Spanish Missteps, Also Other Missteps

Remember when, two years ago, we ran a toilet paper origami competition, where we encouraged people to send in pictures of folded bog roll? And where the winner was supposed to receive a signed photograph of Jonny wearing a pirate costume? No, we didn't, either. No winner was ever selected, and nobody ever received a photo of Jonny, signed or otherwise. Nostra culpa! We shall do our utmost to rectify this dire mistake.

Speaking of Jonny, we occasionally get asked who Jonny is, and we never know what to answer, although we seem to remember, vaguely, possibly having made an attempt, at some point, to explain the existence of Jonny on this blog, on this blog. Usually, we resort to giving our standard definition, which is that Jonny counts as a friend for administrative reasons. There.

Other friends are neither more easily explained nor have ever featured on the Privy Counsel, which in some cases possibly counts as a loss for humanity. Luckily, in the case of a friend who we have decided to call Rampant Rat-Hunting Friend (we could tell you the story of the rats but you wouldn't want us to - trust us on this), this sad state is about to be remedied! Rampant Rat-Hunting Friend has been to Spain, and has consequently sent us a photo of below toilet, remarking:

Prison toilet. In use until 2017.

We have seen worse toilets, and we have never been to prison.

The delight does not end there. Rampant Rat-Hunting Friend continues her epistolary fireworks with this message:

Is the lid supposed to be up and the seat down when you use the toilet, or all the time?

A question for the ages. (Incidentally, this sign reminds us of German Friend's photo of admirably clear signage in Bologna.)

We ourselves have been out travelling since we last wrote - not as far as Spain, but to the fair city of Malmö, where we encountered this charming toilet, which possessed many delightful traits such as, to name but a few, coat-hooks, fragrant soap, hand sanitiser, and towels which you could fling dramatically into a basket while exclaiming, "Begone, foul fiend! I wash my hands of you!". Or words to that effect.

 

We have expressed our views on wannabe ye olden toilet flush systems before, and haven't changed our mind on this, or any other, point since.

 

Why is it trendy to put the cistern on the wall? And, more to the point, when will it stop being trendy to put the cistern on the wall?

Jonny, meanwhile, has been to Greece, from where he reported that:

There's a phone in my bathroom.

Our response, naturally, was to write back immediately, urging Jonny to pose with the toilet phone in the manner of an eighties movie villain. Reader, Jonny did not disappoint!

"Me calling reception to let them know their grilled cheese is delicious."

Since Rampant Rat-Hunting Friend absolutely will not approve of any music we might choose, ever - being, on this point, as rabid as Shewee Fiend Friend - it is utterly irrelevant which Festive Video we choose for this post.

 

Festive Video - Rocky Burnette, Tired of Toein' the Line

Also, we know for a fact that this blog is read by a total of seven people, one of whom is Our Mum, and none of whom ever watch the Festive Videos. Thus it matters not one jot whether we also link to this version of this Festive Video, and also this fantastic version.

Related Reading

View the photos in the toilet paper origami competition here

That time when Lituanian Friend won a signed photo of Jonny wearing a trench coat, in a gold (well, arguably) frame: Frame of Mind 

All posts featuring German Friend

Admirably clear signage in Bologna: A Bog Post of Astonishing Clarity

Incidentally, remember that time when Australian Friend visited Beechworth Gaol? 

All posts featuring Jonny

A Ray of Light From Spain

Quite possibly nobody noticed - at least we haven't received any emails from desperate, traumatised people* - but actually something weird and ominous happened recently.

We never wrote a Halloween blog post.

Regular readers will be aware that we have written a Halloween post every year since the very beginning of this blog. (If you're not quite as regular as other readers, by the way, you may have missed our recent post on the origins of the Privy Counsel - a tale of passion, violent struggle, and genital herpes!) But this year, there was no screaming bloody horror, no non-mixer taps, no weird fungal infections, no creepy dolls' eyes, no stuffed animals, no scary home-made alcohol, no blood-spattered home decorations, no meat-cleavers, no weird bits of garden hose, no electric water heaters, or any of the other traditional features of our Halloween posts.

We just thought the world was horror-filled enough as it is, and preferred to spend Halloween getting shitfaced and ranting about the patriarchy, rather than focusing on the un-dead, the un-plumbed, and the un-mixed.

To make up for our negligence, we have a special treat for you today - pictures from Audiologist Friend's trip to Spain! (Spain, by the way, as regular readers will also be aware, is on the record as being a SANE AND NORMAL COUNTRY THAT HAS ELECTRIC SOCKETS IN BATHROOMS.)

Audiologist Friend has been on a bit of a roll recently - she strolled into the Privy Counsel HQ kitchen just now looking suspiciously happy. When asked what the hell was wrong with her - sudden bursts of glee being grounds for distrust at the Privy Counsel - Audiologist Friend explained that her supervisor had tried his damnedest to find a weak spot in her work, and failed.

This is what is so great about our friends - their rampant intelligence and arse-kicking make the world a decidedly better place, despite all the horror!

We offer Audiologist Friend our sincerest contrafibularities, and hope that she will radiate smugness in the kitchen on many, many occasions.

Audiologist Friend writes:

Airb'n'b i Toledo, Spanien:
Fantastisk entré, badkar till höger som inte var något speciellt, en liten värmelampa ovanför toalettstolen - mycket uppskattat eftersom golvet var av sten och jättekallt. 

(Airb'n'b in Toledo, Spain:
Fantastic entrance, bath-tub on the right that was nothing special, a small heat lamp above the toilet - very appreciated since the floor was stone and really cold.)

We enjoy this blue shutter and the sunlight streaming in,
choosing to see it as a reminder that there are rays of light in this world.

Our eyes spy a mixer tap! And a rampantly intelligent Audiologist Friend!

We cannot, unfortunately, see the heater, but we feel better knowing that it is there.

*or indeed any emails at all, ever, from anyone. Except, obviously, spam.

After this welcome breeze of sanity from Audiologist Friend, we feel ready for a festive video. What's that? You want a rampant feminist mantra? Let's do it.

Festive video - Queen Latifah, U.N.I.T.Y.


Related Reading

All Halloween posts, ever:
Halloween

Our groundbreaking report on the toilets of the British workplace:
Oh! the horror! SCREAMING BLOODY HORROR HALLOWEEN SPECIAL: The British Workplace

The story of the origins of the Privy Counsel:
Five Fabulous (And Frightening) Years: The Story of the Privy Counsel

Our previous post on Spain, proving it to be  a SANE AND NORMAL COUNTRY THAT HAS ELECTRIC SOCKETS IN BATHROOMS

Common Sense in Spain

At the Privy Counsel we're quite used to being accused of all kinds of unsavoury things. We're regularly charged with indulging in unconstructive bitching and moaning, for instance. This doesn't bother us, since we know, even if some people don't, that there is nothing unconstructive about the Privy Counsel. Another attempted insult levelled at us recently was an inquiry as to whether we had participated in "a reality tv show about people with extreme OCD". All we can say is, "Water off a duck's back, baby"!
Every now and then, we are vindicated. Look at this picture of a Spanish bathroom, for instance, sent to Enlightened Friend by another, mutual, friend, with the comment, "Electrical plugs in the bathroom. You see, SPANISH PEOPLE HAVE COMMON SENSE".

Spanish people have common sense

For those of you living in blissful ignorance of the reason for all these tensions, the fact is that bathrooms in Britain have no electric sockets, the populace not being trusted with the ability to not electrocute itself at the slightest provocation. What Britons don't realise, of course, is that most of the rest of the world manages to quietly get on with having plugs in the bathroom, without accidentally brutally electrocuting itself while drying its hair in a convenient location.
Now if you'll excuse us we're going to find some three-inch nails and attempt to electrocute ourselves - we simply can't resist the temptation!

Related Reading
Mixer Taps - The Great Controversy, or, When Will Britain Enter the 21st Century?, or, You Are Not Alone!
Are you British? Does Tap Sanity Elude You?
OCD Voyeurism