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

Five Fabulous (And Frightening) Years: The Story of the Privy Counsel

Our sincerest contrafibularities! We have no memory of what we were doing on the day (ranting, no doubt, and perhaps drinking rum - possibly at the same time), but the Privy Counsel turned five on 18 October!

Five years! If we had had cake to celebrate with, it would most likely have looked like this.

Things have been grim of late. So grim, in fact, that we have repeatedly felt the need to google pictures of syphilis symptoms, just to remind ourselves that there are things we don't suffer from (although one Privy Counsel member does in fact harbour a case of bona fide genital herpes - however, we intend to stay true to our promise to keep the identity of this person a secret to our dying day (said promise does not, obviously, prevent us from dropping tantalising hints solely for our own amusement)). There are some good ones, for instance, here (do a page search for "syphilis", then click on the links).

The marvellous thing, though, about having access to a loose collective of intellectuals, connected by social media, is that something wonderful is bound to turn up sooner or later.

This cake would also not be incongruous at the Privy Counsel.

Last night, for instance, we learned that Kick-Arse Suffragette Friend has an exciting new project on the go.

Also Australian Friend surpassed herself in rampant intellectualism and invented a new word! Quizzlement - you heard it here first! The definition of the adjective is as follows: "Quizzled. adj. The state of perplexed beguilement imposed by a person on her admirer, through an act of mischievous ambiguity."

Then we suddenly remembered that BLOODY HELL WE HAVE BEEN GOING FOR FIVE YEARS. Let us tell you the story of the origins of the Privy Counsel!

This totally appropriate cake just screams "THIS ONE! YES! LET'S HAVE IT!"

Once upon a time, there was a country full of crap plumbing. Let's call it "Britain". Said crap plumbing was the cause of a pretty much constant stream of grumbling, mumbling, and outright ranting. One night, in the pub, Enlightened Friend suggested that we stop ranting and start a blog, if only to spare our friends from having to constantly listen to us moaning and bitching. We thought the notion was an excellent one, and set to enthusiastically, publishing no less than three posts on the first day.

The first post was called, bravely, Mixer Taps - the Controversy, and was short but loquacious. It said, simply:

Most British people see no need for mixer taps, as when they do exist, they don't work anyway. The rest of the world disagrees. The controversy continues.

Huzzah - our very first image!

Blog post number two, sporting the witty title Toilet Paper - Puppy Love (setting the tone for our happy habit of punning in an unrestrained manner), discussed the insane British obsession with quilted toilet paper. This groundbreaking essay posed the question:

Where does the British obsession with soft toilet paper come from? Why does bog roll have to be quilted? (Of all things, why quilted?) Is it due to the humiliations suffered during the Second World War, when millions of Britons were forced to keep a stiff upper lip while wiping their bottoms with newspaper?

FUCK OFF, PUPPIES.

The third blog post on this auspicious date, The Victorians - An Edifying History Lesson, described the Victorians as "a barbaric people who delighted in such unhygienic and downright dangerous practices as sideburn cultivation, wall-to-wall carpet installation, and lace-curtain twitching". Needless to say, this is now the standard view of the Victorians in all respectable academic circles.

Victorian toilets - pretty, but violently unsound.

After these initial - one could even say probing - posts, we moved swiftly on to reviews of museum toilets, starting with the Yorkshire Museum. We remember lurking nervously with the huge, clunky and LOUD camera we used to carry around in those days, on a wet October day. 

Mission accomplished without us being reported to the police or even, surprisingly, being openly accused of being perverts, we continued with the Castle Museum, where we spotted what is possibly the most amusing sign in the entire universe; a sign that perfectly summarises the unbridled lunacy of British plumbing:  

This sign unfortunately doesn't exist anymore.
Believe us, we have been back to check.

Pretty soon we were reviewing places like the disabled toilet at the Centre for Medieval Studies in York, and it didn't take long before we achieved legendary status among the depraved, the socially awkward, and the intellectual (i.e. our friends, and maybe five other people who clearly need to get off the internet and get a life).

We noted happily that this was "a toilet fit for Medievalists".

And now we've been at it for five years!

When we started this blog, it was specifically to rant about crap plumbing, because Privy Counsel HQ was situated in the UK, where people seem have a hard time realising that the 19th century like, ENDED. Now that we are more Scandiwegian-oriented, we have very little to complain about, plumbing-wise, and have taken to rant more about other things, like feminism. It appears that human rights is another area where people have a hard time realising that the 19th century ended and that we are, in fact, living in the 21st century now. It would be nice, we think, if everyone could at least step into the 20th century, both in terms of plumbing, and human rights.

We would like to take this opportunity of getting embarrassingly sentimental, weepy, and vapid, and expressing our heartfelt thanks to all our friends and comrades! Some of you have been with us from the start, some have joined along the way. Without the Privy Counsel Friends (and assorted cronies, hangers-on, and passive bystanders) sending us toilet photos, ranting with us, and dispatching emergency pictures of Elvis when times get tough, this bog blog really would not be possible.

Now, let's have a festive video before we embarrass ourselves further. We've had this one in a previous post, but really, can you ever get enough rum? Well, quite.

Festive video - Brothers Osborne, Rum

Hasta la vista!

Whether You Believe in Jebus Or Not: Unbelievably Rampant Linguistic Musings!

Heigh ho, another religious festival is upon us. We woke up this morning feeling like we'd been hit by a bus - the phrase "death warmed up" sprang to mind with alarming alacrity. Considering the symptoms, we decided that we were suffering from either a) tertiary syphilis, b) post-traumatic stress, or c) a vile hangover. Recalling yesterday's events, we then deduced that c) was the most likely cause of our malaise, though we haven't absolutely ruled out a) and b).

Be that as it may, we consider ourselves, as usual, blessed in having such helpful, intellectual friends. Intellectual Friend, especially, has been more than usually rampant in his intellectualism recently. Round about Christmas time, we made a remark about Jebus, a dude who, we understand, is frequently implicated in religious high days and holidays. This remark caused Intellectual Friend to go off on a philological rant of remarkable, almost alarming, intellectual pizzazz. We reproduce it here, with permission:

Enjoyed very much your report from that family church venture: many wholehearted blessings on your role models! [Editor's note: said indomitable role model would be granny who, with unwavering fortitude, insisted on complaining loudly about how boring the Christmas sermon was, ignoring all hints from relatives that the preacher was standing right behind her.] Also, this sparks two philological remarks. Firstly, I appreciate quite deeply those typically Germanic and (I think) especially Scandinavian verbal structures which effect some kind of messing about the intransitiveness of intransitive verbs, like "sjunga julen in". Another among many would perhaps be "to die into the mountain", cf. Eyrbyggja saga [editor's note: deyja í fjöll].

My second remark is about Jebus, a dude who indeed tends to be laboured on and on about in sermons and related contexts a tad more than warranted by the Christian mythology and tradition as a whole. This remark I think I shall now split into two sub-remarks. 

The first of these is that I wonder whether you were aware, when saying Jebus, that the implied derogativeness of such a name would actually reach very deep dark bottoms in a Polish context, if used, because 

1) the -us suffix can be used in Polish as a pseudo-Latin suffix which, when added to native words, is a bit like -ard in drunkard but tinged with fleeting connotations of the referent being a potential asshole, and 

2) because jeb- is a common Polish verbal root among the lower classes with the primary denotation "to fuck", and furthermore the root is otherwise mysteriously rare in other languages, although it can be shown to derive from Proto-Slavic *jebati with the same meaning, and a related proto-verb was an iterative ("to fuck repeatedly"?). Indeed the root is of very great antiquity while also evidencing remarkable semantic stability. A PIE [editor's note: Proto-Indo-European] root *yebh- can even be confidently posited, also referring to some kind of proto-fucking, since there are cognates in Sanskrit: yabhati "to fuck", also a reduplicated form yiyapsatiwhich was a desiderative ("to desire to fuck"??). 

The Polish etymological dictionary whence this word-wisdom mostly springs from also offers examples of late medieval personal names or nicknames Jebak, Jebyl and Jebur (the latter was euphemistically glossed by a later lexicographer as "keen towards women"), consolidating the hypothetical potential of a name Jebus in Polish for signifying "Fucker". An interesting coincidence, if coincidence it is, which I thought you might perhaps appreciate (and indeed you would be the only person I know who could appreciate its potential multivalence). 

My second sub-remark is that there certainly is a need to renew many of the pagan-derived Christian traditions and beliefs fallen into oblivion, and to talk more about the demons, monsters, Gandalf-like vs Balrog-like angels, etc. Regarding this I was pleased to hear the priest at the end of the Polish Yule mass embark on an elaborate and clearly archaic curse-like prayer for the flock to be shielded against the evil forces and the hosts of Satan and all the malicious sprites who hover around or lurk greedy to bind or devour the good souls, and may they be knocked down into the dark pits of hell, and so on. Also those maledictions, together with the festiveness of the also archaic carols, made up for the predictably boring over-sweet sermon.

On that note, let us have a look at the not-archaic-in-the-slightest toilets at Lund Cathedral. We have mentioned before the charitable determination of the good people of Lund Cathedral in providing visitors with facilities in which to achieve physical cleanliness, while simultaneously striving towards spiritual purity. Please excuse the sideways pictures - consider them a parable on love and forgiveness.

An angelic combination of physical and spiritual perfection!

Knock-knock-knockin' on Heaven's door.
The eggshell-blue colour denotes, probably, purity.

The twin coat-hooks symbolise, possibly, the duality of the good-evil dichotomy.

An exemplary door-handle, easy to operate with one's elbow.
Useful for lepers who have lost a hand or even an entire arm.

The pure white colour of these paper towels symbolises their virginity.

There are lots of weird Bible quotes, but this is a surprisingly normal one:

"Like cold water to a weary soul is good news from a distant land."
This excellent mixer tap, of course, allows one to choose between hot,
cold, or an almost infinite range of pleasant in-between temperatures.

Funnily enough, Semi-Intellectual Friend has been rampantly semi-intellectual lately, and alerted us to this useful advice from the Bible, which you may wish to contemplate:

13 And thou shalt have a paddle upon thy weapon; and it shall be, when thou wilt ease thyself abroad, thou shalt dig therewith, and shalt turn back and cover that which cometh from thee:
14 For the Lord thy God walketh in the midst of thy camp, to deliver thee, and to give up thine enemies before thee; therefore shall thy camp be holy: that he see no unclean thing in thee, and turn away from thee.

There. Next time you find yourself in need of a latrine trench, you don't have to hesitate, but can confidently get on with digging, safe in the knowledge that the good Lord is pottering around your camp, making sure that nobody's getting up to any naughty sodomy, incest, or shellfish consumption.

Happy Easter, ladies and gentlemen! There are more philological rants from Intellectual Friend coming soon!


Festive video - Homer Simpson, Save me, Jebus!

Related Reading
Last year's festive Easter post: Taps, Wine, and Elvis!
The festive Easter post from the year before that: Lighthearted Easter Musings
More festively intellectual posts about Lund:
Pure of Heart and Hand: Lund Cathedral
Lund University Library: Festschrift to Intellectual Friend
More quotes from Eyrbyggja saga, possibly our favourite toilet-related saga:
World Toilet Day 2011: Taking Our Baths and Our Women

Danger, Danger: Medieval Toilets
Crucial information for the biblically inclined toilet enthusiast: Toilet History Meets Biblical History (thanks to Semi-Intellectual Friend for sending us this interesting article!)
If you crave more Polish philology, these learned lectures from Intellectual Friend are also available:
Dirty Toilets and Dirtier Minds - A Nautical Theme

More Polish Plumbing: Pierogarnia Stary Toruń
If you really can't get enough, there's also this charming and fascinating Finno-Ugric suffix of negation: Finnish Mania: Despite Negligence, We Forgive Intellectual Friend

Festive Things That Are Red

The colour of the revolution is red. Red is also the colour, we've been told, of other useful things like love, ketchup, and British post boxes. And, what's more, we found a brilliant Danish toilet, decked out in the most rampantly red colour imaginable! This is, if memory serves and the Danish beer didn't blitz all our brain cells to smithereens, at the Maritime Museum of Denmark. The maritime museum is a very festive place with, as we may have mentioned, all kinds of exhibits. Some of the exhibits are about syphilis. The museum is also helpfully located right next to Kronborg Castle, so you can indulge in musings on Hamlet and syphilis at the same time! (Danes never cease to amaze us with their ingenuity!) Woof!

Are you salivating? We are!

Phwoarrrrr, coat-hooks!

The sink inside the stall: mixer taps, naturally.

What an excellent, excellent set-up!

This is the bin outside, by the communal sinks

WOOF!
Check out the crazy aesthetically-pleasing-yet-functional design of this sink!
Those Danes surely know how to make a girl's heart beat faster!

Ooooh!

Other things that are red:

This Captain Morgan exhibit, at the maritime museum.

Our friend's creepy clown nose.

The lift in The Shining.
Image from http://25.media.tumblr.com

Red, red wine.

Related Reading
A festive maritime-themed toilet:
Put Him in a Longboat Till He's Sober: Sail-loo-rrr Lingo with German Friend!
Other toilets with funky colours:
Snyrt, Snyrt: Landnámssýningin
Maximum Toilet Satisfaction
We Go Underground
A toilet with a totally non-funky colour:
Passing Through the Loos at Kalamazoo

Put Him in a Longboat Till He's Sober: Sail-loo-rrr Lingo with German Friend!

As regular readers are aware, we have a hoard. A hoard not of dragon gold, but of fabulous toilet pictures from German Friend. We go round thinking about posting more of them pretty much constantly (that is, during any time we can spare from thinking about cholera, syphilis, and Richard Armitage), but somehow we don't very often get around to it, most likely due to laziness or, if we're engaging in self-deception and ascribing ourselves more flattering motives for our actions, a selfish desire to hoard the German-Friend-pictures, hugging them close to us and never, ever letting them go.

Be that as it may, we received a message from German Friend the other day. "With so much Armitagery," it read, "is there still space in your heart and head for new loos?" We told German Friend to not be a silly chumps! Armitagery or no Armitagery, there is ALWAYS space for new loos at the Privy Counsel!

So, all aboard - here's German Friend's rampantly festive notes on his latest find!

Have you found syphilis yet? [Editor's note: Yes, it really did begin like this. We do love our friends!] Loved your cholera babes (not literally or physically). [Editor's note: the Cholera Babes are coming to the Counsel soon - all will be explained!]
All aboard here, ahoi and all that shanty.
Nipped back home to Hamburg last weekend and did some home-tourism, found this in a nice, nautical-themed hotel, the submarine-style toilets were, fittingly, in the basement. The gender signs read "beards" and "broads".
As garnish, here is some Sail-loo-r lingo:
Ahoi, all rolls on deck.
Turd over board!
Abandon shit or stem the tide!
So.
There :)

It DOES look like the inside of a submarine!

No idea what's going on here, but it looks surprisingly hygienic.

Are those flowers? Or some kind of fungal growth?

What the hell?

Because a man without a beard isn't really a man.

Broads ahoy!

We should maybe add that last time we met up with German Friend we had a very jolly time, and festive, nautically-inspired rum was in no way not on the agenda.

You'll also be delighted to learn that we have, after scouring the seven seas, found a festive video, for your delight and edification! We have no idea what's going on - three accordion-wielding peasants in knee-socks thrash about while performing a sea-shanty - but the festiveness levels are through the roof!

Festive video: Rapalje, Drunken sailor

Related Reading

Why going aboard (so to speak) a submarine may be a dangerous business:

Who Knew That Going to the Toilet Could Be So Dangerous?

Intellectual Friend investigating Polish feminine endings and vocative cases in a maritime setting:

Dirty Toilets and Dirtier Minds - A Nautical Theme

Australian Friend's foray into the world of nautically themed toilets:

HTFU - A Journey through an Australian Dunny
Another email we received with a forceful, festive intro:
We Go Underground

We philosophise on why our friends spend so much time and effort sending us shit:
Rumours, a Teaser, and More Epistolary Action (With Useful Facts about Everyone's Favourite Toilet Country)
All previous posts from German Friend:
German Friend

Syphilis, Bathing, and Dentures. You Know It Makes Sense.

We have written before about Lucy Worsley, a British curator and historian, and her bathroom-related tv programme. Recently we happened, for reasons perhaps best left undisclosed, to be doing some research on syphilis, and found some rather fascinating information on this topic by the same Lucy Worsley. We believe we may also have mentioned the decline of bathing in post-medieval Europe on a previous occasion. Or perhaps not. Either way, here's what Worsley has to say on the subject:

"People often use the word 'medieval' to mean something horrible and dirty, but those at the top of medieval society actually kept their bodies very clean. Medieval London contained numerous communal, mixed-sex bathhouses, with single tubs and communal tubs, steam baths and herbal potions. You could spend the whole day and even have a meal, like a modern spa.
Around 1500, though, bathing entered upon two hundred years - the 'dirty centuries' - of decline and neglect. This was partly because many bathhouses had become brothels, and partly because of fears that water spread illness, especially the new and frightening Tudor affliction of syphilis. People were concerned that polluted bath water might penetrate their skin."
(From the BBC website)

Water and syphilis: a dangerous combination. Image from CBC

Worsley further says, of doing an experiment involving a week of Tudor hygiene:

"Denied the use of my bathroom, I ended up washing my face in the kitchen, and I discovered just how people managed without baths. It was actually very convenient, being able to wash in any room of the house, and I can see the advantage of having your maid bring an empty chamberpot to your bedroom and to take it away when full. Why would you want to walk to the loo when the loo could come to you? No one would see you en route to the bathroom, and you’d never have to queue. I began to appreciate why, even though Queen Elizabeth I had a flushing toilet (the technology was known) it didn’t catch on until the nineteenth century."
(From the Lucy Worsley blog.)

 Well, quite. Believe us, if we could persuade someone to empty chamber pots for us, we'd get one before you could say "empty your own goddamn chamber pot"!

We can't get enough of these little critters, from Giant Microbes!

The thrills don't end there: we even found a not-as-spurious-as-you'd-think connection between dental hygiene and our favourite disease, syphilis! Read all about it on Lucy Worsley's blog.

If you find yourself craving more information on the fascinating topic of syphilis, you can get some at this fun and informative website, called Disease of the Week!

Related reading
The History of Plumbing in the British Isles
The Post in Which We Finally Manage to Combine Our Two Favourite Topics Ever, Toilets and Syphilis!

Dirty Toilets and Dirtier Minds - A Nautical Theme

Intellectual Friend has, yet again, offered us a high-quality contribution. We frankly don't know what we would do without such a knowledgeable acquaintance - is there any topic this cerebral giant is not an expert on? Turns out naughty sailors' hygiene facilities are one of our expert's many favourite topics. (We've got more information on that lavoir as well, but frankly the depth of information left us exhausted and incapable of anything more strenuous than posting dirty pictures.)

Faced with such a staggering number of baffling photos, we at first meant to perform some kind of cull, in the interests of decency and intelligbility, but our mind was, frankly, boggled, and we were left incapacitated (spot a theme, anyone?). So here are all the pictures.

(Due to the peculiarities of Intellectual Friend's intellectual-but-not-very-practically-minded phone, or perhaps, dare we suggest, due to alcohol consumption, the photos are somewhat vertically challenged.)

Intellectual Friend says:

This is a place in Toruń, Poland, one risks ending up in when all pubs are packed with carousing Torunians on Christmas nights (yes, this is a stale, over 6 month old toilet report!). It's a spacious, fancy, locally renowned yet rather soulless, over-loud and wholly un-Christmassy bar. Despite a vaguely suggestive name - Lizard King - there are no dragons about; one surmises it's just some nerdy underground musical reference or whatever.

Nonetheless, it sports an armoured submarine bathroom, with bolts and portholes and metal and all! Which doesn't preclude the usual political and anatomical wall messages (here largely overlapping categories): one spots, for instance, the prominent word dupa ("arse") with its classic feminine ending in -a, or an address to Mr Tusk, the PM, metaphorically accused of being a highly disreputable woman via the equally feminine word kurwo whose ending -o indicates the vocative case.

However, for those less linguistically-minded, almost all the available walls also display eye-catching above-average toilet wall art. One would have liked to know what the ladies' bathroom had to offer in that respect, but due to the lack of female volunteer photographers in our party, one knows it not.

Lizard King

 ul. Kopernika 3 

87-100 Toruń

Poland

Many thanks for this informative contribution, Intellectual Friend. The toilets look clean, too, if not in a spiritual sense.

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