Onward, Kristianstad's Older Citizenry

 We have partied, recently, using various different methods. For instance, we have partied a) like it's 1937, b) like everything is terrible but at least there's beer and country music, and also c) like the end of the world is nigh and all of the champagne needs to be consumed at once, without delay. This wild mix of qualitative and quantitative methods has left everyone feeling somewhat disorientated, but thankfully Jonny has been sending us toilet photos throughout, and we shall no doubt get through even this unsettling period.

Aforementioned reliable toilet correspondent wrote to us saying, in his characteristic terse manner:

Posh hotel.

This hotel is so posh it employs people to roll up little towels, for your convenience. And there's a fainting chair, in the gents'!

Check out the posh toiletries, and the marble, and the mixer tap. Is this an illustration of the top level of the Maslow hierarchy?

Well, the poets tell how Pancho fell. Lefty's living in a cheap hotel. Jonny, on the other hand, is living it large! Woof!

Terse, rugged, and staying in posh hotels. Is Jonny the Hemingway of toilet selfies?

Remember when we went to Kristianstad and ended up explaining fermented herring to a steel slide player from North Carolina? For reasons that seemed logical at the time, we went back to this provincial town for another cultural experience, and got the opportunity to review the bogs of no fewer than two venues: The Bishops Arms pub and the Teatern theatre. 

The beer in The Bishop's Arms was, unsurprisingly, top-notch. However, we must say that on the occasion when we visited, the malodorous state of the ladies' loo left a lot to be desired.

The beautiful Art Nouveau theatre was packed to the gills with an audience eager to consume some of Nashville's finest musical exports. Said audience was not of the youthful, giddy variety, given to pranks and hi-jinks, but rather calm, collected and mature, prone to staying steady in their seats. It had not allowed its collected maturity to prevent it, however, from donning a variety of checked clothing, and one or two of the really mature audience members even sported fringed garments. 

The Kristianstad theatre is a wonder of grace and light. Not so the toilets, alas; although clean, they are prosaic to a painful degree. When will the citizenry of Kristianstad rise up and demand facilities that match the soul of the building? A population that is capable of devotion strong enough to result in fringed shirts is surely able to lobby for soulful toiletry? Onward, Kristianstad's older citizenry! Unto the breach!

Top: The Bishops Arms Pub, Kristianstad branch.
Bottom: The painfully prosaic bogs in the Teatern theatre.

 Last, but not least, we had occasion to visit the toilets in the party penthouse of the Turning Torso building in Malmö. We interpreted the taps as constituting either a practical IQ test, or some kind of shibboleth designed to separate the wheat from the chavs: they were so hard to operate that one could have solved the Riemann hypothesis in the time it took to work out how to wash one's hands. Possibly one needs to be posh to know how to push these taps.

 

Did tiny, rolled-up towels suddenly become a trend? When did this happen? And also why? And, for that matter, how? We do not understand this process. Have we been reading the wrong magazines?

Today's Festive Video is about not being broken.

 

Festive Video - Ross Cooper, I Rode the Wild Horses

Related Reading

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That time when we wondered if Jonny might be the Marlon Brando of toilet selfies: Echoes of Edgar Allan Poe 

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That time when we went to see a country band and ended up explaining fermented herring to a steel slide player from North Carolina: Where East Meets West

Life, Art, Howling

The world keeps turning, and the old maxim "Life's a bitch and then you die" remains true. How about some entertainment while we wait? 

Jonny has sent us new pictures which are not only of very high quality, but which provide a pleasingly morbid commentary on the current state of the world. This toilet, for instance, looks like it's preparing for a post-Brexit nuclear wasteland:

Woof! Check out Jonny's rakish fur jacket!

A clear contender for the Dinge mit Gesicht website! Jonny calls this work of art "Happy toilet".

The next photo is, we are reliably informed, from a supermarket toilet. The description reads almost like a bleak, acerbic haiku:

Temporary toilets in Garforth Tesco
A damn sight better than their regular ones
(Which I think are getting refurbed)

Finally, we offer this gem, captioned "Double trouble".

What can one do, except thump one's leg against the floor and howl with abandon?

Plenty of material, here, for Jonny's ever-expanding fan-base. We should, however, offer our readers some cultural refinement. Here's a contribution from Our Mum, who went, together with Our Favourite Aunt, to visit the Kosta Boda Art Hotel, in a benighted hell-hole in the dark woods of southern Sweden. If you must visit benighted hell-holes, we suppose you might at least visit one that has a good toilet. Well done.

We have reams and reams of good toilet material from various sources but, to paraphrase the poet, we're mongrel-bitch tired and our fist cannot form letters any more, so fuck off, darlings, and leave us alone.

In case you haven't seen our recent Jonny-themed meme yet, you're welcome:

Several of our friends seem, for various reasons, to be in need of break-up songs, and we have, in an attempt to be helpful, started a collection. Here's one that we rather like. It is useful, we find, in many different types of situations.

Festive Video: Whitney Rose, I Don't Want Half, I Just Want Out


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Feeling Single, Seeing Double: Sct. Clemens Brewery, Aarhus 

Feeling Single, Seeing 1.5: In Which Things Are Insanely Bleak, But Luckily There Are Pictures of Jonny

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Marsupials! Politeness! Hand Sanitizer!; or, Deconstructed Ranting; or, We're Fucked If We Can Find a Theme

It is important, in these dark times, to remember the things that bring light and joy: decent plumbing, handwashing, human rights, wine, babe parades. We reminisced recently, on our Facebook page, about that time when we realised that Father Ted is kind of a babe! The Jonny Babe Parade is obviously immensely fulfilling, but we reckon the more babes that are highlighted, the merrier!

The post in which we weirdly perv on poor Ted happens to contain an example of unwelcome creatures that infest Australian toilets. We are grateful that our friend Maureen took the opportunity of mentioning many more critters that lurk in the dunnies Down Under:

The Privy Counsel What a pity you forgot other unwanted guests in Australian toilets: frogs, gekkos, (little lizards with pads on their feet) snakes and cane toads appear with regularity in the north of Australia. As a young woman I shared toilets with many quokkas (marsupials) at Rottnest Island (just off the coast near Perth in Western Australia). Sadly for the quokkas, toilets moved inside the cottages where they can no longer go.

We never thought we'd find cause to regret the advent of indoor plumbing, but clearly a quokka would be a delightful companion to have in one's outhouse!

Speaking of outhouses, a very dear friend of ours was kind enough to take us along to this one, which is charmingly situated on an islet in lake Orsasjön.

How charming! And how reassuring to know that one can heed the call of nature in a hygienic manner when having one's barbecue in the middle of a lake.

On opening the door, one finds these beautiful prints featuring views of the lake.

How charming - everything you need! Except, wait. THERE IS NO HAND SANITIZER. WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU NOT PUT HAND SANITIZER IN AN OUTHOUSE YOU ANIMALS???
(According to a reliable source, if hand sanitizer - which consists of at least 60 per cent alcohol - was left here it would be drunk by the people frequenting the bog quicker than you could say "twenty boozehounds on an island in the rain".)

All present and correct: It is traditional, in Sweden, to put pictures of the royal family in the outdoors bog (you can interpret this any way you want. Also, you can view more royal privy pictures here).

Another interesting bog we've come across recently is at the Falu Fängelse youth hostel in Falun. This friendly hostel, located in a 19th-century prison, offers cool (the walls are very thick), noise-insulated (the doors are very thick) rooms; a friendly atmosphere; and a museum in the basement! We've rarely come across a more festive lodging! The toilets are simple yet satisfying.

Plenty of reliable coat hooks.

A gratifyingly prison-like light fixture.

There is nothing lacking here.

We adore clear signage!

An old-fashioned Swedish mixer tap, good soap, and recycled paper towels. All thoroughly fulfilling.

Speaking of prisons we've had occasion to note, recently, that there are too many dudes out there being arseheads on Twitter. If you are guilty of having spent your time being insolent to, for example, a young woman who is fighting for her own life, and the lives of other people, we have one word for you: FUCKING WELL DESIST. Obviously all our readers are highly civilised and would never dream of doing such a thing, but nonetheless, we would like to take this opportunity to remind everyone of the importance of politeness. As Caitlin Moran so wisely says,

Being polite is possibly the greatest daily contribution everyone can make to life on Earth.

(How to Be a Woman, 2011)

All you achieve, when being deliberately rude, is revealing your own insecurity. You don't like immigrants / women having rights / amusing pictures of ducks? Fine. That's no reason to act boorishly to someone trying to help people in a difficult situation. Instead of sitting around on your arse on Twitter, get the fuck out there and do something constructive. Volunteer for a women's shelter. Help the neighbours paint the fence. Plant sunflowers. Get your tools out and build a bird house, or a beehive. LITERALLY ANYTHING. And when voicing your opinions, do so in a constructive and civilised manner.

Naturally, not everyone being abusive, online or in real life, is a man. Women are rude, too. But it is a statistically proven fact that most violent crimes and most acts of aggression are committed by men. And you need only do a quick scan of rude messages on Twitter to conclude that most of them are from males with apparently nothing better to do than shout abuse at strangers. If you don't like us saying that, fine. It's still true. Here are some facts to ponder before you start shouting, and/or beating your chest like a drum, causing chest-hair to fly in all directions (we hope you get the hoover out occasionally).

We found an amusing sticker on a bog-standard, half-arsed train toilet that said, simply, "Leif!" We thought it illustrated rather nicely the fact that not only most of the violence in this world, but also most of the urine on toilet seats, emanates from men. Most of you are all right - great, even - but dudes. As a sex, you've got some work to do. Leif! Whether that's your name or not! Fucking well remember to aim!

PLEASE. FUCKING WELL AIM.

During a trying and difficult time in our life recently, Shewee Fiend Friend, showing true solidarity and sisterhood, sent us this glittery toilet the minute she finished taking 1) the piss and 2) obvious delight in her rather vibrant schadenfreude. We are forever grateful.

Hurrah! A festive, glittery toilet seat!

THE SCREAMING BLOODY HORROR!!!!!!!

These are, to quote Shewee Fiend Friend's actual words, "Hideous taps in my [English] hotel room". The noise you heard just then was caused by the vast amount of air molecules that were displaced on us shuddering massively. (Note how these taps are eerily reminiscent of the ones in our Toilet Tale Terminator Toilet?)

In order not to lose our minds completely, what with all the fascism being dished out left, right, and centre, lets have not one but TWO Jonny Babe Parade toilet selfies! The first one was accompanied, fitting rather nicely into our earlier prison theme, by the words "Fighting criminals in the urinals":

"It's not who I am underneath, but what I do, that defines me" - let's bloody well hope, dudes, that what you are doing is not piddling on toilet seats!

On receiving the second picture, one fairly average Sunday at 00:03 am, we asked, reasonably we thought, what was in the many pictures on the wall. The reply the next day read, "Not sure. Was very drunk". You can't say fairer than that!

HUBBA HUBBA WOOF!

Today's Festive Video comes from a charming gentleman we happened to run into at the eminent musical event Orsayran. It's called "Kvinnor är smartast", which translates as "Women are the smartest". We are rather inclined to agree.

Festive Video: Sigge Hill, Kvinnor är smartast


Related Reading

Join us in weirdly perving on Father Ted: Theme: "Unwanted Guests". Also, A Surprising Pin-Up!

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Another toilet we enjoyed in the environs of Orsasjön: Stockholm Central Station: The Trauma Is So Great We Are Brought To Quoting Cicero

Another charming example of pictures of the royal family serving as toilet decorations: By the Sea - A Toilet Blogger's Holiday

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A constructive rant from our friends at the Out of Lines blog: From Random Dudes on the Internet Deliver Us, O Lord

Ignorance is no excuse - check out the Feminism 101 site for information on all the many ways the world is fucked up!

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Terminator Toilet 

Moral Resolve and Wishful Thinking: A Stiff Upper Lip, A Sturdy Coat Hook, Hair Conditioner, A Cup of Tea

As our hero Bertie Wooster so wisely notes, the ability to keep one's lip stiff and upper in challenging times can mean the difference between hope and despair. This is not easy when, to paraphrase ourselves, a shitstorm of racism, sexism, and every kind of -ism you can think of, including nazism, has been unleashed upon the world. Still, we keep aiming for facial rigidity.

We have already mentioned P. G. Wodehouse's searingly intelligent sarcasm on the topic of fascist dictators, and shall not go off on that tangent again just now. Instead, let us remember Bertie Wooster's musings on labial elevation which, if we haven't got this completely arse-backwards, are as follows:

It has been well said of Bertram Wooster by those who enjoy his close acquaintance that if there is one quality more than another that distinguishes him, it is his ability to keep the lip stiff and upper and make the best of things. Though crushed to earth, as the expression is, he rises again - not absolutely in mid-season form, perhaps, but perkier than you would expect and with an eye alert for silver linings.

(Wodehouse, P. G. Joy in the Morning. London: Penguin, 1999)

Another person who promotes the idea of hope is of course Rebecca Solnit. We exhort you to read her writings at every opportunity, and to continue fighting fascism. At the Privy Counsel, we are stiff in our resolve to keep our lip stiff and upper (and mercifully free of the frighteningly unflattering Hitler moustache), possibly aided by a stiff gin and tonic or four.

We reckon we could all do with some encouragement in our lip-stiffening and general hardening the fuck up, which is why we are delighted to have many spiffing pictures to show you today!

First of all we have this excellent coat hook, photographed by Shewee Fiend Friend at LaGuardia Airport. It is sturdy and reassuring, offering strength and solidity without showing a trace of megalomaniac or homicidal tendencies. This is what we all crave - reliability and a steadfast adherence to principles. This coat hook is not shiny and golden; it doesn't sparkle alluringly, play golf, or make empty boasts on Twitter. It is prudent, tactful and considerate. It offers support, not judgement. It is, simply, a decent coat hook.

 

 Continuing the coat hook theme, here is another one which we're pretty sure is from Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam. When visiting Amsterdam recently, we were impressed not just by the quality of the plumbing, but by the friendly, welcoming atmosphere and helpful locals. The city is of course also home to the Anne Frank Museum, and if that is not a chilling reminder of the result of fascism, we don't know what it is a chilling reminder of.

Like the coat hook above, this one isn't flashy, but functional. It keeps its promises. It wouldn't dream of inveigling and insinuating, but speaks clearly, keeping its facts straight and its moral compass aligned with the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. (This is really not hard, people.)

 

Remember when we almost started a competition between everyone's favourite toilet-posing piece of hunka-hunka-burning-love, Jonny, and Shewee Fiend Friend? This exciting drama was played out in three fiercely flippant bog blog updates in 2016 and 2017, entitled Oh, Jonny - Losing Our Hearts to a Loose Cannon; In Which the Privy Counsel Goes Ballistic  (don't worry, we don't charge anything for the clever puns - they are completely free!); and Nothing Is Certain But Death, Taxes, and Knees. 

We hereby have the honour of presenting yet another contribution to what must probably henceforth be known as the Privy Counsel Cannon Babe Parade! This cannon stands outside the lighthouse Långe Jan, on the southern tip of the island Öland, off the coast of Sweden. The lighthouse was erected during the reign of King Gustav III, who incidentally granted freedom of religion, enabling Jews to live in Sweden without converting, in the 1770s. Parts of the Privy Counsel can boast Jewish ancestry thanks to this festive and reasonably enlightened monarch - hurrah!

 

Staying on Öland, we found a refuge in the shape of a very safe and comforting toilet at Hotel Skansen, a favourite haunt of ours in the summer. Note the beautiful floor tiles, sensible hygiene arrangements and thoughtful décor.

 

 

The excitement does not end there! Our room at the above-mentioned hotel had not only soap and shampoo but hand lotion and actual, bona fide conditioner! We have been complaining about the lack of hair conditioner in hotels since at least 2012, and find the provision of it a boon!

The shower: Shampoo and conditioner!

The sink: Soap and hand lotion!

Last but definitely not least, let us feast our eyes on this toilet at the friendly Persian restaurant Khatoon, in Lund, Sweden! The name, according to the menu blurb, means "queen" or similar, and is representative of the historically strong position of women in north-western Iran. Isn't that an encouraging factoid!

The best of both worlds: combining beauty and hygiene!

A hefty and helpful coat hook

Paper towels and a decorative door

Today's Festive Video is a song that's been playing rather a lot at the Privy Counsel of late. We heartily wish all our readers the kind of love that makes a cup of tea.

Festive Video: Gretchen Peters, Love That Makes a Cup of Tea


Related Reading

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Previous posts in what we must now probably refer to as the Privy Counsel Cannon Babe Parade:
Oh, Jonny - Losing Our Hearts to a Loose Cannon
In Which the Privy Counsel Goes Ballistic 
Nothing Is Certain But Death, Taxes, and Knees

Another of the many posts in which we rant about Nazis: 2016 in Summary: Holding on to Hope, or, We're Really Cunting Angry, or, Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

The earliest recorded instance of us complaining about the lack of hair conditioner in hotels: Villa Ingrid: Toilet Paper and Loveliness 

Rebecca Solnit's Hope in the Dark is available as a free e-book

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights is available online or as a PDF, and has been translated into over 500 languages

The Girl Bartenders Hate

There are certain situations in this life where you and your travelling partner end up looking at each other in horror and saying "our mothers must never find out about this" then shaking your heads vigorously only to wince violently, because you had forgotten that you were in no fit state to shake, nod or move your head in any direction.

We experienced one of the above-mentioned situations recently, on our sojourn to Canada. In our last post we predicted that it "is a story that is definitely not safe for work and is, perhaps, best not told at all. We suspect it will seep out gradually over the years, in moments of inebriation. You may as well lock any children in a dark cupboard and duct tape the cat's ears together now, saving you time later".

We stand by these words and will defend them come hell, high water or large amounts of really delicious rosé. However, we have reached the point where we have recovered enough to show you some cheerful pictures from just before our metaphorical train derailed and crashed into a large rock surrounded by bears, broken bottles, and horror clowns.

One thing that never leaves us, no matter how many weird pink shots we have unwisely accepted from strangers, is our constant gender analysis. We simply never stop scanning our surroundings and analysing the amount of sexism visible. (Before you ask: yes, this is obviously exhausting. But once you've seen the ever-present misogyny, you can't un-see it. Read more about what it is like in this article by the arse-kicking Emer O'Toole.) For example, though we had an amazing time in the bar of the Westwinds Motor Hotel in the wonderfully named town of Biggar, Saskatchewan, and enjoyed our conversations with the locals immensely, we couldn't help but notice the rampant injustice in the niceness of the men's toilets compared to the women's.

The urinal in the men's toilet in the motel bar in Biggar, Saskatchewan

Nice sinks, nice soap, recycled hand towels, hygienic aluminium surfaces.

We take no responsibility for anything that happened after this photo was taken.

Your Privy Counsellor bravely venturing into the gents' to record the state of the facilities.

In contrast: The ladies'. Old formica, tatty beige tiles. On the plus side: a new-looking paper towel dispenser.

Ruin and despair!

THIS IS NOT ON!

At least the coat hook was good.

Let us quickly have a picture of Jonny to cheer ourselves up.
Jonny wrote to us, some time ago:

I’ve got about 90 pictures of toilets to send you.
Including one from the spa Kiera Knightly was at

Rugged, on so many levels! Woof!

We replied, quite reasonably, with the single word "HUBBA!" Jonny, being a self-deprecating kind of gentleman, responded with "I assume that’s at the mixer taps?", to which we replied, in turn,

WHAT MIXER TAPS?
THERE'S MIXER TAPS? #DidntEvenNotice

Before we move on to today's Festive Video, we would just like to say one thing, and that thing is

WE'RE REALLY SORRY ABOUT THE VOMIT IN THE PARKING LOT.

Cheers.

Festive Video: Miranda Lambert, Ugly Lights


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Our previous post mentioning our Canadian Adventure