On Machiavelli, Venereal Disease, and Cat-Sitting

It is when you find yourself reading Machiavelli, genuinely hoping to pick up some advice on how to sort out your life, that you realise there is no progression happening anymore - you have already gone to hell in a handcart.

Leaving aside, however, the existential aspects of reading Machiavelli, here are the main tips we have picked up from this Renaissance mover and shaker:

1. Don't ever let your soldiers put their loot in a bank, or bury it. Make sure they spend everything they've got, so that they will always be hungry for more fighting.

2. Don't ever build a fortress on high ground, as this is easier to mine, and thus break into. Build your fortress on a plain, and dig wells, to channel the blast from any mines placed under your walls.

3. Don't be changeable, frivolous, effeminate, cowardly, or irresolute.

4. When invading a country, remember that a state with one strong ruler (like for instance Turkey) will be harder to take, but easier to hold. In contrast, a country with a weak ruler and many regional lords (think France) will be easier to take (there will always be a discontented baron who can be bribed), but harder to hold (you then have to put all the barons in their place and make sure they don't betray you in turn).

5. Don't let the children of your dead enemies live, out of misguided mercy. They will inevitably try to kill you in ten or twenty years' time. Off with their heads!

6. It is better to be feared than to be loved. At least if your aim in life is to rule a Renaissance-era city-state, or equivalent. (Machiavelli is firm on this point. Fear, not love.)

Machiavelli offers no advice on how to deal with syphilis, which is odd, considering this is a disease that plagued all strata of society in the 16th century, not excluding, of course, the Vatican. If we may offer you our personal advice in this area, it is this: Syphilis isn't that bad these days, but, whatever you do, don't catch gonorrhoea.

Moving on to more toilet-related concerns, we asked Meandering Friend if she still had the video of the famous disco toilet of Stavanger. However, it turned out she had only recently deleted it from her phone, in order to free up space! This is a tragedy of Titanic proportions, but never fear! We will simply have to conduct a field trip to Stavanger to drink beer and go to the toilet - let us know if you're keen to accompany us.

Meandering Friend writes:

Här kommer ett random toafoto istället från min nuvarande position som kattvakt i Lund (kanske kan göra nåt av det bloggmässigt? )

1. Smart konstruktion gjord av billigt-flygbolagstejp och toarulle för att alltid, när en inte är där, hålla toadörren öppen (#ingenjörskonst)... 

(Here is a random toilet photo instead, from my current position as catsitter in Lund (perhaps you can make something of it, blog-wise?) 

1. Smart construction made of cheap-airline tape and an empty toilet roll in order to always, when one isn't there, hold the toilet door open (#EngineerArt)...)

2. Gå på toa med en fyrbent kompis? (#neverwalkalone)

(Go to the loo with a four-legged friend? (#neverwalkalone))

Meandering Friend adds that there may be a film clip from a random waste disposal centre in Norway coming, if she can find a way of sending it via her phone.

We are not naturally of a Machiavellian bent at the Privy Counsel (except of course when people hang the toilet roll the wrong way round - there is no limit to how long we can carry on a toilet roll feud). Sometimes one needs to remind oneself that it's ok to stop trying so damn hard, and just drink some beer.

(Unless of course you are running a Renaissance-era city-state (or equivalent). All the bodily idioms apply here - you need to be on your toes, looking over your shoulder, keeping a firm grasp on your accountants, and steering everything with a steady hand. No beer for you!)

Festive Video - Billy Currington, Pretty Good at Drinking Beer

Related Reading

Ok, so actually, we sometimes get paranoid and say things like "the enemy is mobilising", which is fairly Machiavellian.

Previous posts featuring Meandering Friend:

A Picture of Johnny Not Holding a Fruit Pie

Disco Fever in Stavanger

Our favourite cat blog is still, by the way, Catstrophil. It has many pictures of cats.

Don't forget that there is a right way and a wrong way to hang toilet roll.

Remember that time when we visited a sewage treatment plant and managed to philosophise, while there, on how to avoid catching syphilis?

Partygoing Undergrads Must Die!, or, Dear Santa, I Want a Sexist Pulverizer

The inexorable juggernaut of Christmas draws ever closer. Today, all reputable news outlets assure us, is the second of Advent. We are, to be honest, not greatly in favour of Christmas at the Privy Counsel, what with our headquarters being already overflowing with paraphernalia, trinkets, and nuts. Also we find religion a creepy concept, though we don't have a problem with the more pagan aspects of Christmas, like unrestrained gluttony, and drinking.

We have received lots of fan mail over the past year, but due to our frantic procrastination, drinking, and - believe it or not - occasional engagement in actual work, we have not been able to display all the missives we have received. Consequently, all correspondence has been shoved into the Privy Counsel archive which, as all regular readers know, is a dark and dreary place, spookily reminiscent of a crypt out of The Monk, and containing mentally unhinged pheasants. (Or are they actually peasants? Nobody has ever dared stay long enough to check properly.)

However, in consequence of us remarking, last Sunday, that the Privy Counsel is "rather more fragrant and attractively lit than usual, being resplendent with various lights and varieties of pine needles", an attentive reader wrote to us to ask,

How fragrant, exactly? 

What a good question! Unfortunately we cannot convey to you the scent of pine needles and gingerbread currently permeating our headquarters, but let us at least demonstrate what said pine needles look like.

A nauseatingly decorative and cosiness-inducing arrangement

Another missive reads:

Dear Privy Counsellor,

This morning I had a rather unsettling experience. In the ladies' room, in the stall next to me, a mobile phone went off - and then it was answered! They had an entire conversation, including the information that the woman was on the toilet! Is this proper bathroom etiquette - answering the phone mid-pee? Said woman also left without washing her hands, so I'm inclined to think all her behaviour a bit suspect, and I'd like your opinion to make sure I'm not being prejudiced!

Thanks,

Don't Flush While Dialling

Dear Don't Flush While Dialling, our response is to note that perhaps religion has a useful function after all. Observing that theocratic societies often implement  punishments like the cutting off of body parts corresponding to the crime committed, we think that perhaps lopping off the hands of people who don't wash them after going to the toilet would be a suitable consequence of that atrocity.

The first known law code advocating retributive justice is that of Hammurabi, written around 1754 BC. Funny, how often this dude has cropped up in our correspondence lately.

Another missive reads,

Dear Privy Counsellors,

When my family takes road trips, my parents don't like to stop much. If we get out to go to the bathroom it takes too much time. Mom, my sister and I carry old mayonnaise jars to pee in while we drive. This was always a bit awkward, until the Counsellors told me about shewees! Now I can totally aim into my mayo jar! And our car smells a lot better, too! Please let me know the best way to get old wee smells out of an old car. I turn 16 soon and Mom says I can have our old pre-Shewee station waggon!

[heart symbol], Teenybopper Shewee Fan

Suspecting that we know who this message is from, we contacted a fellow counsellor, who confirmed that,

[A certain man] was a total dick and would not let them out of the car on road trips [...] He was an asshole of the first order [...] Of course, she went all Southern Republican, so in the end maybe they deserved one another [...]That was a classic case of "if you marry for money you earn every penny". I don't even know HOW you'd pee in a mayo jar. In a moving vehicle.

We don't, either, and we hope we never find out.

This shit literally has to be seen to be believed.

A third epistle is more philosophical/political in nature, and leads us towards our Festive Video.

Dear [Privy Counsellor], 

Today's theme is Partygoing Undergrads Must Die! I was wringing out my hair after a shower when a gaggle of girls getting ready for a night out came barrelling in, which was, well, loud and obnoxious, but survivable - I was young once too! It was when I heard one say, "Oh my god, is my eyeliner right? I just have to have the right eyeliner to even have a hope of looking acceptable!"*  

Now, I'm sure it was hyperbole, and you know I love me some eyeliner, but it just hit every feminist fibre of my being and I wanted to run out and start shrieking, even as my own eyeliner was running down my face (waterproof my ass**).  Thank gods I'm not 21 anymore...but I do wonder who they'll grow up to be, and what sort of lessons they'll impart to future girls. On the up side, you'll approve of the fact that the public library [in Edinburgh] has one of Caitlin Moran's books displayed for their book club!

*may we dare suggest that the girl in question didn't actually express herself in those exact words, but that our correspondent's extensive and Austenesque literary habits coloured this sentence? But no matter.

**Hear, hear.

We believe it was Helen Fielding who coined the term "Alice Cooper eyes". This is what happens when one's eyeliner fraudulently purports to be waterproof, but isn't. Image from caratulas.

In possibly related news, we suspect there may be a Counsel-wide outbreak of tertiary syphilis. We haven't noticed anyone displaying the symptoms of either primary or secondary syphilis (the one Privy Counsel member - who shall remain anonymous - who did suffer from a sudden onset of distressing symptoms turned out to have herpes [incidentally, the internet informs us that, in order to avoid spreading herpes to others, it is important to wash your hands after going to the bog], not syphilis), but it seems the indications of tertiary syphilis are widespread. Symptoms include:

Fatigue; headaches; insomnia; dizziness; social inhibitions; asocial behaviour; gradual impairment of judgement, concentration and short-term memory; euphoria; mania; depression; apathy; and delusions of grandeur.

We don't know about you, baby, but we tick every single one of those boxes. Better get on with the Festive Video.

Festive Video - The Doubleclicks, Sexist Bullshit (Christmas Song)

All parts of this song's lyrics are awesome: check them out.

Related Reading
All posts featuring advent
All posts featuring epistolary action
All posts featuring handwashing
All posts featuring shewees
All posts featuring poor aim
All posts featuring Caitlin Moran

In Anticipation of a Royal Flush

You'd be surprised by how many postcards we receive at the Privy Counsel. When it comes to the more vulgar kinds of material possessions, we don't have much to hang on the Christmas tree, as the Swedes so charmingly put it, but in terms of postcards, we possess a fortune. An actual fortune! Kick-Arse Suffragette Friend sent us one just recently, of the historical-slash-salacious kind; a picture of a rampantly attractive Dakota Sioux by the name of Kicks Iron. We do enjoy our historical heroes and heroines at the Counsel!

Kicks Iron, a Dakota Sioux.
Photograph by Frank B. Fiske, ca 1905.

Then of course there's all the postcards from random weirdoes readers that clog up our postbox to the point where the postman is giving us dirty looks arrive with charming regularity.

This postcard, from a correspondent at Castle Howard, says:

To: The Privy Counsel

The Queen will be visiting the estate next month, and the lady of the house has asked me to contact you for some advice. (The household etiquette books were recently lost in a freak plumbing accident.) 

How is one to lay out the bathroom for a royal visit?  

How is one to offer the facilities to Her Majesty?  

Can one find loo roll that is superior to two-ply?  

And is it considered indiscreet, following the visit, to install a small plaque to state "the Queen peed here" for future generations to admire? 

Your discretion regarding the matter is appreciated.  

From: Private Secretary to Lady [name illegible - these aristos frequently suffer from hereditary syphilis, making their nervous systems unreliable and their pen-wielding limbs prone to tremors]

First of all, let us assure all our readers of our utter and complete discretion.

HEY EVERYONE! THE QUEEN IS COMING TO USE THE BOGS AT CASTLE HOWARD!

When it comes to laying out the loos for a royal visit, our experience is that ordinary cleanliness goes a long way. Scrub the bathroom thoroughly using eco-friendly products (stay clear of  bleach - you don't want the Queen getting her outfit stained then sniffing disapprovingly throughout her visit). Make sure the towels are clean, but don't use fabric softeners (apart from softeners being environmentally hostile, exaggerated softness causes bits of fluff to stick to one's skin which is annoying as hell). Avoid vulgar ornaments.

Googling the words "Which toilet roll does the Queen use" yields a surprisingly rich vein of internet lunacy. The least crazy comment on this subject that we encountered was "I think Andrex holds the royal warrant which would suggest that is the brand of choice for the royal bum". Then again, once the Queen is seated on your throne - belt off, trousers down - she doesn't have much of a choice, does she? We suggest you go for the most ecological alternative you can find. (Read one of our rants about toilet roll and ecological destruction here. Here's another one.) Also, of course, make sure you hang the toilet paper the right way round!

Regarding the royal visit toilet plaque, there are two schools of thought. The first, classic, school goes, "this is an unbearably vulgar and horrid practice and must cease immediately". Was it Josephine Tey who pointed out that if one is to believe all the stories of Tudor houses visited by Queen Elizabeth I, she must have made sleeping in other people's beds quite the hobby? (Then again, Tudor courts did travel more or less constantly. Maybe we should ask Tudor Friend to write us a guest blog post about this?) There is not, as far as we know, an outspoken tradition of putting up plaques commemorating royal toilet visits (though there is a rather festive anecdote about Henry VIII and a toilet in York), and so we suspect that the advice regarding them exists as a kind of sub-genre to the "Queen Bess slept here"-type plaques.
The second, more modern, school goes "take every opportunity of making your toilet a joyous, festive place - fucking go for it, babe!" We're rather inclined towards the more modern school of thought.

This is today's festive video, because it is simply a splendid song. The title does not correlate in any way to our current mental state, long-term memory, or employment prospects.

Festive video - Bruce Springsteen, I'm goin' down

Related Reading
Our last delightful postcard: Sober As a Judge
Our first ever postcard: We Receive a Postcard
This post is not the first, nor is it, we fear, the last, time we have made a cunning pun on the poker term "royal flush". German Friend was the first to make use of this delightful witticism: Royal Flush
How to choose an eco-friendly toilet roll (WWF)
A Thought-Provoking Blog About Cholera in Haiti

Sober As a Judge

This post is going to be all about retrospection. There's been a lot of reminiscence going on recently - a trip to York, where we misspent a portion of our youth; historical toilet-related ponderings; and happening upon some stuff we wrote years ago and which caused us to laugh heartily at long-forgotten memories of rickshaw-wallahs, goats, and Tiny Friendly Ladies.

The historical toilet-related ponderings were occasioned by a postcard we received at Privy Counsel HQ. It contained an appeal for enlightenment! We were, obviously, flattered to be appealed to as a source of wisdom and knowledge. We're highly susceptible to flattery, and prone, when exposed to it, to go off on a long, rambling tangent. Don't say you weren't warned:

We love beautifully written cards!

Dear Privy Counsellor, 

As a frequent traveller, I've come across many, many public toilets but I continue to be disturbed by those which charge a fee for use. I understand that this helps with maintenance but I find it galling to have to pay for a service which is unavoidable in any socially acceptable manner. One cannot just choose to not have to "go". The fact that these bathrooms charge via a correct-change-only system, without any was to make or receive change, is an additional problem. Also, when one needs the loo desperately, one does not always have time to search about for coins or fiddle around with barriers. Does the learned counsellor have an opinion on this issue? Are there any movements afoot to make toilets an uncharged right for all? 

Pissed-Off Traveller

We were thrilled to recieve this glorious picture of Cliffords Tower, in York!

Woof! Where to start? One is tempted, in these instances, to begin with historical precedence. Why not start in the Middle Ages? 

Having reached that comfortable eminence where one can quote oneself without embarrassment, we are going to scatter modesty to the winds, and ponder these singularly well-written words, from our post The Historic Toilet Tour of York:

During the Middle Ages, it was fairly common to stipulate the building of a public privy in your will. Thus, people could sit, shit and pray for your immortal soul. With the Reformation, however, this laudable practice was flushed away, and it wasn't till the 19th century that public lavatories started becoming common again - for men, that is. The assumption was that respectable women didn't roam the streets anyway, and so had no need for public toilets. Also, fashions dictating large skirts may have made it possible for women to do their business without anybody noticing.

We're not usually in favour of historical regression, but surely the kind of mindset where the institution of public toilets is considered a charitable, admirable act is laudable? (Though we advise against the building of toilets on bridges, jutting out over the water, medieval-style.) Maybe if more people were to leave money to the founding of public toilets in their wills, the world would be a better place.

One can also pause here, for a moment, to relish one's rampant dislike of the Victorians, that colonialist, misogynist pack of antimacassar-crocheters and wall-to-wall-carpet-obsessives. As usual, one can blame everything on them. They couldn't even handle the thought of women going to the toilet without fetishising it and turning it into a social problem. 

(If you want, by the way, tips on Victorian crinolines, and specifically how to turn a skirt spread over one into a private, one-woman discreet-urination-tent, then ask Tudor Friend. That woman possesses some serious life skills!)

To dwell briefly on the Victorian era and its penchant for making a profit from people's bodily functions, let us ponder, again, that splendid entrepreneur and chancer, Mathias Weibull. To once more quote ourselves:

[In 1889, Weibull wrote to] Malmö City Council to seek permission to erect "simple but neat" "cleanliness kiosks", provided with "self-operating peat-dust machines". Mathias Weibull expressed concern with the dangerous evaporations of human waste products, and the epidemics they may give rise to if left untended. Weibull generously offered to arrange for the carting away of the waste and the peat, and explained that he intended to charge the public 5 öre for use of the peat closets, and 2 öre for the pissoirs. The author even got the professor we love to hate, Seved Ribbing (his opinions on peat toilets may be sound, but his views on syphilitic women were shocking), to write an endorsement of the hygienic suitability of the plan!

Basically, this dude wanted to induce people to pay for the privilege of producing manure for his farm. You can't help but admire his cheek!

Nor is the habit of charging money for public toilets limited to Europe; we spent a rupee to spend a penny on one memorable occasion in Bangalore. A useful tip, which we're giving away free, is to never, ever use the toilet marked "Western toilet" when in India. These loos are invariably filthy - using the ordinary squat toilet is infinitely more hygienic and enjoyable!

One final observation: When meeting up with Shewee Fiend Friend recently, we made the journey to our rendezvous by train, and found ourselves obliged to use a train station toilet in the Midlands. Exactly as described in the postcard above, we didn't have exact change, and were thus robbed of 20 p. Small change, perhaps, but an important moral and legal principle. However. We learned something!

A teenage girl, entering the stile before us, showed her friend how to avoid having to pay: you pull the stile gently towards you. The locking mechanism will then be released, and you can comfortably push the stile forward and enter the toilets without spending a single penny. Provided that there is no attendant of course - we wouldn't want our readers to get caught in criminal activities! (Speaking of attendants, read about our favourite toilet attendants ever here and here.)

We hope that answers your query, Pissed-Off Traveller!

Now. This post is FAR FROM OVER. You can all sit prettily down again, and continue paying attention.

Our rendezvous with Shewee Fiend Friend took place in what was, in the carefree days of our youth, our favourite pub - The Judge's Lodging! Many is the evening we have spent here, quaffing beer until the Gothic grammar, with which we chose to occupy our minds in those days, made sense! (It usually takes a couple of pints at least. Needless to say, it's when Matthew starts waxing lyrical on the subject of fornication that he finally becomes lucid.)
We posted a couple of pictures from this notorious academic-infested drinking hole recently, and were promptly informed, via social media, that the toilets have been redone and look pretty damn splendid these days. (Indeed, the whole pub has had a makeover.) We set out to investigate. Here's what we found:

Pretty damn fine!

We apologise for the blurriness of this picture - we can't even give drunkenness
as an excuse, for reasons we will explain below. Does this black cast-iron heater
remind us of something, however? You bet it does - check out this heater in Worcester Cathedral!

There's certainly plenty of bog roll!

These tiles are very attractive.

THIS IS WHERE THE COAT-HOOK SHOULD HAVE BEEN.
YES, THAT'S RIGHT. THERE WAS NO GODDAMN COAT-HOOK.

Also, the toilet-roll holder would have benefited from having an actual toilet roll in it.

These sinks are beautiful, and no mistake! Woof!

Mixer taps are a balm to the soul.

This beauty is a Doulton's Improved Foot Warmer when it's at home.
Remember that time when we went on a Doulton rampage?
And that other time, when we also went on a Doulton rampage?

All in all, we were very pleased with the new toilets in the Judge's Lodging! They were clean and beautiful, and the sinks were a joy to wash one's hands in! Though of course WE FIND THE LACK OF A COAT-HOOK A SERIOUS OMISSION. However, THE GLARING LACK OF A COAT-HOOK TO HANG ONE'S BAG FROM was our only complaint. Three cheers and a roaring huzzah for the Judge's Lodging toilets! Also the staff were very nice and helpful.

Due to a medical emergency, Shewee Fiend Friend was unable to drink alcohol during our visit to York. Apparently, however, you can get beer that doesn't contain any alcohol.

Yeah, we know.

We don't understand the whys and the wherefores, either, but the fact remains that we were able to purchase said alcohol-free drinks in the supermarket, and park ourselves in the very warm and joy-inducing sunshine, in the soft grass, with our backs to the sturdy and protective Cliffords Tower! (Built to subdue the populace - on a sunny day, one likes to forget the cruel and bloody history behind picturesque erections.) Once again, however, we have to warn our readers not to engage in unlawful behaviour - it turns out that actually, sitting with one's back to Clifford's Tower while drinking beer, even if alcohol-free, is illegal. So don't do that! But take our word for it - it was HIGHLY ENJOYABLE.

Engaging in a very enjoyable illegal activity.

This, ladies and gentlemen, brings us full circle - back to Cliffords Tower, were we started our journey! Indeed, after being turfed off the tower knoll, we and Shewee Fiend Friend betook ourselves and our strange, alcohol-free beverage to the waterside, and ended up sitting in the exact spot that you can see in the postcard.

Let's have a festive video and get Saturday night going!

Festive video - Kitty, Daisy and Lewis, Going Up the Country

Related Reading
All posts about York
All posts about Shewee Fiend Friend
Our classic post on Mathias Weibull:
19th-Century Toilet Letter: A Delight from Start to Fin(n)ish!
Our classic post on the toilet history of York:
The Historic Toilet Tour of York
All posts about public toilets