Viking Poo

Do you like Viking poo? We love Viking poo!

If you live in York, you can count yourself very, very lucky: during the upcoming York Viking Festival, there will be two, yes TWO, separate Viking poo events!
The first is a Poo Day at Barley Hall. According to our information, you get to "Join Dr Andrew Jones of the York Archaeological Trust for this fun family lecture, giving an insight into the messier side of archaeology. Learn how the contents of Viking rubbish pits and toilets have helped today’s archaeologists to reconstruct the muckiest details of life in Viking York". If that sounds unbearably thrilling, be at Barley Hall between 10:30 and 16:00 on Wednesday 15 February. Admission £1.
  The second event is on the same day and is called Viking Poo. The eminent Andrew Jones will once again be giving informative, and no doubt entertaining, talks about Viking poo. Suitable for all the family. Pre-booking essential: 01904 615505, or book online at www.jorvikbookings.com. 11.00 and 14.00 at Barley Hall. £6 for adults, £4.50 for concessions (includes admission to Barley Hall).

The York coprolite: read all about it here

If this sounds like an excellent day out and you would love some more information on Viking toilets, despair not: it is available here.

Natural Born Bather

Here at the Privy Counsel, we're in favour of all things bath-related and ecological. Modern bathrooms, though usually comfortable (unless the plumbing and the taps are all messed up) and hygienic (unless they're crappily built and mouldy), place high demands on Mother Nature in terms of energy and chemicals.
Fictional Friend sent us a picture of this lovely bath, from Natural Homes. It was apparently built by a handy chap called Dan Phillips.

Soaking up good vibes - a lovely bath!

We think it looks extremely comfortable and conducive to good posture!

How a Green Fairy Soap May Alleviate the Pain Caused by a Black-and-Blue Knee

A sports-related accident which has put one or possibly two (or perhaps more - nobody seems sure!) ligaments in one of our knees out of action has regrettably prevented us from blogging for a little while. (Actually, the injury has no impact on our ability to edify and amuse our loyal readers at all, but we're sure you agree that blaming a dramatic and crippling fall sounds ever so much more glamorous than "We've been busy at work".)
However, a very dear friend sent us this fantastic absinthe soap! How can one fail to recover with the Green Fairy hovering over one's bath?!

We can't wait to get a good scrub from the Green Fairy!

"Absinthe-scented" - oooh, heady, heady scent!

Related Reading
All posts about soap
More absinthe action: An Ideal Standard Husband

Toilet-Related Celebrities

We've been rather wholesome lately, and now have an itch for some celebrity toilet images. Our recent forays into Google hyperspace have luckily given us a fine harvest of weird and disturbing pictures and facts, for your edification and delight.

The night before her wedding, Kate Middleton stayed in a disturbingly vulgar and tasteless suite in some hotel or other. Poor Kate didn't even get mixer taps in the bathroom! However, she at least had the comfort of being able to do her business in a genuine Crapper toilet, the Venerable! Lucky, lucky girl! The Sun did a revolting, sycophantic reportage on the suite and its toilet which you can, if you wish, read here. The pictures are copyrighted to the fifth dimension, but luckily we are rather resourceful and found you a picture of an identical toilet here!

The Venerable - fit for a princess

In other, related, news, Tori Spelling has been promoting Thomas Crapper Day, nobody seems entirely sure why. But here she is, posing with her husband and some puppies. Read all about this exciting event here.

Squeezing out some enthusiasm

We found this picture funny.

Well, that scratched our celebrity itch nicely!

The Inn at Hawnby

 And it came to pass that on Boxing Day, we went for a walk in the Yorkshire countryside with some friends in the vain hope of resetting the calorie/exercise balance. A pint in a charming Inn afterwards balanced us nicely.

The standard cautionary sign. Sigh. When will they learn?

Soap and lotion!

Carpet - how plush! And unsanitary!

Charmingly, a towel was provided as well as an air-dryer.

The scenery around Hawnby

Enjoying a pint at the Inn. (If you meet these people, run for your life.)

 How many points did the bog in this charming country inn get, then? Five, but unfortunately we had to deduct one for the carpet - too unsanitary for words! Hygeia is in a rest-home receiving intravenous drugs until her nerves recover!

The Inn at Hawnby
Hawnby, Nr. Helmsley,
North Yorkshire, YO62 5QS
Telephone 01439 798202   

Lady Chatterley's Lover - A Draining Romance

 A very dear friend of ours has been gagging for a Toilet Tales version of Lady Chatterley's Lover for some time now. Voilà!

The young Constance Reid marries Clifford, Lord Chatterley, in a lavish ceremony, and goes to live with him at Wragby Hall. Unfortunately Lord Chatterley is packed off to the war shortly thereafter, and returns crippled and impotent.

Lord Chatterley is, no doubt for good reason, obsessed with miners.

After becoming a writer, Lord Chatterley surrounds himself with intellectuals.
His wife finds them boring and pretentious. Her existence becomes ever more draining.

Luckily, she soon finds recreation and amusement in the arms of Mellors, the gamekeeper.

Lady Chatterley goes on holiday.
During her absence, Mellors' wife returns, causing a scandal with her ill-natured remarks.
The gossip-mongers have a field day.

Lady Chatterley comes back, announcing that she is pregnant with Mellors' child. Her husband, being a morally rigid Edwardian, refuses to give her a divorce. The gossip-mongers have a giant tea-party,
with cucumber sandwiches, scones, and sponge-cake.

Mellors is fired and goes to live on a farm. Lady Chatterley moves in with her sister to await her confinement.
We assume that they meet again, and live happily ever after.

Not Nearly Enough Monkey Business

Monkey has long been annoyed with his local supermarket for not supplying soaps made with monkey-friendly sustainable palm oil. However, he happened perchance to go to Sainsbury's one day, and was flabbergasted with joy over finding that all Sainsbury's own-brand soaps appear to be made with Monkey-approved palm oil!

Monkey posing happily with his monkey-friendly soap. Also visible are two of his favourite soaps,
the eco-friendly rose-scented Bliw and the Bubble and Balm lavender soap

No bunnies or orangutans were killed during the making of this soap.

Smells nice, too.

Casino Royale - Feeling Flush

Bond was hard at work as usual. He'd worked his way through all the different kinds of gin and vermouth, in every possible kind of combination, with and without lemon zest (it was always better to leave it in), and was now feeling restless. The bartender had started to get really quite short with him. Bloody pleb.
Bond really, really, really fancied a game of poker.

Luckily Bond's arch-enemy, Le Chiffre, was likewise hard at work in the casino, plotting evil plans.

Bond challenged Le Chiffre to a game of poker, at enormous stakes. His girl of the moment stood by, flashing her cleavage from behind a plunging neckline and swallowing expensive champagne.
I'd better win, thought Bond grimly to himself, or I'll be here all night doing the washing up.
Those bloody girls always have to go for the expensive champagne!
They probably don't even have mixer taps in this bloody place, and I'll scald my hands again.
Le Chiffre smirked evilly, as was his habit.

It was a sweaty game. Bond suffered a heart attack, but miraculously survived. Le Chiffre was yanking his chain,
but at the last moment Bond pulled a straight flush and won the game. The girl pouted victoriously, adjusted her cleavage and requested another glass of champagne, only to rush to the ladies' moments later,
clutching the toilet bowl and cursing that sweet, sweet champagne.

For unexplained reasons a wild chase ensued, across some conveniently placed building cranes.
The action was tense, and Bond found himself perspiring again.

Finally, after a hard day's graft, Bond could get back on the commuter train with his girl and go home.
The toilets on the train were out of action as usual. Bond sighed. "Give us a hand, love."