Toeing No Lines Whatsoever - Rather, Really Letting Ourselves Go

After being exposed to some gentle ribbing, in our last post, on the subject of her atrocious taste in music, Shewee Fiend Friend had many things to say. To refresh our possibly collective memory, here's what we said:

Since Rampant Rat-Hunting Friend absolutely will not approve of any music we might choose, ever - being, on this point, as rabid as Shewee Fiend Friend - it is utterly irrelevant which Festive Video we choose for this post.

Also, we know for a fact that this blog is read by a total of seven people, one of whom is Our Mum, and none of whom ever watch the Festive Videos. Thus it matters not one jot whether we also link to this version of this Festive Video, and also this fantastic version.

The things Shewee Fiend Friend had to say in response were, in chronological order:

Just to spite you I listened to the first twenty seconds of the second version of that festive video

It was interesting to watch the spandex aerobics dancers until the singing started, then I couldn’t take it anymore

But I’m really glad to hear I’m not the only one who lets you know your taste in music is abysmal

Really just abysmal

[...]

Also I’ve just watched the third version of that video

Well I listened to around twenty seconds again. I had forgotten how bad it was so I had to turn it off pretty soon

It was also awful

Where do you even find these things? How have you heard of this terrible person

 These are interesting questions which will, we are certain, spark further research and lead to many fruitful debates!

Jonny, meanwhile, has been devastatingly handsome in several toilets. Let's go through them systematically, in a scientific fashion.

 

Jonny writes:

Went into the office today and I was the only one there

Which is a shame because I look really fit today

Here's a pic of me by our unisex toilets

(We have 3 men's and 1 unisex)

 Indeed, why should the women have their own toilet? It's not like they're people. However that may be, however, we absolutely agree that Jonny looks fit in front of this unisex toilet, and congratulate his employer on hiring such a dishy toilet enthusiast!

 

Jonny: Dishier than ever, in front of a unisex toilet.

The following photos arrived without any comments, which is a fantastic chance, we believe, to let our creative juices really flow, imagining where they might be from and what might have happened in these toilets to result in such clear signage. We encourage our readers to let go of all restraints and embrace some really fervent speculation.

 

Really let yourself go, now.

 

A tantalising door!

If a picture says more than a thousand words, here we have the equivalent of a bestselling mystery trilogy, popular in airports the world over.

A note of caution to sensitive readers: the following picture is highly suggestive and might make impressionable individuals over-excited. Be very, very careful.

Careful, now!

Finally, is this the fainting couch to end all fainting couches? Does one feel the urge to lie down sensuously, while sipping a gin-enriched glass of champagne and feeling really fabulous? Reader, one does.

Since we have established that it is irrelevant which Festive Video we choose, here is a random one that we have put no thought into whatsoever.

 

Festive Video: Sam Outlaw, Jesus Take the Wheel (And Drive Me to a Bar)

 

Related Reading

Shewee Fiend Friend 

Jonny

Spanish Missteps, Also Other Missteps

Sex Matters

Fair Play for Women 

Filia

Halloween Horror 2022: Can You Believe Your Lyon Eyes?

What can one say, about a city that has not one but two Roman amphitheatres, except that it clearly knows what it is doing? It turns out that Lyon is highly competent when it comes to Roman remains. On the subject of rivers, also, the city displays an almost disdainful proficiency, not settling for just the one river but insisting on two.

One area where the former Roman colony of Lugdunum shows simply breathtaking incompetence, however, is public toilets. We managed to find two, having possibly identified a penchant on the part of the city for pairs, but one of them was so appalling that we have decided to categorise it as a rampant Halloween horror. (The other one was also appalling, but not at a "rampant Halloween horror" level. We didn't even bother taking photos of that one.)

If one should peradventure google the phrase "public toilets Lyon", one finds useful advice from helpful people. One guide to the city's pubic conveniences claims that there is a "Turkish" public toilet by the Place Sathonay. Being rather a fan of the allaturca toilet, we ventured forth to explore this delight, and were not disappointed. This Sanitaire Public does indeed exist in the place stated.

Reader, we went here, so you don't have to.

A picture says more than a thousand words. This one says: "Stay away."

Having once come across some excellent public toilets in the southern French city of Sète, however, we remain hopeful that producing proper public toilets is within the zone of proximal development of Lyon. After all, there has been a city here for two thousand years, and presumably, if its learning curve continues rising, maybe one day the city will be as proficient at public conveniences as it is at small charming bistros in picturesque side streets. Like this one, known to its friends as Les Belles Volailles, in the Rue Cuvier.

A reassuring richness of a) toilet roll and b) coat-hooks.

A somewhat surprising aspect of the toilet of a French bistro.

Jonny has been to what we understand was a horror-themed birthday party.

Terrifying.

Mmm, that's better.

This febrile display of candles could be romantic, or creepy, depending on one's predilections. Either way, there appears to be a fainting chair.

Today's Festive Video is about the approaching winter and impending doom. Incidentally, it causes us a certain feeling of déja vu, to use a French expression.

Now, if you'll excuse us, we've got an urgent appointment with an excellent bar called Les Fleurs du Malt.

Festive Video: Margo Cilker, That River

Related Reading

All posts featuring Jonny 

All posts featuring France

All posts featuring Halloween

All posts featuring fainting couches

All of the allaturca toilets we have ever had the joy of coming across.

That time when we reflected on art, in a semi-existentialist, rather French, manner: What A Thing Is and What It Is Not Are Identical In Form. Or So We've Been Told.

That time when we experienced winter, and impending doom, on a Canadian prairie: The Girl Bartenders Hate

Onward, Kristianstad's Older Citizenry

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

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

Posh hotel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

Today's Festive Video is about not being broken.

 

Festive Video - Ross Cooper, I Rode the Wild Horses

Related Reading

All posts featuring Jonny

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

All posts featuring fainting couches

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

Crash! Boom! Banff! Are We All Stuck in a Giant Simulation?

Are we all stuck in a giant simulation? If we are to believe someone like David Chalmers, we can't prove that we're not. If, however, we have understood the main argument against the theory that we are all figments of a simulation (and we are not at all sure that we have), there would - if we were all stuck in a giant simulation - not only be glitches, leading to weirdness like gravity suddenly malfunctioning and pigs becoming airborne, there would also be no way that whoever made the simulation would omit leaving some sign to his or her or its creation that it existed in an artificial production. Simple smugness demands it. Being something of a virtuoso in the matter of smugness ourselves, this argument seems inexorably logical, and we see no reason to probe more deeply into the matter.

What caused us to reflect on the simulation problem is that it has recently dawned on us that Shewee Fiend Friend gives us advice not according to what she, on close reflection and with balanced judgement, considers to be the best course of action, but according to what would provide the best entertainment for her. In other words, Shewee Fiend Friend might potentially be a benevolent if capricious puppet-master, setting us off bumping hither and thither like a rather gorgeous dodgem car, then sitting back to enjoy the ensuing chaos and drama, spiced with the occasional distressing hangover and/or heartbreak. 

Considering that Shewee Fiend Friend has been our close friend for over a decade, this gives rise to some rather curious, not to say nervous, reflections. Has Shewee Fiend Friend been manipulating us for her own amusement for twelve years? What about that time when we had three near-death experiences (at least - it is quite possible that we lost count due to alcohol and terror) in the course of twenty-four hours? Or has an unsettling symbiosis developed, in a manner that would be slightly worrying if one were a Freudian, where we ask advice in the knowledge that we will be told what we want to hear (except of course in the case of looking at pictures of Justin Trudeau), meaning we are likely to soon be doing something unwise but entertaining? Possibly we will never know. But bear this possibility in mind, as we take a disconcerting virtual stroll through an ancient prairie hotel.

Does this remind us of something? Why, yes, it reminds us of the Sinister Gurglings Toilet Tale. (If you perk up at the thought of charging across the steppe on a noble steed, nostrils flaring, while roaring "Bij, morduj!" and attempting to decapitate your enemies with a sabre, you should definitely click on the link.)

Does your heart swell with pride at this dedication to the Privy Counsel Standards of Source Criticism (PCSSC)? Ours does.

Mmm. Who doesn't!

Shouts from the gallery: "Boo!"

 It is perhaps lucky, all things considered, that one's hopes never really lifted off the ground. At best they flapped about for a bit then crashed drunkenly.

Speaking of crashing drunkenly after flapping, we've had communications from Jonny (who counts as a friend for administrative reasons). What follows below are photos from the gents' toilets at the Hereford Rowing Club. You heard it here first!

 

Are the sinks and taps weirdly reminiscent of those in the Banff Springs Hotel? Are we too distracted by Jonny's essential hunka-hunka-ness to commit to any deep reflection on this topic? Yes, yes, and yes.

This, according to Jonny, is a "fancy James Bond-style keypad".

Don't you love this avant-garde angle of these urinals? Does it remind you of something? Of course it does.

We don't know where this is and do not want to know, but Jonny calls it a "Tetris toilet". As you were.

 We will not of course let you go before we have foisted a Festive Video on your already fragile state of mind.

 

 Festive Video: Caitlin Rose, Pink Rabbits

 

Related Reading

Are we all stuck in a giant simulation? Are our robot overlords amusing themselves by implanting false memories into our brains? We can't prove that they're not.

All posts featuring Shewee Fiend Friend 

All posts featuring Canada 

The Girl Bartenders Hate

The Sinister Gurglings Toilet Tale - a hearty vampire story

 More fainting couches to be had here: Echoes of Edgar Allan Poe

You may also enjoy Fires! Floods! Philology! God help us all. 

All posts featuring Jonny

Brownian Motion, or, Brownout, or, A Brown Study - Semi-Intellectual Friend's Shower

 

Echoes of Edgar Allan Poe

In terms of literary devices we're big, as all regular readers are aware, on themes here at the Privy Counsel. One of our main themes, after plumbing-horror-induced handwringing and unstructured ranting, is friendship. (Please note however that Jonny counts as a friend for administrative reasons only.) We have had occasion to note recently that true friends are those who make it a point of honour to take the piss out of one whatever one happens to be doing, whether one is of sound mind or not, and indeed irrespective of whether one happens to be suffering from acute gastric distress due to ingesting too many weird pink shots in a godforsaken prairie bar.

The concept of constructive criticism gets a bad press in these times of cancel culture and groupthink. However, telling people when they're wrong is crucial to maintaining public order and a civilised society. Ponder this very bog blog, for instance. How many plumbing heathens have we converted to the true faith by gently yet inexorably pointing out the horrors of separated taps, doors with large scary gaps, and sticky spots on the floor? Well, we haven't strictly counted them, but there are quite a few people by now who send us weird photos.

 

Constructive criticism, however, presupposes the ability to hold unusual or unpopular beliefs. If one were, for instance, to repress all mention of hanging bog rolls arse-backwards, one would never, if one is to believe John Stuart Mill, have the pleasure of insufferable smugness in a heated debate about toilet roll orientation. Now obviously, on this subject, there is only one possible position, morally as well as intellectually. However, it is only when heterodox views are tolerated that one gets to hear ideas which, though ludicrous, may be challenging and inspirational. Moreover, it is only when dissent is encouraged that one gets to hear valid critique of one's own delusional notions - which, however smug one may be feeling in the moment, may be constructive in the long run. If, for instance, one happens to have spent - to pick an example at random - all of 2015, 2016 and 2017, most of 2018, and possibly even parts of 2019, perving on Justin Trudeau, it does feel better, when he goes full-on tin-pot dictator in 2022, to know that Shewee Fiend Friend spent all those years regularly informing one that one was being an arse.

As Aristotle probably said, we disapprove of your awful non-mixer taps but would suffer mild burn injuries for your right to keep constructing them. Thus, when people whose judgement we for some reason still trust insist on hanging toilet rolls back to front, we resist the urge to call for their heads to be cut off. Instead we graciously tolerate their aberrations, taking great pleasure in our own magnanimity, and encourage them to send us toilet photos, in the hope that they will one day see the light. 

 

On the subject of toilet photos, we received these from Shewee Fiend Friend, who wrote:

I was in a prize winning public loo tonight

I was in this restaurant for a [information redacted for the sake of public decency]

So that was weird. I only have very broken stressed memories of that night

I think it checks all the boxes

Resting being one of our favourite activities, we heartily approve of this piece of furniture, so charmingly named, by those quaint North Americans, a fainting couch.

One of our top five activities is almost seeing people.

Behold! The reassuring sight of spare loo rolls! Rejoice, for there may be some hope, however small, for mankind after all.

 

These toilets can be found at the Sauce Italian Kitchen & Market in Calgary - queen of Canadian cities - and made the top five list in the Canada's Best Restroom competition in 2016, as reported by CBC.

I couldn’t hear anyone else peeing though two other ladies were while I was in there

It has everything you could want. Floor to ceiling doors, solid hooks, pompous art and a fainting couch

I guess they were just nominated. Still, top 5!

The gas station won that year

 

Speaking of gas stations, Jonny - everyone's favourite Toilet Babe - has also been in touch with some photos. "I hope you're ready for this," he wrote. 

 

Reader, we were not ready!

Is Jonny the Marlon Brando of toilet selfies?

This is supposed to be a hygienic seat. We keep getting distracted by the sticky spot on the floor, however, and find ourselves unable to concentrate on the alleged hygiene. Does one hear echoes of Edgar Allan Poe?

We are always in favour of not touching things, and heartily approve this door! It reminds us of that time we went to hear - and also see - Caitlin Moran in Copenhagen in 2016.

Other things we are in favour of are helpful signage and clear instructions.

For anyone who finds him- or herself straining at the leash to use these facilities, they can be found at the Toddington motorway services.

If your heart yearns rather for Terminator-level toilet horror, you may appreciate this piece of satire from McSweeney's, sent to us by Tudor Friend.

Let there be a Festive Video.

Festive Video - Sarah Shook and the Disarmers, No Mistakes

Related Reading

A godforsaken prairie bar

All posts featuring Shewee Fiend Friend 

TOTAL TAP INSANITY

All posts featuring Jonny

Caitlin Moran Really Does Make Everything Better

Terminator Toilet 

All posts featuring Tudor Friend

Why cancel culture makes you stupid