Losing, Then Finding, One's a) Shewee and b) Mind

It is after the second or third hipster beer, in our experience, that the really tough questions make themselves known and demand to be taken into consideration. For instance, portaloos with a flush are obviously a game-changer, but where do they place on the grand scale of human endeavour? Are they on a par with fire and penicillin, or further down, more towards the level of Billy the Bass and duct tape? What would Abraham Maslow say? We predict that philosophers will be spending centuries hashing this one out.

We have many habits here at the Privy Counsel, some of which are healthy and many of which are downright deplorable. One habit of which we are not only particularly fond but which we like to think is positively edifying, is having beers with the friend we like to call Nerdy Beer-Obsessive Friend. We happened to be having beer and bewilderingly complex pizza with Nerdy Beer-Obsessive Friend the other day at a place called Benchwarmers, in Helsingborg, and were very pleased to come across this festive and also clean and coat-hook-enriched toilet, especially in light of the inevitable fatigue following upon a) a hard-hitting debate regarding the human condition in relation to portaloos, and b) pizza that requires an inordinate amount of cognitive effort just to figure out what the hell is on it, and why.

We're assuming that the flamingoes are ironic, but the thing about the modern age is that one can't tell the difference between even a joke and a bona fide news item. What chance do the flamingoes stand, in this climate, to signal the presence of irony, or lack thereof?

For those who enjoy almost seeing people, there is a special label just for you.

If you find this picture soothing, there may well be something wrong with you, but at least you're not the only one.

Attentive readers may remember our last post, even though it was published several days ago and nobody among our acquaintance has any memory left of anything occurring this side of 1994. Be that as it may, Shewee Fiend Friend, coming across the illuminative and edifying picture we were sent by Feisty French Friend, was moved to inform us of the changes that have recently occurred in her private life. She reported:

I sent [Male person in Shewee Fiend Friend's life] the beard/mullet toilet roll hanging model from your recent blog and he loved it

In the past year he has converted to full time beard-style hanging and his criticism of my hanging is so intense that I’ve now mostly given up and submit to your and his joint pressure

The funny part is, he believes he has always hung it this way. He has no memory of a time when chaos ruled his life and he did it differently every time, and when I tell him about that time, he claims I am lying

(Read more about this man's incomprehensible approach to bog roll here.)

Reader, this left us reeling. In a frightening and ever-changing universe, Shewee Fiend Friend's misguided stance on toilet paper is one of the few certainties keeping us grounded. What even happens, we asked ourselves, if she has started hanging her bog roll the right way round? As in, cosmically? Will the stars come loose from their sockets and wander about willy-nilly, will the oceans roil and roar to the rhythm of low-quality rockabilly, will the earth quake and maybe even spontaneously combust? Thankfully, Shewee Fiend Friend assured us that: 

[This] doesn’t mean my beliefs have changed. I just now deliberately hang the roll wrong.

After this emotional roller-coaster, we naturally needed a drink. Thus we let ourselves be persuaded to visit a beer festival in Malmö, against our better judgement. You may imagine our relief when we discovered that the hygiene facilities, despite the high concentration of hipsters at this event, were neither portaloos nor ironic toilets reminiscent of a cattle shed, but perfectly civilised facilities offering soap, coat-hooks and spare bog roll. (There was however a sink for filling one's water bottle which was, inevitably, constructed in the likeness of a cattle trough.)

There are actually two different kinds of soap here but as Nerdy Beer-Obsessed Friend pointed out, at least one of them smells terrible.

Normally we'd quibble with the placement of the hook (too near the toilet), but on this occasion we were just so grateful, among the onslaught of various hipster horrors, that there was one.

You can just about spot the spare bog roll, unhygienically placed on the floor. Again, we were just so grateful that there was one.

There is another heartwarming story we've been meaning to tell you about a thing that happened outside some portaloos in Helsingborg in probably 2017, but God only knows where the photos are and we can only promise to bring the subject up again in the unlikely event that - no, we can't even imagine what improbable occurrence might cause that story to be told. Let us swiftly move on to these lovely photos from Jonny, containing the message referenced in a previous post, regarding the Twelve Days of Cistern. The thought of this future event is the only thing currently enabling us to view the darkening days and approaching winter, with its attendant emotional carnage and horror clowns, with anything resembling equanimity.

What can one even do, except maybe sigh and possibly clutch one's throat? Well, quite.

In a clear parallel to Margaret Mitchell writing the last chapter of Gone with the Wind first, we constructed the title of this bog blog post before composing the actual post, and are now left with an obligation, however imaginary, to write something about the trauma we experienced the other day when we could find neither a) our Shewee nor b) our back-up Shewee. Reader, it was rough.

Festive Video: Tré Burt, Know Your Demons

 

Related reading

On the Nature of Academic Friendships

All posts featuring duct tape

All posts featuring Nerdy Beer-Obsessive Friend

All posts featuring Shewee Fiend Friend

Moving Heaven and Earth: Polarisation and Proto-Indo-Europeans

That time when Shewee Fiend Friend went about the countryside reclaiming her womanhood and urinating all over everything: SISTERS STANDING UP FOR THEMSELVES

All posts featuring Jonny 

All posts featuring pheasants 

Why do hipsters require sinks shaped like cattle troughs?

All posts featuring Shewees

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


Related Reading

All posts featuring Canada
All posts featuring Shewee Fiend Friend (she being the travelling companion mentioned above)
All posts featuring everyone's favourite rugged gentleman, Jonny
Our previous post mentioning our Canadian Adventure

Piss-Poor Performance

The German Bildungsideal has a lot going for it, comprising, as it does, not only formal training in scientific methods but a wider cultural education. When striving for Bildung, as opposed to mere training, one acknowledges that the world is a diverse place with innumerable strands of history, all equally worth pursuing, and that knowing something about things that perhaps at first feel unfamiliar may enrich not only one's life but one's research. This is what Nazis and misogynists the world over fail to understand - that diversity is a strength, not a threat, and that homogeneity stifles academic pursuits.

In short, hanging out with different kinds of people will most likely enrich one's life, in ways one cannot foresee. We have the great fortune of spending a fair amount of time hanging out with awesome Swedish teachers, who seem to be in possession of arcane, almost occult, knowledge. For instance, one of them pointed out to us the other day that Swedish reggae is a real thing. We embraced this factoid with gusto. Enthusing about it in a social media forum, another awesome Swedish teacher of our acquaintance informed us that not only has Swedish reggae been around for yonks, there are even diverse kinds, including feminist Swedish reggae!

As we pointed out in a previous blog post, "We like, at the Privy Counsel, to be seen as competent people. When you are a self-professed intellectual, you set your standards high. [...] in most areas of life we like to think of ourselves as clued-up and capable. Our source criticism is rigid, our soap is the monkey-friendly kind, and we wouldn't dream of using a semi-colon where a colon is clearly indicated." However, in our ongoing efforts to achieve Bildung, we are ever delighted to come across something we didn't know existed, especially when it is something delightful like - raarrrr! - kick-arse feminist Swedish reggae!

At other times, one learns things that are in no way surprising or new, but are nonetheless incredibly depressing, such as the fact that there are 35 urinals for men in Amsterdam, but only three for women. A Dutch woman was arrested for urinating in public the other day, and was reprimanded by the judge, who claimed that she should have used a male urinal. Clearly, Bildung is not a requirement for Dutch judges. If it were, the judge in question might have realised that actually, there are numerous anatomical, social and safety-related impediments to women who wish to use a urinal designed for men. We once tried to use a urinal in Hoxton Square, London, one new year's eve, but had to give up, despite being armed with a Shewee. There was also the time when we almost got in trouble with the police for urinating in Golden Square. And another time when we faced the dilemma of not finding a toilet in a park, and worried about perverts hiding in the bushes. Really, the lack of female-friendly facilities in the world's public places is upsetting. As anyone will testify who has ever squatted behind a shrubbery in mid-winter, worrying about being raped, there is a massive need for public urinals for women.

Before we combust with rage over the rampant misogyny in evidence everywhere, let us enjoy some soothing pictures from a very dear Lithuanian friend of ours, who recently experienced numerous adventures in Belgium:

Beer and books! Is this the perfect toilet??

Lithuanian Friend says:

Wonderful local bar in Belgium and it felt so nice in this toilet with [a book wallpaper]

As everyone who lives with a chronic pain condition is aware, sometimes a hot bath is the only thing that helps. As, further, everyone who does daily battle with the fuck-ups that comprise the world we live in is aware, sometimes a hot bath, preferably with a glass of wine, if one can get over one's paranoid fear of ending up an alcoholic, is the only thing that helps. We love this picture from Lithuanian friend of a bath tub in a Belgian hotel room. And yes! that's right! That is Emer O'Toole's Girls Will Be Girls on the bathside table.

A bathtub, and Emer O'Toole's Girls Will Be Girls - is this the perfect hotel room??

Let us move on to today's Festive Video. Feminist Swedish reggae. You're welcome.

Festive Video - Syster Sol, Bland Dom

Related Reading

 All posts pertaining to public urination:

Shewees Are a Girl's Best Friend!

A Morally Improving Story for World Toilet Day

An Annoyingly Long, But Brilliantly Clever, Post, Including Shewees, Beer, and Some Other Stuff

On dealing with fuck-ups:
If You Can Meet with Triumph and Disaster

"Let Them Eat Cake" - Could It Be Any More Obvious That a Man Designed These Toilets?

We would argue that most of us, however competent and organised we would like to appear in the eyes of the world, spend most of our lives lurching mindlessly in whatever direction we happen to be pushed by circumstances, eagerly grasping whatever alcoholic beverage is available come Friday night. However, even though we're happy, at the Privy Counsel, to take each day as it comes and live and let live, we appreciate the importance of some kind of guidelines to steer us straight. As regular readers will be aware, we defined two mottoes to live by a couple of years ago: PEOPLE SHOULD FUCK OFF MORE and FEMINISM NEEDS TO BE MORE MILITANT. These have stood us in good stead.

Last night, the beverage available happened to be the good kind of champagne, which was pleasant to a high degree, but more importantly, we formulated a new Privy Counsel rule of life! The third rule, now added to the canon, is ALWAYS GO TO THE TOILET TWICE.

"Hang on, hang on," you may be saying to yourself now, sitting up on your chaise-longue and agitatedly waving your tweed-clad arms about. "I'm perfectly happy going to the toilet just once. Why would I go twice just because some random toilet blogger with a record of showing poor judgement tells me to?" Your concerns, if this is you, are legitimate, and your logic infallible. However, hear us out - there is reason to our madness!

Say you're in a fancy seafood restaurant. For instance, to just grab an example at random, at Johan P in Malmö. Let's say you're throwing the good kind of champagne down your throat with chutzpah, and enjoying the feeling of it being Friday night and you not having to get up at the arse end of dawn the next day. Say you go to the toilet, and enjoy the fancy décor and well-appointed handwashing facilities. Say you snap a couple of pictures, feel pleased with your efforts, and go back to the table to continue guzzling champagne. Say someone with more life experience and less impaired reasoning skills points out that the toilet is, when you think about it, a unisex one. Say you laugh this statement off, arguing that you had a perfectly pleasant time during your visit to the toilet, entirely unharassed by bearded hipsters.

However, let's say that you, being trained in scientific methodology and critical thinking - even if your judgement has been temporarily clouded by vast amounts of the good kind of champagne - go back in some time later, for the sake of scientific enquiry and journalistic integrity. Let's say that, while washing your hands, no fewer than three persons of the male sex squeeze awkwardly past you.

THE HORROR!

We have always argued, and will continue to argue, that A SHIT TOILET IS ONE IN WHICH ONE IS FORCED TO WASH ONE'S HANDS IN THE COMPANY OF BEARDED HIPSTERS AGAINST ONE'S WILL.

In this case, the males in question were not so much bearded hipsters as bloated middle-aged men in unflattering trousers, but the tenet still stands. Only someone with very poor imagination would design a venue where a woman has to wash her hands in an enclosed space with random men twice her size, and not expect her to feel nervous and uncomfortable. We say this not because we dislike men, but because the statistics speak for themselves.

The majority of all reported sex crimes are committed by men, against women. When we say "the majority", we don't mean "something like two thirds", or even "something like three quarters", but "something like 98 %". Let that sink in. Now ponder the fact that sexual predators are opportunists, who harass, grope, and assault women when circumstances allow, and you will see that unisex toilets are a TERRIBLE IDEA.

To all restaurateurs out there who are considering putting in new toilets, we implore you: HARDEN THE FUCK UP AND GIVE THE WOMEN THEIR OWN FUCKING TOILET. Women-only spaces exist not because women are irrational creatures who insist on having several expensive square metres to themselves, but because toilets and changing rooms are not neutral spaces, and because the world is not safe for women.

Let us summarise our argument: Sex is biological reality. Gender is a social construct. No matter how dedicated we are to the struggle of crushing the patriarchy and pulverising gender norms, pretending that gender doesn't exist doesn't solve the problem of sexist abuse. Hence, until we're equal, and one sex isn't constantly subjected to sexual violence by the other sex, let there be segregated toilets.

PEOPLE SHOULD FUCK OFF MORE.
FEMINISM NEEDS TO BE MORE MILITANT.
Also, when writing a toilet review, ALWAYS GO TO THE TOILET TWICE. The first time may not show you every facet or even faucet (especially if you're off your head on the good kind of champagne).

Having ranted for a suitable amount of time, let us enjoy some photos from the well-equipped, but uncomfortable and potentially dangerous, toilets at Johan P:

We have no complaints about the toilet except that it has no coat hook. Could it be any more obvious that a man designed these toilets? The equivalent of Marie Antoinette's "Let them eat cake" is the male toilet designer's "Let them put their handbags on the floor". No person in their right mind wants to put their handbag on a toilet floor - BLOODY WELL GIVE WOMEN COAT HOOKS!

This is all very well, but we still don't understand why sinks must look like cattle troughs.

The soap and hand lotion was very nice, and smelled of lavender and thyme!

Another aspect of Johan P is the acoustics in the restaurant are terrible. There are times when you would give your right arm not to be forced to listen to the person next to you, but there are also times when you would quite like to hear what your company is saying, and Johan P is not a good place for hearing whatever conversational pyrotechnics may be going off around you. The question of acoustics technically falls outside the range of our blog, but we thought it worth mentioning. (Let us also note, however, in the interest of fairness, that the champagne at Johan P is excellent and the moules frites are to die for.) Speaking of acoustics, we have some exciting toilets from Audiologist Friend, and also from Australian Friend and Jonny (who counts as a friend for administrative reasons), in our vast cavern of an archive - something for you all to look forward to!

Now, for a Festive Video. This one appeals to us for several reasons.

Festive Video - Shannon McNally, Lonesome, Ornery and Mean


Related Reading

Lest we lose hope: An excellent example of a toilet designed by women, for women:
Caitlin Moran Really Does Make Everything Better

If you enjoy looking at pictures of sinks that look like cattle troughs (pervert!), this is for you:
The Hours and Minutes Ticking Away

A post in which we complain about the horrors of unisex toilets and sinks in the shape of cattle troughs, simultaneously:
Stockholm Central Station: The Trauma Is So Great We Are Brought To Quoting Cicero

A rant about the horrors of suddenly finding oneself washing one's hands in the company of fifteen bearded hipster dudes, all smiling awkwardly:
Hungover Ranting: Festschrift to Medievalist (With a Side-Interest in Roman Archaeology) Friend

All posts featuring unisex toilets

All posts featuring Malmö

If You Are a Medievalist in Your Mid- to Late Thirties, and/or Want to Save the World, This Is for You

Does the world terrify you? If not, it probably should.

We like to think of ourselves as the Rebecca Solnit of toilet blogs. Rebecca Solnit, as everyone knows who follows her on social media, is a voice of reason and a source of light in a very dark, very desolate wilderness. Her social media accounts also function as rallying points for people who want to do something to defend the values they believe in, but aren't sure what.

When you find yourself overcome with despair at the state of the world, have a lie-down on the chaise-longue for a bit, if it makes you feel better. Go on, clutch your head. Clutch it good. Roll your eyes and groan. Do not restrain yourself - groan good and loud! Good. Now get up, and make yourself a cup of tea. Or, if you fancy it, a good stiff whisky! Then stop despairing, and do one thing. If we all do just one thing, together we will have done many things, and it will really help!

In the spirit of Rebecca Solnit, we have compiled an officious list of things you can do to defend democracy, depending on where you live. Pick one, pick many - get roaringly drunk and do them all! You're welcome.

If you live in the US you can:

• Keep calling your representatives
• If you are able to, donate to the ACLU
• Support Black Lives Matter
• Resist racist abuse
• Keep marching!

If you live in Poland you can:

• Oh, bloody hell. Probably keep marching?

If you live in the UK you can:

• Write to Boots and tell them why you will be boycotting them
• If you are able to, support Jean Hatchet as she cycles for murdered women and fights against the closures of women's shelters
• If you are able to, support Sisters Uncut
• Resist racist abuse. Seriously, if you are in a public place and you see someone being abused, there are very simple steps you can take to help.
• Keep resisting Theresa May's proto-fascist government, for instance by donating, if you are able, to Jo Cox's fund
• You may have noticed that the number of homeless people in the UK has visibly risen since the Tories started decimating social services. If you are able to, support a homeless charity, for instance this one.
• Keep marching!

If you live in Australia you can:

• Keep supporting Rosie Batty
• Keep marching!

If you live in Scandiwegia you can:

• Keep an eye out for neo-Nazis and resist, resist, resist
• Support the Vi står inte ut movement, and protest the deportations of vulnerable young people to chaotic, dangerous countries
• Speak out against the anti-choice movement
• Keep marching!

Wherever you live:

• Note that women's health is under threat everywhere. Accept that reproductive rights are human rights. Understand that women in control of their fertility are better able to access education, care for their families, and build stable communities. Remember that girls' education is the key to building a better, safer world.

For more tips and resources, here is a really great site.


We reckon that's enough pontificating for now. How about some toilet pictures? We have some exciting pictures from Öland, a very pretty island in the Baltic, off the coast of Sweden. You may want to make sure you are sitting down - perhaps with a fortifying glass of whisky! - before reading any further, since we have some quite dirty pictures. Not dirty in the sense "depicting Jonny in the bath with only a toy battleship to cover his modesty", alas. We don't have any of those at the moment. However, we have to make do with what we've got, and we hope that you will enjoy our dirty pictures, despite the sad lack of Jonny-related nudity.


Let's start out in Gettlinge! This Iron Age burial site will be of interest to medievalists the world over, whether they are in their mid- to late thirties or even older, or (do they even exist?) younger. Kind people have helpfully installed a rudimentary public toilet in the vicinity of the burial site, so that one may satisfy one's soul and one's historical interest, and also, possibly simultaneously, heed one's physical needs.

A rude hut

Inside: a VERY rudimentary, and not very clean, toilet

The ceiling is also rudimentary

Ah, poetry! A festive piece of graffiti on the wall says:

Bovar och banditer
som kommer hit och skiter
Om ni något hjärta har
Lämna lite papper kvar

Our very rudimentary, non-rhyming translation goes as follows:

(Thieves and bandits
Who come here for a crap
If you have any heart
Leave some paper)

We can't remember exactly where we saw this festive flower pot, but it may have been in the village of Näsby. The sign says "Hundpiss - nej tack!" ("Dog piss - no thank you!").

In the interest of recording public toilets next to sites of public interest, here is a similarly rudimentary toilet by the side of the road, next to the Möckelmossen bog (yes, really).

A very rudimentary interior...

...belies the absolutely magnificent exterior! Woof!

Next, let's check out the toilets at Hotell Skansen. They are pretty bog-standard hotel toilets, really, but Skansen has a special place in our heart and not only because they make their own whisky.

Feel free to adore this mixer tap and hygienic towel arrangement in an unhealthy, heathenish manner.

An exemplary arrangement

Next, let's check out some church toilets. It's been a while! As we may have mentioned before, we are red-hot, stark raving atheists at the Privy Counsel, but we do enjoy a visit to a historically significant church now and then, especially if it has a good toilet (as churches in Sweden often, helpfully, do). We start with Gärdslösa kyrka, which we have already reviewed in the past.

Alas, readers, we have reached the age where we repeat ourselves! We have already posted a review of this toilet, many moons ago. We should perhaps have contented ourselves with noting that this bog hasn't changed at all since 2012 and left it at that, but we just couldn't resist the temptation to publish more pictures of it, no doubt for self-aggrandizing reasons of our own.

The charming hut housing the toilet at Gärdslösa church.

Feel free to celebrate the holy trinity of this sturdy and most excellent coat-hook.

Exciting wall paintings inside the church

Some 13th-century runes that casually got left on the wall

Have we got energy for one more church? Haha, of course we do! Let us, without further ado, admire pictures from Algutsrums kyrka, whose roots go back to the 10th century.

A very exciting, though we say so ourselves, grave stone, commemorating a parson by the name of Erlend, who died in Algutsrum in 1345. If you crave more information you can get it here and perhaps here. Maybe even here. 

The best thing about the church in Algutsrum - even better than the Latin inscription! - is the toilet. Here is the charming little door, just to your left as you enter.

A most hygienic and virtuous arrangement!

We would never advocate keeping toilet rolls on the floor, but then again who are we to judge?

A charming and helpful sign advising the hapless visitor on how to work the lock

Let's do one more toilet on Öland, then we promise we will stop! Here is the toilet in the lovely little hipster café at Prästgården, Smedby.

Whatever happens to you in this toilet, rest assured that you will never be bored!

We cannot praise this charming and hygienic arrangement enough! It's even got our favourite Bliw soap!

Well done for reading this far! As a reward, here is a picture of cake. This cake was made by a very festive relative of ours. It is the best cake we have ever eaten, and we are never flippant about cake.

Now, it's Saturday night. Go out dancing and carousing! Immediately!

But first, let us have a Festive Video. This one is intended to reflect a conversation we had with Shewee Fiend Friend about female-only spaces. Turns out there's not enough of them. Sometimes, that's due to misogynistic abuse happening even in supposedly women-friendly environments. It could be due to people taking de Beauvoir's tenet that gender is something that is made, not something one is born with, and using it as a basis of further oppression.

Sometimes, a female-only space is more fun and friendly than a mixed space. Sometimes, a woman needs a women-only space to catch her breath and put her brave face back on. If you get invited to one: respect the rules and have fun! Sometimes, however, dudes who haven't been invited try to force their way into women-only spaces. To those dudes we would like to say: back the fuck off. If you find that you are encroaching on a safe space women have created for themselves, or find that you are spending your time shouting abuse at women, whether in real life or online,  here is a list of things you could be doing instead - including, but not limited to, starting a men's shelter, founding a support group to talk about football, and throwing yourself out the window.

Festive video: Jonathan Richman, I Was Dancing in the Lesbian Bar
(The studio version of this song, though less whimsical, is decidedly more audible.)



Related Reading

• How to resist and keep resisting - a guide for however long it takes
• Protest and persist: why giving up hope is not an option
• What to do if you are witnessing harassment

Rough and Tumble Escapism

Sometimes reality is so grim that one spends unreasonable time and energy constructing elaborate fantasies. This can be a productive strategy for many days or even weeks, but eventually, the whole thing will come tumbling down and one will have no choice but to get very drunk very quickly. We spent the other night imbibing fermented juices with enthusiasm, which turned out to be highly profitable, as evidenced by the following picture of a tumble dryer, taken by Audiologist Friend after we rather abruptly left the party:

Audiologist Friend sent us a message this morning, saying (a translation follows, for those too hungover to be able to read colloquial Swedish):

"Varför har jag bilder av torktumlare i min telefon? Ah det måste vara till [The Privy Counsellor]". Minns vårt telefonsamtal! Tydligen tog [vår andra kompis] typ samma bild (!) senare under kvällen, för att skicka till en annan kompis.

("Why do I have pictures of a tumble dryer on my phone? Ah, it must be for [The Privy Counsellor]". Remember our phone conversation! Apparently [our other friend] took basically the same picture (!) later in the evening, to send to another friend.)

We replied, soulfully, while gracefully clutching our head:

Haha, det var det du ringde om, va? Jag mindes samtalet, men inte vad det handlade om.

(Haha, that's what you rang us about, right? We remember the call, but not what it was about.)

Various members of the Privy Counsel enthusiastically escaping reality

Audiologist Friend retorted:

Hehe, jag ville ringa och kolla att du kommit hem OK. Berättade att jag hittat en tyst plats nämligen en toalett. Då sa du "Du tar väl bilder?" så då gjorde jag det.
När du gick vände sig [snubben vi pratade med] till mig och sa "Var det något jag sa?" varpå jag och [Meandering Friend] unisont förklarade "Nä, hon var bara trött, hon är lärare"

(Hehe, I wanted to check that you had got home ok. I told you that I had found a quiet place, namely the toilet. You then said, "You're taking pictures, right?", so I did.
When you left [the dude we were talking to] turned to me and said, "Was it something I said?" at which I and [Meandering Friend] explained in unison, "No, she's just tired; she's a teacher".

 As a last piece of escapism, let us share this picture of Jonny:

Jonny as a knight errant. WOOF!

As just one more piece of escapism, let's have this Festive Video featuring a band we listened to with enthusiasm in our youth. Now we're off to clutch our head some more, and maybe find some cheese.

Festive Video - Special Needs, Francesca


Related Reading
Rampant Murderous Nazis Are Taking Over the World, But Here Is a Picture of Jonny In a Toilet, for Your Convenience and Comfort 

Happy Pedalling in Berlin

Tally-ho! It's been a while since our last post, but your favourite feminist bog blog is back! With, if not a vengeance, at least a hangover. We spent yesterday evening in a bar with the most amusing beer names, and if there is one thing we at the Privy Counsel enjoy, it is beer and amusing names!

Today we are mostly enjoying total silence, and tea, but if you fancy it we might also enjoy some kick-arse toilet pictures together. Audiologist Friend writes:

Tänkte att Tyskland kan väl inte ha något att komma med efter alla roliga badrum i England och Wales men måste dela med mig av denna hygieniska konstruktion!!! Händerna är fria eftersom man trampar för att spola toaletten, spola kranvatten SAMT öppna båda skjutdörrarna! Baren Haliflor.

I thought that Germany wouldn't have anything to offer after all the amusing bathrooms in England and Wales, but I have to share this hygienic construction!! Your hands are free, since you  push a pedal to flush the toilet, operate the tap AND open both sliding doors! The Haliflor bar.

Schiebetür! Woof!

We love this more than words can express.

Woof!

There is only one word that covers this, and that word is WOW!! with two exclamation marks.

Happy pedalling in Berlin!

That's about all we have energy for right now; we require urgent contact with the floor, and maybe some cheese.

Today's Festive Video is neither festive nor a video, but it does contain a large dose of, as our students would no doubt say, BADASS. Our friend Rebecca Nice was sexually harassed by her tutor at university. Sexual harassment is more common than most people realise. The reason we don't usually hear about it is because victims are often too scared to talk about what has happened, and because employers are inclined to protect offenders. It's funny, for instance, how often an employer will claim to take sexual harassment seriously, and to have a zero-tolerance policy towards it, yet not conduct any proper investigations when a complaint is made.
Rebecca, however, has refused to be silent, and speaks up on Radio 5: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b07y68xz

You can read more about Rebecca Nice and her sexual harassment case at the Guardian: https://www.theguardian.com/society/2016/oct/07/abuse-at-university-case-study.