A Message of, Perhaps, Hope

We came to the conclusion recently that when you find yourself at work clutching your head and feeling woozy and hungover despite not having been drinking, it's time to take a sick day.

You'd think this would be a fairly straightforward decision, but there are many variables to take into consideration. For instance, will work be able to continue without you in the building, or will the whole place spontaneously implode - even combust? (We like to think of ourselves as modest, hard-working people at the Privy Counsel, but there are barely concealed delusions of grandeur lurking under the surface, and the concept of anything ever getting properly done without us makes little, if any, sense.)

Even if your place of work does not burst into flames in your absence, is it reasonable to stay at home, you may ask yourself, when a dose of harden the fuck up and another dose or two of diclofenac would probably get you through the day, even if the bags under your eyes got so heavy you were tripping over them and you started having real concerns about liver damage?

This is one of the many situations where having good friends will literally save your life. Sure, you can take more painkillers, keep your lip stiff and upper and soldier on. But what good will it be? Who will benefit from your burnout? Fucking nobody, that's who.

We've been reflecting, over the last few days, on the good fortune of having friends with the grace and wisdom of knowing when to tell you what you want to hear, and when to tell you what you need to hear. For instance, what you want to hear may very probably be "You're so clever and amazing", but what you need to hear may well be something much more along the lines of, "Your arguments are weak and the structure of your text sucks. Now pour yourself a whisky and don't get back to me until you have produced work to the high standard of which I know you are capable if you put your mind to it". Harsh, but so much better for you in the long run.

Having friends, in short, who will tell you to rewrite your painstakingly crafted text when that is needed, or to stay in bed a whole day watching Peaky Blinders and quietly swearing to yourself in a Brummy accent when that is required for your health and sanity, is a blessing.

We've been reflecting also on the fact that we have friends who send messages like this:

I have 2 toilet reviews for you
Both with mirror selfies of course
Let me know next time Trump’s regime is getting you down and I’ll send across.

As you can naturally tell from the robust, masculine style of writing, that message was from Jonny, and a heartening message it was too. As we lost no time in telling that jovial young chap, the patriarchy gets us down all the time, non-stop, continually, perpetually, so fucking well send those toilet selfies fucking ASAP, before we really lose it. Jonny obliged. (Remember when we wrote a lonely hearts ad for Jonny? We stand by every word, including the words "a spanking good catch".)

Here you go:

There is only one word that is appropriate here, and that word is Woof!

These are The Graduate in York

I think I did a mini-review before but I nailed this selfie and I like the mirror so I did a follow-up review

[Editor's note: We have a horrible feeling that the mini-review mentioned above has not been published yet but is bobbing around somewhere in our archive, and that we have consequently made ourselves guilty of discontinuance and a lack of chronological order, for which we would apologise profusely if we thought that anyone actually cared.]

It goes downhill from here.

The soul does not soar at this sorry sight.
Incidentally, Tudor Friend once reviewed a toilet whose bog roll holder likewise required active gymnastics.

 No toilet seat. Was cold. On a positive note you get a great abs workout reaching behind your head for toilet paper.

Modern-day Romeo and Juliet-style literature adorns the walls to keep you occupied

At this point we're reasonably confident
that you've reached the same conclusion we have: There ain't no sugar-coating this toilet.

 Who even needs a coat hook..?

There is only one appropriate word here, too, and that word is UGH.
And also WHAT THE YELLOW RUBBERY FUCK?

Finally the pièce de résistance... a handy peep-hole in case you are wondering what people are up to in the neighbouring stall.

Overall 2/10

Only Jonny's generous nature would give this toilet even a single point. Readers, we will have to trust his judgement on this one. That winsome young whippersnapper continues with another review:

Toilets 2: Event City Manchester

When will designers of coat-hooks understand that no hook
will ever be truly satisfactory without an upwards curve, however slight?
Contemplating aberrations like this is one of the few moments of modern life
where one wishes there were more Freudianism around, not less.

Hercule Poirot would undoubtedly be pleased with this squareness,
perhaps even going so far as to chortle approvingly.

 Nice deep urinals

Had a long coat hook

Mixer taps

Hand driers

Oh.. and for some reason had wacky carnival mirrors:

Does anyone have any energy left with which to chuckle delightedly?

Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you feel fortified and ready to tackle the week ahead, whether it includes fighting the patriarchy or merely keeping body and soul and perhaps the odd shred of sanity together. We thank Jonny profusely for his kind contribution to this intellectual toilet blog, and hasten along to today's festive video. This one features one of our favourite girl country singers, Brandy Clark, who has a surprisingly large repertoire of songs about hangovers.



Festive Video: Brandy Clark, Hungover


Related Reading

Our lonely hearts ad featuring Jonny in his natural environment (easy now, ladies; please form an orderly queue):
Jonny and a Public Toilet - a Treat for Single Ladies

Another rampantly festive blog post: Educational Cake

All posts featuring Jonny

As the nights draw in, the  discerning reader craves a good murder mystery. Voilà: The Body in the Bathtub: A Poirot Mystery

Less Intellectualism, More Prurient Pictures!

People have been doing it again. Sending us pictures, that is! (What did you think?) We keep meaning to do a proper review (considering that we still insist that reviews are our raison d'être, we do woefully few of them these days), using the first-class toilet material lurking in our archives. However, with fabulous stuff like this, who CARES about reviews? Also, we've been working very hard recently, and this, in combination with the weekend's sleeplessness and Danish-  Intellectual- and Obsessive Emmerdale Fan Friend-related alcohol consumption, renders us momentarily rather sluggish of intellect. So let us drop all pretence at intellectualism and indulge, shamelessly, in amusing pictures!

First out are our Very Brave Friend's photos from Manchester, a city which seems full to the brim of fabulous toilets.

These ladies adorn the wall of a toilet in Manchester!

We think this particular lady is extra fabulous.

As ever, we are all in favour of clear signage!
Does this, however, remind one rather distressingly
of the dangerous taps which plague Britain? It does.

Very Brave Friend says: "It was a bit stingy
with the amount of soap that came out, and it was foam-based."

Apparently this jar is for emergencies of the sanitary kind.

Wasn't that refreshing!

Next up is a festive picture from Jonny, who says: "Only students would need this warning. Toilet spot at York St John."

York St John toilet. Note says, "Please don't put anything down the urinals."

Mr Smith delighted us with this beautiful picture from the Rockaway Bar in Shoreditch. This gladdens us because we might be spending some time there in the near future! Not to give too much away, but you know how Shewee generously sent us a barrage of shewees to rock the night away with? Well, the rocking the night away-ing might be happening in the very near vicinity of this place!

Finally, we have a quote from Tudor Friend, who amusingly says,

Anyway, musician humour from my mum's friends, discussing which historic musical figure they'd leave their husbands for: "Give Schubert a shot of penicillin and I'd run away with him. There has to be a reason he caught the syph."

Are you holding on to your nacho hats? There is more stuff like this coming! We have a rich supply of whimsical toilet photography from German Friend, which we hope to showcase very soon, and Intellectual Friend has rather incautiously promised to send us the promised photos from Norway - perhaps even before the year is over!  There is just NO END TO THE FABULOUSNESS!

Related Reading:
A Note on Desperate Measures
The Mysterious Forbidden Lavatories of Manchester
Dirty Toilets and Dirtier Minds - A Nautical Theme
Dread, Rage, and Out-of-Order Urinals

The Mysterious Forbidden Lavatories of Manchester

Normally we at the Privy Counsel are extremely law-abiding, and would never encourage crime of any kind. However, a friend took an illegal (well, perhaps not strictly illegal. "Forbidden" might be a better, and indeed more exciting, word) picture of the toilets at the John Rylands Library in Manchester. Apparently, for whatever reason, one is not allowed to photograph these bogs. Which is crazy, because they're genuine Victorian toilets! Full of craziness! Our friend (who shall remain anonymous for security reasons) said:

"I also sat on a truly Victorian toilet in the John Rylands Library; OMG, not much has changed in the World of British Lavatories since then. Picture taking was forbidden (as these were WORKING toilets) but I managed a sneaky one."
Anonymous friend also hints that, "YOU KNOW WHAT?! They have a massive display on toilets, taps, and sewers in the Museum of Science and Industry in Manchester. I wanted to get you a postcard, but we almost got locked into this part of the museum as they were closing and kind of forgot about us. But it was all very interesting."

Ta-daa: An exclusive peek at the Forbidden Lavatories at the John Rylands library!
They look well equipped when it comes to coat-hooks, anyway...

Dear readers, go forth into Manchester, with our blessing, and explore the toilets!