Thursday, 31 December 2020

Dunnies Down Under, or, Everything You Do Is Futile, or, Self-Medicating with Car-Sickness Tablets Is Not Hip

Being bored to the point of taking actual car sickness tablets - in the hope of being knocked out for twelve to fifteen hours - by the retrospectives and accounts of "highlights" that plague media as the calendar year approaches its end, we're not going to indulge in anything resembling either a) nostalgia or b) hand-wringing over the horrors of 2020. Instead, in a feat of if not optimism then at least a cynical refusal to engage with all the fuckery because who can be arsed any more, we're going to focus on toilet pictures from Australia.

Australian Friend, you will be pleased to know, is currently enjoying the sunshine and functioning plumbing of her homeland, and is, as regular readers are aware, an enthusiastic crapper correspondent. Here, for your enjoyment, is a selection of her recent missives!

"The delightful public toilet building in this colonial park."  
 Does this delightful public toilet remind us of anything? You bet your hair shirt it does! How about the public toilets in Cubbon Park, Bangalore? (Read our balanced and objective review here.)

"I know you don't like videos but I forgot and made you a video of a toilet. It has many things I believe you may approve of. It's from a Victorian (c. 1850s) 'beauty spot' and there were peacocks." 

Indeed, there are so many things that we approve of in this video that we lose count and have to watch the video again. And again! And again! And again!

Normally, at this stage in a bog blog post, we'd be ranting about whatever snag in the fabric of the cosmos we happen to find a personal affront at the moment, frothing at the mouth and stridently yelling things like "FEMINISM NEEDS TO BE MORE MILITANT!" or "DANISH MIXER TAPS ARE NOT REAL MIXER TAPS!" into the void, halting only when the inevitable hangover causes us to focus all our energies on holding on to the toilet floor. However, today we somehow find ourselves lethargic, like an Australian at the beach, quaffing Foster's and ogling the lifeguard while idly flicking their totally rad flipflops back and forth to the soothing rhythm of the sea. (Car sickness tablets are surprisingly effective.) Maybe the sum total of things that one feels the need to rant about reached a critical mass and sucked all of the ranting into a black hole in which the infuriated expressions of pent-up peevishness will disintegrate into spaghetti-like strings of discontent? We can't prove that this didn't happen and anyway, as we apparently wrote in 2016,


Remember that ultimately, everything you do is futile. The universe is a vast and terrifying void, containing one tiny speck of dust to which we are clinging, and ultimately destroying. We are, essentially, short-sighted monkeys with computers. Now relax, and stop giving a fuck. Have a drink, maybe.

 

As regular readers are aware we are not fans of children at the Privy Counsel, and we especially abhor pictures of children. However, here is a picture a friend of ours sent us of their child, of which we approve with enthusiasm bordering on militancy. Maybe this is what we should all be doing? Having a bath, in solitude, and forgetting all the rampant fuckwittage happening outside? Happy sodding new year. Have a bath. Have a drink, maybe.


 

We would encourage everyone to adopt the message in this Festive Video as their New Year's resolution.

Festive Video: Chopper Reed, Harden the Fuck Up

Happy new year. Harden the fuck up.


Related Reading

We simply cannot recommend our friend Maureen Helen's post on so-called gender-neutral toilets enough: Does dislike of all-gender toilets make me a bigot? 

(The answer, according to legislation being rolled out in Australia very soon, is a totalitarian YES.)

All posts featuring Australian Friend

All posts featuring Australia 

All posts featuring New Year's Eve 

Our review of the public toilets in Cubbon Park, Bangalore: A Passage To India: More Indian Toilets

We are remembering with fondness, today, that time when Australian Friend assured us we could finally stop worrying about monosodium glutamate 

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