The Filth and the Fury, or, Never Mind the Lavatories, Here's a Toilet Song

We've got a list of lavish lavatories as long as your arm, and will publish pictures in due course. Today, however, being Sunday, the mind craves not intellectual stimulus but rest and repose. Let us therefore relax with a Toilet Song.

Sex Pistols - Satellite

A suburban kid and ya got no name
You're too dumb baby and ya got no brain
I bet you're all so happy in suburbian dream
But I'm only laughing
You ain't in my scheme

Baby
I love you

I only ever listen when you're on the phone
From your safely-restricted-zone home
When I got nothin' better to do
Then there's always you
You're good for my shoe

Hey babe
I love you

You look at me and you just can't tell
You're looking like you've just come out of hell
Acting like a dirty lavatory
There ain't no bid for your chastity

Hey Baby,
I love you

I'm in love
I'm really in love

Try and join the scene but you're too obscene
You're looking like a big, fat, pig-faced queen
How did you figure that you'd be any use
when all you're gonna get is my abuse?

Hey babe,
I love you

You know I don't like where you come from
It's just a satellite of London
And when you look me in the eye
Just remember: I wanna die

Hey babe
I love you

I can't take no more, just stop

The Sex Pistols: Fine lyricists and authors of simply gobsmacking metaphors.
Image from Morrison Hotel Gallery