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Hoses of the Holy in the Parallel Universe

May 17, 2005

Full of crap

Men can be divided into two types. Those who have no shame and those who feel that certain sights, sounds and smells are best kept behind a locked door and stud partition.

Yes, we're talking about shared toilets.

Here at work we used to have several cubicles, each with its own self-contained micro-environment. Sometimes you had to suffer the agony of breathing in the aroma of the Anonymous Maggotty Arsed One. But at least some semblance of dignity and privacy was upheld.

However, in a sweeping bout of improvements the toilet walls have been replaced with smaller wooden partitions with air above and below them. I suppose that is advantageous if someone tries to commit suicide and you have to knock the wall down quickly to get access to them.

Some people don't mind, like my bro Neil, who I reckon wouldn't mind curling out a smoking chocolate banana in full view of the ladies in Sales. But I don't like it. It triggers the same sort of unease and insecurity that chimps probably get when they are taking a shit close to a pride of lions.

At first I got round this by using the disabled toilet, which is rather palacial, and would probably make a good shelter in the case of a full-on nuclear strike.

However, in a shocking near miss of potential shame I discovered that the lock doesn't work properly on the downstairs disabled bog, and that the door is liable to open out onto Reception's doorway and the main Technical Department corridor without any warning.

I only use toilets at home now. No lions there. Or snakes.

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