Thanks girlfriend.

Like any show or film I go to watch, I need to empty my bladder (even if I’ve just been) just before it starts.  Not sure why, just something I’ve picked up through childhood.

The door opened with a delicate, almost camp push to reveal a slightly messy but clean toilet.  The top lid and bottom lip were left up, thus further more cementing the status ‘male’.

Between the toilet roll holder and the flush handle, there must have been interesting characters that vacated their arses and did ‘whatever’ they came to do. Sex, drugs and general dumping – solids and liquids.  From 1900 when it first opened, past the Peter Stringfellow era. It would have been amazing to film all the shenanigans that go on behind close doors.  Intriguing. Certainly a no go these days.

Best flush (stiff, creaking lever) and go.

One last obstacle stood in my way – the ‘token’ cleaner.

I don’t mind them, even though they squirt unnecessary amounts of soap at you.  Then spray you with ‘Joop’ or ‘old spice’, like those pesky Selfridges’ robots they call sales people.

I finally got back to my seat, with a curious girlfriend wondering, where the hell had I been.