Saturday, 16 August 2014

Foul Play, Also Fowl Issues

It's been one of those days again. There has been a profusion of spiders, mansplaining, and general fuck-ups, tripping us up and cramping our (normally pretty damn edgy) style. The level of fucked-up-ness demonstrated by the world at large lately is excessive to the point of actual obscenity, and shows no sign of lessening no matter how much whisky we chuck at it. We are steeped to the gills in Weltschmerz and, as if all the other stuff wasn't enough, suffer from very painful and annoying blisters on our feet.

We had intended to delight and amuse you with some surprisingly clever pictures from Quasi-Intellectual Friend, who has briefly come out of the woodwork (or was it the asylum he came out of?) and sent us a batch of toilet photos, but can we find the damn things? Can we bollocks. We can't even get the massive, angry rant we had planned as back-up off our chest, due to a tiring technical cock-up.

In an effort to calm down and prevent ourselves from having a massive, collective apoplexy, we braved the onslaught of the enraged pheasant living in our archive (there is no sign of the dwarves - we don't know what happened to them) and dug out some festive pictures. "Well, strike us pink with a sheaf of medium-quality printer paper," we said to ourselves, while trying to shield our eyes from the pheasant's really rather sharp beak, "here are some pictures from that time when we went to Sir Toby's with Obsessive Emmerdale Fan Friend, and some other nice friends, to watch the rugby, and Wales won, or lost, or disappeared in an earthquake, or similar."

(Due to - you guessed it - yet another technical fuck-up, these pictures are arranged sideways. If you find this perspective invigorating, there are plenty more here, here, and here.)

We believe we intended this picture of toilet-door graffiti to illustrate a point,
possibly one to do with the fragile nature of human existence, or similar.
Possibly we had just drunk too much Guinness and lost our judgement.

As a friend of ours once said, on a memorable occasion,
"Rock'n'roll ain't dead, it's just been getting fucked in a ten-dollar bed".
No, we don't know what that means, either.

An unintentionally artistic picture.
The message here is a prosaic "this looks like a hygienic tile-and-toilet-roll-holder combo".

This picture illustrates our current, rather cornered, situation.

Do we remember seeing a yellow sink at another festive location?
We do indeed! Oh no, hang on, that was a yellow toilet.

We have said everything there is to say about air-dryers in a previous post called AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! AIR-DRYERS!

Here, enjoy this view of a reasonably charming window. Here's another one, at the Red Lion in York.

Semi-Intellectual Friend has been singularly alert recently, and sent us an interesting word. The word is anatidaephobia.

Anatidaephobia. Look it up.
Image from
Semi-Intellectual Friend has also been making some rather feeble jokes about our supposedly fragile mental state. Semi-Intellectual Friend can, as he is well aware, shove said feeble jokes where the sun don't shine. However, Semi-Intellectual Friend also said, in a brief moment of lucidity - and we're going to make a bit of a thing about this quote here, because we thought it was rather profound - the following words:
Irony exists for a reason and that reason is to be slathered over everything spoken or written like grease on a fat man's belly when he's being thrown down a hill.
On that note, we ought really to have a festive video, oughtn't we?

Festive video - Ashton Shepherd, Look It Up

Related Reading

Other pubs we have been to through the years:

A pub we unwisely entered in the company of Quasi-Intellectual Friend: The Rook and Gaskill - Well, the Beer Is Good
A pub that saddened us: The Royal Oak - We Revisit A Dear Old Pub with New Toilets
A nice Danish pub we sweated profusely in last summer: Det Lille Apotek - Big Beers and Small Toilets in Everyone's Favourite Toilet Country
Oh, you know. Some stuff happened: An Annoyingly Long, But Brilliantly Clever, Post, Including Shewees, Beer, and Some Other Stuff
Reminiscing about happier times: De Consolatio Philosophiae

Sir Toby's Pub & Restaurang
Davidshallsgatan 21
211 45 Malmö

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