Friday, 6 February 2015

On the Inherent Evil of Urinals

You would probably not believe us if we told you how much effort we put into these little efforts of ours. You would also probably not believe us if we told you we were engaged in swooning prettily on a chaise-longue while bathing our temples with lavender water. In the latter supposition, you'd be dead right because that is total fucking bullshit. However, we have been engaged in a wide variety of pursuits requiring generous measures of oomph, zip and chutzpah this week, and are feeling a little bit weak in the knees as a result. We ought, by rights, to be assuming a horizontal, whisky-generated position. Still - the bog blog must go on! Also, our friends have been busy being communicative and splendid again, and their efforts should not go unrecognised!

Let's start with a news snippet sent to us by a friend who has strangely escaped the terrible fate of having a Privy Counsel pseudonym forced upon her, which states that US Senator Thom Tills has announced that he thinks restaurant staff shouldn't be forced to wash their hands, because capitalism. We have two words to spare for the good senator: Typhoid and Mary.

Another awesome thing sent to us comes from Tudor Friend, and is a Guardian article about how urinals are degrading to men. It contains the following words, by a journalist called Peter Ormerod who seems, judging by his writing, to be a pretty cool dude, but who unfortunately professes an ill-judged preference for David Bowie (it's ok, Peter - we all have our quirks and lunacies):
The thing is, I’d happily trade in my male privilege for a world without [urinals]. I’m 35 years old and have never knowingly used one. Now I find such matters phenomenally difficult to discuss, and struggle to utter even the gentlest euphemism concerning the expulsion of bodily waste. But all it takes for evil to triumph is for good people to say nothing – and as urinals are evil in porcelain, I feel a duty to let it all out.
We find these words worthy of applause, a chocolate cake, and a medium-sized trumpet fanfare!

To celebrate the fact that both our informants are associated with the fair city of York, let's have a couple of photos of  some really, really, really bad toilets in a pub where we have, on many, many, many occasions, had much, much, much fun and hijinks - the Judges Lodging! (Or, as we used to call it, in the carefree fashion of our youth, "J-Lo's".)

The less said about this, the better.

It doesn't get any better in the other picture.

If you venture down into the J-Lo's bar, do take care with the Old Rosie cider - it packs one hell of a punch (there's a reason it's named after a steamroller). Also exercise ceaseless vigilance when it comes to all the varieties of Yorkshire ale.

We don't have a whole lot else to say, except peace out and let's have a festive video!

Festive video - Kitty, Daisy & Lewis, Smoking in Heaven

Related Reading
That time when Semi-Intellectual Friend was really freaked out by a urinal:
Rampant Titillation - Basically, a Real-Life Epistolary Novel!
Our own experience of using a urinal: Shewees Are a Girl's Best Friend
All posts about the magnificent city of York
If you enjoy handwashing, this might delight and edify you: all posts about handwashing


  1. They've completely redecorated Judges' Lodgings and changed the layout - it looks really good!

  2. Enlightened Friend08 February, 2015

    P.S. If that Guardian article is not bad satire, then it's the work of a fucking moron. One of the worst things I've ever read.

    1. We may be more paranoid than the average person, but having had to turn men wishing to urinate in our garden away on more one one occasion, and having encountered much ire as a result, we're inclined to agree with the author about the unfettered and immoral nature of some varieties of male urination.


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