Showing posts with label Museum. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Museum. Show all posts

Sunday, 1 November 2020

Ten-Year Jubilee Extravaganza: A Decade of Enlightenment!

 Time, allegedly, flies. We're not personally convinced that this is the correct verb to attach to the fourth dimension of the universe, but we really, really, really don't have the energy to argue with anyone over anything. (It seems, for instance, that we have entered an uneasy peace with Shewee Fiend Friend on the subject of toilet roll orientation.) Whatever means of transport you choose to ascribe to time, however, it is an inescapable fact that this bog blog has been a vehicle for ranting on the internet for ten years. Readers who are perhaps not as regular as they would like might appreciate an explanation of how this came about.

Once upon a time, in a pub far, far away (Micklegate, in York, arguably counts as pretty far away for most people), we were ranting. Memory is a fickle mistress and Yorkshire ale is a potent brew, and thus details are hazy, but we’re reasonably certain that we were gesticulating, possibly even raising our voice to a far from genteel pitch. What were we ranting about? you wonder. World poverty? Slave labour in sweatshops? The utter, unforgivable shitness of the Eurovision Song Contest? No. We were ranting about British plumbing.

 

Scandinavia has many advantages. The twentieth century played the part of fairy godmother to this portion of the world, blessing it with democracy, universal healthcare, and excellent sanitation. As a result, its inhabitants are prone to exhibiting exorbitant, overwhelming smugness. Send an unsuspecting Scandi out in the world and they are susceptible to criticise other nations’ sanitary arrangements in an insufferably rude manner. Not because they wish to insult, you understand, but because they are flabbergasted. When it is demonstrably possible to construct toilets and pipes that work well, a Dane, Norwegian or Swede might reason, why on earth would you deliberately choose to make a cackhanded job of your bogs? Said Scandiwegians are perhaps particularly prone to ask this far-from-rhetorical question when in the British Isles, which, though rich in culture and steeped in history of the most exciting kind, are deplorably lacking in logical plumbing. Friendship with such a Dane, Norwegian, or Swede can often be challenging to a native of the misty isles in the West. Whatever laudable qualities such persons may possess, they are prone to being overshadowed by the Scandiwegian propensity to rant about mixer-taps. It is not what your average Brit appreciates, when in the pub, trying to maintain an enjoyable conversation. Such a Brit, who is likely to be a cultured, refined and well-travelled person, is not to be blamed for exclaiming, in an exasperated manner, for the love of God, why don’t you start a blog? (For this was the year of our Lord 2010, and blogs were still a thing.)

 

Our exasperated friend, whom we have referred to ever since as Enlightened Friend, uttered this impassioned plea not due to his belief in our writing skills or ability to turn an interesting tale, but due to his intense irritation with our constant complaints about British plumbing. Enlightened Friend’s hope was that, in writing down our criticisms of British taps on the internet and perhaps striking up friendships with other weirdoes there, we would cease to complain about them to him, and he would in future be able to drink his pint in peace. Being easily influenced, we happily took Enlightened Friend at his word, and started a toilet blog (or, as it soon became known, the intellectual bog blog). Indeed, so excited were we by the prospect of pontificating to, if not the world at large, then at least a certain small portion of our acquaintance, that we wrote three posts on the same day. The very first one, published on 18 October 2010, said, simply and perhaps ominously,

 

Most British people see no need for mixer taps, as when they do exist, they don't work anyway.  The rest of the world disagrees.  The controversy continues.

 

This was followed by some reflections on toilet paper, and our first review – of the toilets in the Yorkshire Museum. There was also the legendary review of the disabled toilet at the Centre for Medieval Studies in York, which gave us much solace during the year we spent drinking with weird medievalists and perhaps doing the odd stint of studying. For a long time we stuck to a bewildering and illogical points system for reviews, which was satirized to great effect by Semi-Intellectual Friend when he devised a toilet duck-based scoring system.

 As we have often had occasion to mention, we are grateful for all the friends (including Jonny, who counts as a friend for administrative reasons) and family who send us interesting toilet pictures from around the world. Due to our hectic lifestyle, commitment to watching Toby Stephens wearing pirate trousers, and unreasonably lengthy hangovers, these pictures tend to not be put to profitable use by means of toilet blogging, but congregate in weird corners of the internet, tucked away in a multitude of apps and accounts, where they languish due to lack of light. (We have, for years, envisaged our archive as a dark crypt peopled by ghosts, dead nuns, and pheasants, such as described in the 1796 horror classic The Monk. You may read increasingly incoherent references to said archive here, here, here, here, and here.) Our Mum reminded us recently of some photos she sent us two years ago, which we thought we'd publish in this, our ten-year-anniversay bog blog post. We've also got pictures from other favourite contributors, such as Our Favourite Aunt, Intellectual Friend, and, last but definitely not least, Jonny. The fact that we thusly have pictures from Sweden, Denmark, Norway and the UK is no doubt a coincidence.

We decided, in a moment of unrestrained nostalgia, to return to the points system. It took a while before we could even find it, but it turns out we'd preserved it and we have inserted it at the bottom of this post for the benefit of scientifically-minded readers. Below is a picture sent to us by Our Mum from the Martini restaurant in Kristianstad, Sweden. According to what you might call, for convenience, the logic of our points system, these facilities get 9 points. We couldn't tell from the photo whether the soap was pleasantly scented or whether there was a coat-hook sturdy enough for  a rucksack, so we had to restrain ourselves somewhat in our scoring. Nonetheless, it looks like an excellent, comfortable and laudably hygienic toilet.

Martini, in Kristianstad: 9 points

Next up is an amusing photo, also from Our Mum, of a helpful sign at the airport in Bergen, Norway.

We hope, for the sake of humanity, that these are not unisex toilets. We have mentioned, on occasion, how much we loathe unisex toilets.

 

Our Favourite Aunt is a faithful correspondent and sent us, in 2016, the following photos from the porcelain museum in Gustavsberg, Sweden.

An exciting glimpse of hygienic porcelain from times past

We are nearly always reminded of something, and this obviously reminds us of the historical toilets exhibition at the Castle Museum, in York!

This is a toilet quote by August Strindberg. Not being fans of Strindberg, we're not going to bother translating it. Nonetheless, we appreciate Our Favourite Aunt's contribution.

We mentioned earlier our conception of our toilet photo archive as a dark, dripping crypt. Perhaps in the light of that metaphor, these pictures, from Intellectual Friend, are rather apt. They depict the gents' toilets at the Peder Oxe tavern in Copenhagen, where we seem to remember brandishing a flagon of ale with Intellectual Friend in 2017. Are the toilets in the cellar? We can't remember, but it looks as though they are rich in old stone and some eccentricity - both things that we love.

Danes are depressingly apt to install what we call the subjunctive mixer tap, but here it seems they have actually hardened the fuck up and got it right.

We're fairly sure that we have, at one or more points during the past ten years, expressed an opinion about urinals. Potentially we approve.

Intellectual Friend referred to this as a "tapestried toilet pic". It is perhaps fitting in light of our history of drinking in medieval milieus.

Ahh. Nothing warms the cockles like correctly hung toilet paper!

We're reaching the end of this blast from the past. How about some hyper-modernity, for the sake of contrast? Here's a photo of Jonny, in 2020, adhering to corona regulations.


Our spontaneous reaction to this photo was:

Plus points for the clear, helpful and polite signage, not sure about the mask. On the one hand the Counsel is all in favour of hygiene and adequate protection, on the other hand it doesn't like restrictions on perving. We shall leave it to the fans to decide!

Jonny argued that the mask is in contrast to his top, calling the look "street thug's soft side". Ever striving for fairness, we promised to take his argument under consideration.

Reader, it is time for a Festive Video. What's more suitable than this favourite, which has given us intellectual solace on many an occasion! (Blogger have changed their layout and we have no idea how to intelligently insert videos any more, so to be on the safe side here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lv-Pi3RKY68)



 Festive Video: Public Information Film - UK Separate Taps


Related Reading

All posts featuring Sheewee Fiend Friend

All posts featuring Enlightened Friend

Our very first blog post: Mixer Taps - the Controversy

Our first review, of the toilets in the Yorkshire Museum: The Yorkshire Museum

The legendary post in which Semi-Intellectual Friend launched his alternative scoring system: Rampant Titillation - Basically, a Real-Life Epistolary Novel!

A reminiscent blog post, from a time when we still had hangovers that ended: In Which the Privy Counsel Goes Ballistic

The commemorative post we wrote after five years of toilet-blogging, which seemed coherent and reasonable at the time: Five Fabulous (and Frightening) Years: The Story of the Privy Counsel

We're far from lacking in horrors at the moment, but somehow we never got around to writing a Halloween blog post this year. However, here is our very first Halloween post: Oh! the horror! SCREAMING BLOODY HORROR HALLOWEEN SPECIAL: The British Workplace

All posts featuring Halloween 

THE POINTS SYSTEM

We gave up all belief in the logic of our points system long ago. But sometimes we use it just for kicks, and when we do, the points awarded are as follows:

* Covered loo roll holder: +1
* Loo roll lying loose: -1
* Normal white loo roll: +1
* Unbleached: +2
* Quilted or coloured: -1

* Bin in stall covered: +1
*Bin not pushing unpleasantly against user: +2

* Easy-to-use flush, not requiring great mechanical strength: +1
* Water-saving: +2
* Hard to use: -1

* Toilets clean: +1
* Toilets dirty: -1

* Revolving towel: +1
* Air dryer: -1
* Hygienic air dryer: +1
* Normal towel (unless clean and displaying evidence of being frequently changed): -1

* Push lever or other easy-to-use tap: +1
* Photo-cell tap: +2
* Lack of hot water: -1
* Unpleasant, separated taps: -1

*Pleasant soap: +1
* Also handlotion: +2
* No soap: -1

*Coat hook: +1
* Coat hook sturdy enough for rucksack or other large bag: +2
* No coat hook: -1

* Possibility of opening door without touching handle on exit: +1 bonus point.

* Toilets with noise-insulating cubicles (or no cubicle): +1 bonus point. 

Sunday, 26 November 2017

What a Thing Is and What It Is Not Are Identical In Form. Or So We've Been Told.

Every now and then, one finds oneself waxing philosophical, whether one wants to or not. We are not overly prone to philosophy at the Privy Counsel, veering more in the direction of getting blind drunk and ranting about the shittiness of everything. However, there have been occasions when we have surprised ourselves. For instance, there was the time, quite recently, when we pondered whether a North American airport toilet could be considered the Platonic ideal of a really great bog, but then came to the conclusion that it couldn't, being heinously lacking in coat hooks. There was the time when we had a hangover so bad it qualified as a near-death experience (it was the heat), and consequently grew reflective. There was also, once upon a time, the existential toilet.

Forcing us to ponder the nature of things, Shewee Fiend Friend sent us these images, from the Remai Museum in Saskatoon:

Flip-flops! Remember when Monkey hoisted a pair of flip-flops to show his support for Australian inventions?

A leg in a very fetching display cabinet. Also flip-flop.
(No, we don't know what's going on, either.)

This is where it gets exciting! A urinal!
This we can relate to, and understand! (You wee into it.)

Was en Ding ist, und was es nicht ist, sind, in der Form, identisch gleich.
It is at this point that we at the Privy Counsel get confused and angry,
and storm off in search of an alcoholic beverage.


We exhort our readers to remember that, if they are considering visiting a museum this year, the Tyrrell Museum in Alberta is - and we have this on good authority - the best part of Canada! Apparently, the dinosaurs are to die for, and you can confidently skip the rest of the country.

We have received indications that our readership is getting restless, having noticed that there haven't been any pictures of Jonny in quite a while. Bravely venturing into the scary place we call our archive, we found the following pictures, sent to us in July. On the French independence day, no less! Liberté, égalité, sororité! Hurrah!

Unfortunately, we were drunk at the time of receiving the images, and didn't have the wits to ask where they were from. Perhaps that's all for the best?

Something is happening with the décor, but we're not sure what.

We know exactly what's happening here, and we approve.

HUNKA!

HUNKA! AGAIN!

These stalls don't pass muster, having flimsy doors that don't go all the way down to the floor or all the way up to the ceiling, thus failing in their primary object: TO FUCKING WELL SHIELD THE TOILET-GOER'S PRIVACY. #YouHadOneJob

This is magic. Now there's white wine...

...now there's red wine. Anyway, if what a thing is and what a thing is not are identical in form, then it doesn't matter whether the bottle contains red or white wine, right? As, indeed, anyone who has ever been this pissed knows instinctively. Is philosophy, in fact, exactly like drunkenness, except without any of the fun?

Our communication at the time was limited to this business-like exchange:


Privy Counsellor:
Wow
Did you carry that bottle of wine with you?

Yes
Privy Counsellor:
Respect

We should probably finish here. However, let us first remind you that IF YOU WANT THE CHANCE TO WIN A SIGNED PHOTOGRAPH OF JONNY, ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS SEND US A PICTURE OF YOUR BEST TOILET GRAFFITI BEFORE NEW YEAR'S. THIS IS NOT A JOKE, FOLKS. IT IS 100 PER CENT REAL.

Also, let's have a Festive Video. Here's one that we just know will cause both Shewee Fiend Friend and Jonny to scream very loudly and jump up and down - in sheer delight, of course. Also, considering that yesterday was the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, we find it suitable.



Festive Video: Pistol Annies, Don't Talk About Him, Tina

Related Reading

In which we ponder whether a North American airport toilet could be considered the Platonic ideal of a really great bog

All posts featuring Shewee Fiend Friend

All posts featuring Jonny

Actually, grasping our candelabra with a somewhat shaky grip and venturing down the ancient granite stairs, past the oaken door with the rusty lock, into our archive, we found a shitload of posts arranged under the label Philosophy. Perhaps we philosophise more than we are aware of.  Be that as it may, here are the highlights:

The German Existential Toilet Is, Perhaps, Here

To Be or Not to Be - A Loo So Existential It Doesn't Even Exist

In Which We Introduce the Concept of the Vulture of Doom 

Some Thoughts on Internet Vitriol. And a Gorgeous, Rose-Scented Toilet

A Blog Post of Astonishing Clarity

A Life-Affirming Experience

The Royal Toilet at Kronborg: "A Foul and Pestilent Congregation of Vapours"

Cuteness, Intellectual Solace, and a Correction

What Goes Around, Comes Around (trigger warning: Jonny's knees) 

De Consolatio Philosophiae

Saturday, 4 March 2017

No Man (Or Woman) Is an Island

So, what's new? At our end, nothing much. The weather's still terrible. The UK still largely lacks functioning plumbing. Rampant murderous Nazis are still in charge of the White House.

Shit weather and crap British plumbing are normal phenomena. Rampant murderous Nazis lording it over Capitol Hill, however, is not normal. The journalist Sarah Kendzior exhorts us, in an article in The Correspondent, to keep a record of what things were like before the regime, to help us remember what normality is like. Kendzior says:
Write down what you value; what standards you hold for yourself and for others. Write about your dreams for the future and your hopes for your children. Write about the struggle of your ancestors and how the hardship they overcame shaped the person you are today.

Write your biography, write down your memories. Because if you do not do it now, you may forget.

Write a list of things you would never do. Because it is possible that in the next year, you will do them.

Write a list of things you would never believe. Because it is possible that in the next year, you will either believe them or be forced to say you believe them.

It is increasingly clear, as Donald Trump appoints his cabinet of white supremacists and war-mongers, as hate crimes rise, as the institutions that are supposed to protect us cower, as international norms are shattered, that his ascendency to power is not normal.

Here is our contribution to the record of normality: Jonny contacting us on social media to express his frustration with British plumbing.


Normality: Friends ranting about things that upset them in a semi-respectful manner.
Let us also write about the struggle of our ancestors, and how the hardship they overcame shaped the people we are today. The words "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free" have been quoted a lot in recent times. We absolutely appreciate these words, as representing the principle of offering asylum to refugees. We are all either refugees or the descendants of refugees, and we need to remember that it is not that long ago since Europeans emigrated en masse to the United States, seeking security, religious freedom, employment, and the ability to walk down the street without being shot in the head or tortured. The immigrants and refugees arriving in Europe and North America today are emigrating for the same reasons, and there is frankly no excuse not to treat them humanely.

We also need to remember, however, that the reason so many people were able to settle in the United States a hundred years ago was that Native Americans were driven away from their lands. Native Americans' struggle for survival is still going on; The Standing Rock camp was razed just the other week, apparently clearing the way for the Dakota Access Pipeline. It behoves us to remember that the reason some people are able to live a life of liberty and in pursuit of happiness is that other people were stripped of their human rights.

Frankly, being a decent human being can be a difficult task, and require some pretty rampant multitasking. A good starting point, however, that makes everything relatively simple, is Caitlin Moran's definition of feminism: 
The five rules of feminism: 1) Women are equal to men. 2) Don't be a dick. 3) That's it.

Let's try not to be dicks, everyone! Can we do that?

We actually received a message, semi-recently, from Ellis Island, the starting point of many an American dream, nightmare, and feverish fantasy. Shewee Fiend Friend went there to visit. She writes:

Today we went to see the statue of liberty and Ellis Island
Here you enter the migration processing


Here a brave migrant approaches the loos
Pictures of successful loo operators line the walls
(I don't know who that dude is, btw)
(it wasn't even that busy, I just couldn't be bothered to wait)


Imagine this is your first pee in America
You'd think you'd be careful to leave it clean behind you, look after your new home
Unwashed Europeans ruin everything


This was the cleanest one
The hook is uselessly placed right in the corner


As you can see, these same sinks have been in use since the centre opened in 1890


It was not the worst experience of my life
For a New York loo it was above average even 
 The German journalist Günter Wallraff has the honour of giving name to investigative journalism in the Swedish language; wallraffande. However, a woman pioneered investigative journalism in Sweden half a century before Wallraff. Her name was Ester Blenda Nordström, and she kicked arse in no uncertain manner! In 1914 she took work as a maid of all work on a farm, and wrote a piercing and humorous piece of social critique. In 1922 she travelled third class to the United States, publishing her sharp, witty observations, which were recently republished as a book called Amerikanskt: Ester Blenda Nordströms resa i USA 1922 (Lund: BakhÃ¥ll förlag, 2015). Ester Blenda Nordström, when she got to New York, was harassed by a mansplaining piece of human garbage disguised as a customs officer, and was refused entry and locked up, until her friends got her out. Here's what she has to say about the detention centre at Ellis Island:


We can't be arsed translating all of this, but basically the customs officer is described as a mansplaining, jumped-up bully with dirty hands.


Let's finish with a Festive Video about everything being just the same as usual.


Festive Video - Reba McEntire, The Day She Got Divorced

Related Reading
Are You British? Does Tap Sanity Elude You? 
A Note on Desperate Measures

Masha Gessen, Autocracy: Rules for Survival 
Alexey Kovalev, A Message to My Doomed Colleagues in the American Media
Sarah Kendzior, We’re heading into dark times. This is how to be your own light in the Age of Trump

Sunday, 13 December 2015

To Boldly Go, etc

Greetings, Earthlings! We've got some exciting space toilets with which to delight and edify you today, and also some festive Japanese toilet controls. Let us warn you, however, that our current hangover renders our usual vim, zest, and brio somewhat weak and enfeebled. We will do our utmost to bewitch and dazzle you with our rumbunctious writing, but be prepared for some lacklustre prose. You have been warned.

Let us without further ado hand over the controls to Shewee Fiend Friend. That superbly intellectual Alfred-fancier and Shewee enthusiast writes:

So my friend just got back from Japan. He took pictures of remote controls of toilets there.
So apparently, there's a bidet for girls and a separate unisex one for #2.
And other features that they couldn't figure out because the pictograms were not always clear or present at all.
This could lead to receiving an unexpected jetspray in a sensitive area, or intending to flush, and instead having water spray out of the toilet up onto your face. 
I also went to the cosmonauts exhibition in the Science Museum yesterday.
As soon as David gets home I'll get you those pics, which I used his phone for because his camera is soooo much better.

(Read more about David, and his views on public urination, here.)

A control panel of some kind

Another type of control panel

Now we move into the murky world of epistolary action. Behold, an email conversation between us and Shewee Fiend Friend about space toilets!

Shewee Fiend Friend: 
Best part of the exhibition. Well. Early spacecraft were cool too. Also here are some informative videos. I love space as much as you love toilets.
https://youtu.be/C-65mBQ7s_Q 
https://youtu.be/ZQ2T9OJY1lg 
Privy Counsellor:
Our internet isn't working very well, but is that the astronaut showing you how to wash your hands, vomit, and go to the toilet in space? Because we've totally been there!
Shewee Fiend Friend:
That's right! He's the coolest. The girl is giving instructions on how to operate the actual toilet. She had pretty good hair. Think how awesome your hair would be in space. I wish I had become an astronaut. My biggest regret in life.

At this point we would like to warn sensitive readers that, due to a technical issue which our IT support staff were unable to solve, THE FOLLOWING PICTURES ARE UPSIDE DOWN. If you are drunk, hungover, or suffer from tertiary syphilis with attendant nerve damage, be very careful. If you feel at all dizzy, drink a glass of whisky IMMEDIATELY. (We have many doctors on the Privy Counsel, and are reasonably sure that this is accurate medical advice.)


SPACE TOILET


MORE SPACE TOILET


STILL MORE SPACE TOILET

Let us for the sake of all that is sane and normal have a festive video. We went to see this band last night, at a place called Rock'n'rollklubben (we also have pictures from this excellent establishment - let us revisit them sometime soon, when we are not hungover!), and had a stonking good time. (The best part was possibly when a dude got up on the stage and accompanied the band with a home-made instrument consisting of a fire extinguisher and a meat cleaver, although the part where the same dude handed out brownies and shots of whisky wasn't bad, either.)

"If you can't be good, be careful" is our favourite piece of advice ever!

(Although apparently you don't actually have to worry that much about herpes, though we still find it an unsettling concept.)


Festive video - The Don Darlings, If You Can't Be Good


Related Reading

Our previous posts on the topic of space toilets:
Space Waste
Space Waste, Part II

All posts featuring Shewee Fiend Friend
All posts featuring sideways, upside-down, or otherwise fucked-up pictures
All posts featuring Japan
All posts featuring our doctors
All posts featuring epistolary action
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