Cuteness, Intellectual Solace, and a Correction

We're not usually humble at the Privy Counsel, contriteness being contrary to editorial policy, but we know when it's time to admit that someone has a bloody good point. Like with this whole cute palaver, for instance. You will remember our razor-sharp jibe at Intellectual Friend in our last post, when we questioned "Intellectual Friend's use of the word 'cute' with a severity not tempered by a long and fond friendship". We still maintain that Intellectual Friend's way of expressing himself was vulgar and loathsome in the extreme, but we do acknowledge the validity of the subsequent justification, it being based on sound etymology and philosophical musings. It is also a sheer bloody joy to read. We don't know what your life has been like lately, but at Privy Counsel HQ we've been plagued by all manner of vile things like illness, neurotic outbursts, and grammar. This missive from Intellectual Friend, however, soothed our soul and enveloped us in a cloud of bliss and joyfulness. You're welcome:

Ha! Quite cool! And the etymological roots of the word paragon [we referred to Danish Friend and Intellectual Friend as "paragons of romance"] sprout from the sense 'sharp'. Which might seem like a gratuitous and worthless remark, except that I'm about to try to make a subtle, potentially intellectually amusing, point, or two; let's see if I get there... 

So, I don't know what has bitten me into using the word 'cute' in that Norwegian toilet blurb of mine, and it is probably reprehensible on most accounts and from most angles. Nevertheless, a posteriori, as a post factum kind of commentary, if not justification nor excuse ('a posteriori' probably suggests in fact not only spuriousness but also arse-talking), I was vaguely amused to discover that 'cute' is an aphetic form of 'acute' and that it was used, originally, in the sense 'sharp', too! ('Sharp, quick-witted' etc.) (And I would further surmise that cute is, via acute, actually cognate with the -agon of paragon.) Though of course apheticism is presumably reprehensible in itself, and one is not surprised to find that this particular aphetic development, along with its later semantic developments and crazy perversions, came from overseas. Though, and this may return us to less theoretico-linguistic and more down-to-earth matters, in this case to that earth-embedded Norwegian fjell-toilet, one might be also amused by one of the OED's citations for the word cute, which perhaps evidences a semantically transitional stage, and optionally one might also be intrigued by its potentially uncanny relevance to all this irrelevant rambling:

1900 Daily News 15 Nov. 6/5 A small and compact wooden house, what the Americans would call ‘cute’.

So as you see, Intellectual Friend's use of the word "cute" was entirely justified, at least in hindsight, and with a good deal of learned ramblings attached.

Our good news and general cheerfulness don't end there! We've got a highly encouraging picture of a young man, the son of good friends of ours, tending to his hygiene in a most laudable manner! This enthusiasm for handwashing is surely to be encouraged in these times of influenza and probably (it wouldn't surprise us if it were lurking) cholera, and if one is lucky enough to have access to a mixer tap, then so much the better!
In the interests of privacy we have taken the liberty of adding certain, er, accoutrements to the young man's appearance. This has the added effect of helpfully showing his parents what he will look like when he's grown up. Lo and behold!

When the little fellow is a bit older we hope he may enjoy
the moral of our exciting drama Alien vs. Predator: Blood, Gore and Mixer-Taps,
which features, in a minor role, a young person tending to their hygiene.

Wasn't that great! Let's have a festive video, to celebrate how much better everything feels now!
Blaze Foley's Big Cheeseburgers and Good French Fries:




Related Reading
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Snyrt, Snyrt: Landnámssýningin

Alien vs. Predator: Blood, Gore and Mixer-Taps

"Time You Enjoy Wasting Is Not Wasted Time" - A Review of 2014 at the Privy Counsel

Well, that's Christmas done. Most people are now back home, constipated, unable to button their jeans, and resolved to never spend several days in the company of Aunt Margery's onion breath and casual racism ever again. A new year, in which we will all do our utmost to avoid our relations, is about to dawn! A new year, in which we haven't yet mortally offended anyone, or got way too drunk and spent a whole day quietly leaking bodily fluids and wishing for death, or burned the pasta. (Yes, actually burned. Pasta.)

So, in order to draw a line under the unbroken procession of fuck-ups and screaming bloody horrors that constituted 2014, let's do a review of the Privy Counsel year. We have selected twelve of our favourite posts to represent the year as a whole, and we rather thought we'd review them in a whimsical, intellectual manner, whether you want us to or not.

Ahem.

Blogge poste the firste:
(Don't) Aim for the Stars

Why do some men piss on the floor? Why? Why? Why? Why in the name of arse? Why?
Shewee Fiend Friend, in a moment of despair, having tried to talk, to explain, to reason with the offending floor-defiler, contemplated homicide or at least dismemberment. In the end, however, she decided that moving to London was less of a hassle than trying to sort this guy out.

We stand in awe of the woman who wrote this note.
Image from flickr.com.

Poste the seconde:
Cuteness, Intellectual Solace, and a Correction

Intellectual Friend, in a moment of - we are assuming - temporary insanity, used the word cute in an email to us. This could obviously not go unpunished. Intellectual Friend, in order to regain his honour and save himself from eternal shame and mockery, had to use his wits, and use them fast. We will say, in defence of Intellectual Friend's virtue, that he did well. We haven't, obviously, forgotten his using the word cute (it's gone on the record as The Faux Pas of Doom), but we have forgiven it.

This blood-thirsty young pirate is very far from being cute.
He is completely terrifying!

Poste the thirde:
Rampant Titillation - Basically, a Real-Life Epistolary Novel

Some of our posts got very, very long during 2014. This was one of them. In its defence, however, it also showcased Semi-Intellectual Friend's, shall we say, unique take on reality. Many of our readers, actually, have expressed their appreciation of Semi-Intellectual Friend's vigorous prose and dynamic use of imagery. For instance, Semi-Intellectual Friend hatched this gem of a paragraph:

Even when you're not around (admittedly, almost always), I'm doing things like preferring hand dryers over recycled paper towels in the hopes that the negative impact of such an act will be chain-reactioned through all the atoms of our existence and push a small stone into your shoe when you're running, just at the exact moment your foot hits the ground (yeah! that was me).

We have no idea what we'd do without the support of our friends. We'd be lost. Adrift. Flushed down the drain. We thank all the gods of the universe for the backing we receive from our friends.

Without our friends, we'd be isolated, unhinged, and in the dark, like the toilet on the right.

Poste the fourthe:
An Annoyingly Long, But Brilliantly Clever, Post, Including Shewees, Beer, and Some Other Stuff

This post got really long. Really long. But it had so much excellent stuff in it - beer! feminism! decorative mould! shrubberies! - that we just couldn't restrain ourselves.

Logically, this mould can be nothing other than a clever Art Nouveau-esque decoration.

Poste the fifthe
A Life-Affirming Experience

It was the heat. We swear, we kept chugging water, all night long, but - without wanting to be unnecessarily indelicate - it was so hot that we just sweated all the water right out. The result was not, perhaps, the worst hangover of our life, but definitely one of the top five. You'd think we'd have learned by now. But - the heat.

A girl's best friend in a tight spot - a clean, stylish Icelandic toilet.

Poste the sixthe:
Foul Play, Also Fowl Issues

In this post, we ranted about the pissiness of the universe, noted the sudden absence of dwarves in our archive (the pheasants, however, are still in place, and as boisterous as ever), and reminisced about "that time when we went to Sir Toby's with Obsessive Emmerdale Fan Friend, and some other nice friends, to watch the rugby, and Wales won, or lost, or disappeared in an earthquake, or similar".

Life is perilous, and we're not sure of the state of Wales, but here, at any rate, is a reassuring toilet-roll holder.

Poste the seventhe:
On the Nature of Academic Friendships

In which we philosophised on the state of having weird friends.

This water-saving toilet is IN A WINE MUSEUM.

Poste the eighthe:
Beware of Greeks Bearing Gifts, But Totally Trust the Toilet Attendant

In a fit of unbridled adventurousness we went to visit a friend in Athens. Greece has been hard hit by the economic downturn, but the locals were wonderfully friendly, the alcohol (and the coffee, and, oh God, the food) was tasty, and the plumbing was interesting and functional. Greece was also, in our experience, remarkably free from sexual harassment. We were only exposed to one very dispirited catcall during our stay, and we spent many hours travelling on the metro alone, wearing a short skirt. In fact, Greece is so awesome that we have, with Kick-Arse Suffragette Friend, hatched a plan to "open a feminist commune/library in Oia on Santorini. It's going to be amazing". We'll keep you posted.

This gentleman is called Bo. Here's how excited he is about the prospect of a feminist library.

Poste the ninthe:
Privy Counsel Pin-Up: Jonny! (Try to Restrain Yourselves.)

Every now and then, we post a photo of Jonny. Jonny is a nice boy but has very poor impulse control. If you could see some of the photos he's sent us but which we've decided - in the interest of mental hygiene - not to publish, you'd go park yourself on the toilet floor and never get up.

Still, this is inarguably an awesome photo.

Poste the tenthe:

Rosy-Fingered Dawn (But No Bloody Lock on the Door) in Istanbul

Sometimes our rampant intellectualism takes even us by surprise. What compelled us to quote classical Greek poetry in a bog blog remains a mystery, but there you are. We were quite excited by the prospect of travelling to Athens via Istanbul, and in many ways, we weren't disappointed. The quality of toilets at Istanbul airport was uneven, and if we were to use one word to sum up the facilities, it would be unreliable. However, the coffee was good, and the staff in Starbucks were the friendliest people we have met anywhere.

THE LOCK DIDN'T BLOODY WORK. AAARRRRRGGGH.

Poste the eleventhe:
Lead Pipe Dreams

As regular readers are aware, we love ranting. Love it! Nothing gets our juices flowing like a good rant, especially a plumbing-related one. Turns out we have finally met our match! 2014 was the year in which we introduced Exuberant Archaeologist Friend, who turns out to be a champion among ranters. A champion!

"Who are the barbarians now, motherfuckers?"

This lead pipe, marked "Vespasian", has been officially declared The Sexiest Lead Pipe of the Year.

Poste the twelfthe:
Rocking, Rolling, Ranting

2014 was also the year in which the question of which way to hang the toilet roll was finally settled. There need be no more discussion on this subject now.

If you suffer from combative flatmates, the vertical position is recommended.

2014. Some stuff that happened was BADASS. Some of it was just bad. Let's have a festive video and get it on with that champagne!

Festive video - Maddie & Tae, Girl in a Country Song

Related Reading

Caitlin Moran on women in music wearing no clothes (from a Marie Claire interview):

It’s like if every single male artist dressed up as farmers. In every video they were on a farm. Whether it was Jason Derulo or Oasis, they’re always on a tractor, they’re always surrounded by sheep and always in boots. And all the songs are about enjoying farming, and this is all you've had for ten years – you’d think you were going mad.

Postscript

If you are in need of spiritual solace, rest assured that 2014 was also the year in which The Prettiest Mixer Tap in Britain was introduced. Contemplating it is very soothing. Thank you, Tudor Friend.

The Prettiest Mixer Tap in Britain

Post-Postscript

2014 was also the year in which our friend Jane started her blog Temple of Janus. This blog is - if this is indeed possible - even more rampantly intellectual than our own humble bog blog! Jane specialises in sexy pictures of features of medieval architecture - of the kind that keep scholars the world over up at night, salivating into a bucket. There is also fierce, groundbreaking analysis.  It's a scream!

Norwegian Wood

So some saint or other died some time ago, and significant amounts of people take this as a cue to spend money on vulgar gifts in a bid to celebrate "romance". We don't understand the logic at all, but then, as many of our regular readers are aware, we're not hugely into romance at the Counsel, finding things like mixer-taps and cholera way more exciting. Nonetheless, other people demonstrably manage to derive romance out of things other than plumbing. Danish Friend and Intellectual Friend, for instance! Those paragons of romance sent us pictures from their honeymoon, which must surely satisfy even the most hardened romantic?

(You remember when Danish Friend and Intellectual Friend got married, right?)

Intellectual Friend writes, intelligently as ever:

Opp på fjella, high up on the top of Hognåsen mountain, in western Norway deep into the Sognefjord, as one emerges from the woods weary after long, winding wanderings and steep scramblings, one is greeted by a blissful, colourful, almost untrodden, silent, peaceful paradise... and in the middle stands an overgrown shieling or two (a.k.a. seter), and even more in the middle (though there's quite a number of middles up there), crowning the whole mountain landscape, there stands the best-ever-situated bog a.k.a. outhouse a.k.a. jenny a.k.a. outdoor/earth privy! In other words, a WOODEN TOILET ON A NORWEGIAN MOUNTAIN HALFWAY UP TO HEAVEN!

The sight of it is breath-taking, so cute and fairy-tale-y it is. Also behold how it slants and leans on the gentle, Pisa-Tower-like, or more appropriately Ymir-tooth-like, or troll-tooth-like. Its inside is also breath-taking, somewhat literally, due to the stench, of a quality indicating fairly recent use but not necessary by humans (olfactive evidence would suggest trolls, were it not for the structure's small size).

But then, when one emerges from it back again to the light and magic and wildflowery fragrance, and takes in again the view that the toilet commands in every direction on grass and sky and tree and flower and fjord and fjell, and glaciers on the rim of the world, one is so breath-taken that one just gasps and mingles with the silence, and just frantically takes pictures of it all, being glad to have borrowed Danish Friend's awesome camera, before in the end resuming one's (also wondrous and fairy-tale-y) honeymoonish activities.

Well, it certainly doesn't need all that blabber. But it was an eye-opener then. And now apparently a gob-opener.

While we question Intellectual Friend's use of the word "cute" with a severity not tempered by a long and fond friendship, we nonetheless thank Danish Friend and Intellectual Friend a thousand times for generously taking time out of their honeymoon to photograph toilets for us! And we agree that the camera is stupendous - in fact, we're inclined to think that Danish Friend should be the Privy Counsel's official photographer!

Hell, let's finish with a semi-related festive video!
Not the Nine O'Clock News,"The Swedish Chemist's Shop":



Related reading
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SISTERS STANDING UP FOR THEMSELVES
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I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, But Here's a Picture of a Lovely Soap

Also, also, also
Intellectual Friend justifies his use of the vulgar and indefensible word "cute": Cuteness, Intellectual Solace, and a Correction

The Weight of a Talent

 You know when you're in a job interview and the cold, clammy hand of fear grips you as you realise you forgot - once again - to prepare a sane and reasonable answer to the question "What are your strengths and weaknesses?". You find yourself gaping, rather in the manner of a medium-sized cod, trout, or halibut, with a look on your face resembling that of Bertie Wooster realising he's got to marry - through no fault of his own - Honoria Glossop. This, as all civilised people agree, is a perverse and horrifying question, and asking it should absolutely be in the UN statues regulating crimes against humanity. Be that as it may - being moderately narcissistic, we tend not to focus on any flaws we might theoretically have here at the Privy Counsel, but swot up on our strengths whenever we get the chance. Such as they are. 

Having mostly misspent our youth and also our adult age, and being on track to largely squander our impending middle age, also, our talents might perhaps most honestly be described as "varied", "diverse", or "miscellaneous" rather than, say, "amazing" or "financially rewarding". However, one happy result of our having spent so much of our time writing a weird blog about toilets instead of, say, learning bookkeeping, crocheting street art, or networking with key players in the industry, is that we know a really good urinal when we see one. We don't remember ever consulting a career counsellor in our youth but if we had, now's the time we'd like to go back in time and triumphantly tell that smug adviser to their face that See? we know about urinals, so there. Anyway, Shewee Fiend Friend sent us these photos from a hotel in Canada:

We always find bars on the wall reassuring.

A beauty!

Yes, reader, that does read Twyfords Ltd., Hanley, England.

Our curt Canadian toilet photographer says:

I found a toilet for you

Actually the toilet itself is terrible

But the urinal was excellent

The hotel was founded 1926. The urinal could be from then?

But the rest of the bathroom is just old and grungy, not cute and antique at all

We shall of course be having a stern word with Shewee Fiend Friend about her use of the word "cute".

Meanwhile, Jonny - that splendid specimen of British manhood - has been to a Gordon Ramsay restaurant, causing us to ask ourselves whether Gordon Ramsay is the perfect representation of Orwell's Colonel Blimp? We have no idea, so instead here's a passage from "British Cookery":

 

When Voltaire made his often-quoted statement that the country of Britain has "a hundred religions and only one sauce", he was saying something which was untrue and which is equally untrue today, but which might still be echoed in good faith by a foreign visitor who made only a brief stay and drew his impressions from hotels and restaurants. For the first thing to be noticed about British cookery is that it is best studied in private houses, and more particularly in the homes of the middle-class and working-class masses who have not become Europeanised in their tastes. Cheap restaurants in Britain are almost invariably bad, while in expensive restaurants the cookery is almost always French, or imitation French. In the kind of food eaten, and even in the hours at which meals are taken and the names by which they are called, there is a definite cultural division between the upper-class minority and the big mass who have preserved the habits of their ancestors.

 

We're not sure what relevance this quote has, if any, for the below pictures but there's a time for quoting Orwell and that time is all the time.

"Nice urinal cake!", we commented. "I didn't sample it myself," quipped Jonny, laconically. "I stuck to the menu items."

This looks hygienic and well lit.

Yes, it's a Crapper crapper.

Here we go again with the cattle troughs.

Finally, here's a hot photo of Jonny and some air dryers.

Also, an important announcement: A friend of ours who recently visited Greece, and lived to tell the tale, brought us back an amusing soap called "Venus Secrets", which purports to contain ass's milk. Yes! Ass's milk! As a result of performing our ablutions with this miraculous beauty product, we expect to soon (the packaging doesn't specify a time frame, but reasonably within three to four weeks, surely?) be wielding the fascination of a Cleopatra and - who knows? - engaging in some festive naval battles and maybe destabilising an empire. Watch this space.

For our Festive Video we were naturally going to use Morrissey's Boy Racer ("He thinks he's got the whole world in his hands / Stood at the urinal / He thinks he's got the whole world in his hands / And I'm gonna kill him"), but Shewee Fiend Friend recently had an experience with this song and thought it had a profound significance in terms of the human condition, Weltschmerz, etc. 

Festive Video: Miley Cyrus, Used to Be Young

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Ketchup and Other Sauces, Real And Imaginary

We trust that all our readers are familiar with the ketchup effect, whereby a desired quantity of something fails to appear for a long time, only to overwhelm one in abundance when one least expects it. We won't go into tedious details of the various ways in which toilet pictures have landed in our archive. Let's just say that there is a scientific shit-ton of stuff.

We are writing this on a train, believe it or not, which is a lot less exciting than it sounds. There is for instance no whisky in our immediate vicinity. Nor are there balloons, or attractive film stars, or any of the other things one would expect to find on a train on which one is writing a post for a high-quality bog blog.

Those of you who follow us on social media will be aware that we suffered a terrible calamity the other week: we lost the wifi connection at Privy Counsel HQ for an entire week! Luckily it came back, but we have not quite recovered from the shock, and are still having to restrain ourselves from shaking our fists maniacally, and putting pencils up our nose.

Tudor Friend sent us a message saying:

To celebrate your return to wifi: have some toilet photos. I took them when I was at Kensington Palace for a lecture back in December.

And the last one, my favourite, the sign for the ladies'!

We actually received a postcard from Tudor Friend some time ago, which looked like this:

Kensington Palace with Victoria in all her glory, on her throne

The postcard read:

Dear favourite Privy Counsellor, 

I'm sat in the entry to Kensington, which smells beautifully of greenery and orange peels from holiday swag. As I cannot attach them to a postcard, photos must be sent later, but I've photographed the bogs here for you. 

Though Victoria's actual ass ne'er sat upon today's "thrones", one can still imagine bad plumbing, the stink of sewage and cholera (although the loos here are quite fiercely clean). On the down side - no hook for one's bag. But the bathrooms give you rooms, proper privacy, and they're big enough to swing the cat (right into the toilet bowl, where it belongs). And you know it's royal, because there is actual sanitizer available to clean the seat!!! 

Both the taps - MIXED!! - and soap are on sensors and require no touch. Victoria's home it may be - Victoria's era hygiene standards it is not!! Four and a half stars - down half a point for the hook and slight paint-shabbiness on the room doors. But the way they distinguish ladies' and gents' is pretty cute. 

 Woof! What a refreshing epistle! These toilets seem to reach a royal standard - though not quite the Privy Counsel standard, considering the lack of a coat hook.
And yes, Tudor Friend italicizes words when writing postcards - our friends are that awesome. (Read our thoughts on the word cute, by the way, here.)

Before we break to run a meat skewer through the annoying man opposite us speaking loudly on his phone, let us have a gander at this photo a friend sent us, featuring two of our favourite people in the entire world.

Why these people are allowed out unsupervised
is as much of a mystery to us as it is to you.

We've got a special festive video today, to celebrate our return to wifi and the imminent demise of men on trains with no appreciation of social codes regarding noise levels, or personal space: an Elvis cover featuring Pete Whitelock! Also known as Pistol Pete! A legend in York, and the world! 

Festive video - Pete Whitelock, One Night

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Scylla, Charybdis, and the Vagaries of Christmas

 Remember Scylla and Charybdis? No? Don't worry, our memory is also shaky. Let us together make an attempt at appeasing Mnemosyne, mother of the muses, with a brief refresher. Scylla, according to a pub acquaintance of ours, was "a supernatural female creature, with 12 feet and six heads on long snaky necks, each head having a triple row of sharklike teeth, while her loins were girdled by the heads of baying dogs". Phew. Not someone you'd want to meet when staggering to the shop to get Diet Coke on a hungover Sunday, right? Well, exactly. Scylla probably had many admirable traits, if one were prepared to overlook her penchant for brutally ingesting everyone who came within her reach. She may well have had valuable insights, for instance, on foreign policy, or 15th-century pottery. It's important not to judge. Still, we're pretty sure we're not alone in hoping she stays away from the corner shop this particular morning.

But Charybdis was a chill person, right? Someone who enjoyed gardening, and cataloguing Cliff Richards LPs? Unfortunately, according to our source, Charybdis "lurked under a fig tree a bowshot away on the opposite shore, drank down and belched forth the waters thrice a day and was fatal to shipping". Oof. While one tries not to be guilty of unreasonable prejudice, this is starting to sound like an unpleasant pair, Scylla's purported expertise on Aachen stoneware notwithstanding. This, we're sure you agree, is all very worrying. But what you are no doubt wondering is why we're even bringing up these obnoxious characters, particularly on a day which we'd like to devote to contemplation, for instance on the value of stopping after the fourth beer. The practice of stopping after the fourth beer is contested in some circles, particularly when contrasted with alternative methods, like staying in the pub, gesticulating, until it closes. Both approaches, we're sure you agree, have their merits but one is more conducive to nausea. Whatever stance one takes, it is a classical problem well worth perusing on a Sunday.

We do actually have a reason for evoking the dilemma, faced by Odysseus - who, although undoubtedly a bit of a twat, was an acknowledged navigator - of trying to steer along a perilous route, edged on two sides by mythological monsters. You see, we have an impossible choice before us. Jonny, that trail-blazing avant-gardist of the photography of sanitational milieus, has sent us such a richness of bog pictures that we are at risk of being either devoured by Scylla or drunk down and then belched forth by Charybdis. 

We have in our possession pictures of some rampantly festive red hand-dryers which just scream "CHRISTMAS BOG BLOG POST!". Thus we could make these photos the basis of our Christmas post, based on the reasonable assumption that we will absolutely not be in possession of enough brio and pizzazz to produce another intriguing bog blog post before Christmas. Or we could blissfully assume that the joys of the season will inspire in us a glowing zeal to publish Jonny's toilet photos, powerful enough to overcome our constitutional lethargy and, to borrow a word from Jane Eyre, inanition, and write another post, later, which can be nominated this year's Christmas post. In that case, we'd do better to publish, today, the pictures of the wet toilets in the park, which Jonny advocates "hosing down" (in a manner psychologically reminiscent of the monstrous Charybdis?), and keep the red hand-dryers for a potential future bout of inspiration, which however must not consume us so far into the future that Christmas is over. You see the dilemma?

You're right of course. It wasn't really a dilemma. Here are the festive red hand-dryers! Jonny says:

Not sure why but 'Seasons Treatings' made me really angry. Also got a new jumper and thought I looked cute.

 

We agree that this is heinous and ought - in a fair and just world - to result in punishment along medieval lines.

A very unholy trinity. Or a sign of things to come? Who knows what miracles the future holds.

If memory serves us (and empirical data suggests not), we remarked to Jonny, upon receiving this picture, something along the lines of, "Might just be because we've just seen the Caravaggio film, with wine, but we love the aesthetics!".

Does Jonny look cute in this jumper? Does the plot of Caravaggio's Shadow involve a very worrying horse?

Merry Christmas.

Festive Video: Kitty, Daisy and Lewis - Silent Night

Related Reading

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 Our opinion on air dryers:
AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH AIR DRYERS 

A Study of the Correlation between the Extremely Scary Toilet Aerosol Effect and Acute OCD in Toilet Bloggers

OCD is extremely common and can manifest itself in many different ways. At the Privy Counsel, we favour hygiene-related OCD (as opposed to, for instance, extreme hoarding, or preoccupation with sexual, violent or religious thoughts). As this anxiety disorder seems to have become a bit of a theme lately - we've been bandying the link to our article "Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Toilet Roll Holders (But Were Afraid to Ask)" about an awful lot - we thought to ourselves, "hell, why not get a bit festive and do an update on the toilet aerosol effect?" After all, the weekend is approaching!

So, let's talk about the toilet aerosol effect, shall we? This, for the benefit of our non-regular readers, is the phenomenon first described by Dr Charles Gerba, of the University of Arizona, of a mist of bacteria spread across the bathroom by tiny airborne water droplets when flushing the toilet.
The enterprising fellas at Mythbusters conducted a related experiment with toothbrushes. They kept a bunch of toothbrushes in different locations in the bathroom for a month, and then employed a snazzy science lady to check the bacterial levels in the bristles. Obviously what we're all dying to know is, were the toothbrushes infested with faecal bacteria? We think you know, in your heart of hearts, what the answer is.



Festive video - Mythbusters, Surprise Toothbrush MiniMyth

The toilet aerosol effect: A very scary concept. Image from Innovationsupplychain.

The idea of a squadron of water-borne toilet bacteria parachuting down onto your toothbrush is obviously most unpleasant. So what to do? The first thing that springs to many people's minds is to put the toilet lid down when flushing. That bedrock of factual, level-headed journalism, the Daily Mail, favours this approach. Quoting Professor Mark Wilcox at Leeds Teaching Hospitals NHS Trust, the Daily Mail says,

"[...] Although it was unlikely that keeping the lid up would be a 'huge' health hazard, their findings suggested patients with a superbug should at least have a dedicated toilet.
He added that their research also had wider implications, telling the Mail Online: 'It would be prudent if there is a lid to put it down after flushing. [...] Some bugs spread more easily to surfaces this way and the norovirus is thought to be one of them. Our advice - put down the lid if it's there and wash your hands afterwards.'"

Professor Wilcox has been studying the spread of the C. Difficile bacteria in hospitals. The study concluded that the lack of hospital toilet lids may impede progress in this field.

C. difficile: So cute. So resistant to antibiotics.  Image from Giant Microbes

However (and there's always a "however" when discussing hygiene), a study by J. Barker and M. V. Jones, published in the Journal of Applied Microbiology, comes to a different conclusion. The article, cunningly named "The Potential Spread of Infection Caused by Aerosol Contamination of Surfaces after Flushing a Domestic Toilet", says:

"Closing the toilet lid had little effect in reducing the number of bacteria released into the air which was c. 1000 CFU m−3 after the first flush (data not shown). Although splashes would probably have been contained by closing the lid, there was a gap of 15 mm between the top of the porcelain rim and the seat, and also a gap between the seat and the lid of 12 mm which would allow aerosols to escape into the room. Conversely, Darlow and Bale (1959) found that closing the lid reduced the aerosol concentration by a ratio of 1 : 2 but their measurements were performed using a ‘wash-down’ toilet and an impinger air sampler. In contrast, Bound and Atkinson (1966) found that closing the lid did not significantly reduce the bacterial count in the air from a ‘wash-down’ toilet seeded with E. coli using a slit sampler positioned at seat level."

The idea of toilets spewing out clouds of lethal bacteria so terrifies us
that our capacity for critical thinking has been impaired, and we are reduced
to posting lolcat pictures. Image from Suzannekesten.

While we're all in favour of developing mild-to-life-threatening OCD (this is how we get our kicks in a small town on a very limited budget), there are limits. Some people calling themselves The Maids, expressing concern over the toilet aerosol effect, recommend the following hygiene measures to protect yourself from inhaling nasty microscopic creatures:

• Leave disinfecting wipes in the bathroom and wipe down your sink, drain and faucet handles daily to minimize germs and bacteria. The sink is the most prevalent place for bacteria.
• When cleaning your bathroom weekly, first mist over the sink, toilet and counters with a disinfecting spray. Let the spray dry completely before using other cleaning products.
• After your fiberglass shower, sink and tub are clean and dry, use Turtle Wax. It will protect and polish surfaces and guard against dirt and grime so cleaning is easier the next week.

Frankly, we've got better things to do.

To combat our mounting hysteria, we let ourselves be soothed by the comforting, dulcet tones of Dr Know. Watch his toothbrush-testing video here.

How clean is your toilet? Image from Honeyishrunkthegrief

Further reading:
Potential for aerosolization of Clostridium difficile after flushing toilets: the role of toilet lids in reducing environmental contamination risk (synopsis)
Most hospital C. difficile cases have not spread from other patients
Handwashing tips from the Privy Counsel
Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Toilet Rolls (But Were Afraid to Ask)
All OCD-Related Links

Blurry, Lop-Sided Archive Musings

Since writing the below, we've sobered up, got drunk again and engaged in what we're pretty sure qualifies as line-dancing. You only live once.

Egad, corblimey and plain out zounds! what a week it's been! We've been working semi-productively on an etymological mystery with Intellectual Friend, heard some good news from Obsessive Emmerdale Fan Friend, and generally experienced a reasonable amount of thrilling tidings, semi-unbridled festiveness and joie de vivre!  (And only part of that joie de vivre is beer-induced.)
Another thing that's been adding fizziness to the Privy Counsel atmosphere is burrowing into the archives at Arkivcentrum Syd. This festive archive, filled literally to the rafters with exciting material and friendly staff, isn't far from our favourite university library, the Lund University Library - one of the toilets of which we have privately dedicated to Intellectual Friend, in homage to his giant intellect! (A truly dazzling intellect deserves its own honorary toilet, surely?)
Also, we are simply bursting with delight to tell you, the toilets at Arkivcentrum Syd are excellent. No relative, maybe, hmm-let's-think-about-it caution here - these toilets are truly spiffing!
Enjoy:

We regret that modern technology has, once again, thrown a spanner
into the works. If you find this sideways toilet perspective enjoyable,
see Gleeful Antics at Grays Court.

Check this out! Mixer tap, cleanliness and gleaming hygiene as far as the eye can see!

We fucking love these doorhandles.
They're easy to use, and you can operate them with your elbow, meaning
you don't have to recontaminate your hands by touching the doorhandle
after painstakingly washing your hands.
If you enjoy opening doors with your elbow, see our OCD label.

Isn't that lovely!

Woof! UNBLEACHED PAPER TOWELS IN A STYLISH HOLDER!
If you enjoy paper towels, see our post called AAAAAAARGH!

Here's the sink again. Christ, it's lovely.

AND HERE'S THE BEST THING OF ALL! TOILET ART!!!

This painting, displayed in the Arkvicentrum cloakroom,
is by a chap called Peter Lundström. It's entitled Orpheus Street.
(N.b. the painting is also sideways, due to technical errors.)

Another painting (also show here sideways), by the same artist, is called Mossbury Road.
We find the in-your-face boldness of the non-integrated tap refreshing!

We hope you enjoyed that glimpse of scholarly toilets! Speaking of which, Intellectual Friend sent us a line after we published his oh-so-intellectual justification for ill-advisedly using the word cute:

"What a pleasure to get published, almost instantly, and without even being asked to make corrections to over-rambling sentences and lack of supporting references, and all this in a cutting-edge, no doubt world-leading bog blog, where, on top of everything else, one even gets a brilliant editorial foreword, afterword, and epilogue to one's ramblings! "

Anyone for a festive video to finish off all this gusto, brio and joie de vivre? Because we shook our boots to the un-feminist version of this song on the dancefloor last night, we have a strong urge to play the feminist version, in order to restore the balance of the universe. The lyrics seem strangely appropriate: 

We are scholastic
Smart and sarcastic 

Not fucking plastic

"Law Revue Girls want to define those supposedly 'blurred lines'."

Related Reading

Lund University Library: Festschrift to Intellectual Friend

Cuteness, Intellectual Solace, and a Correction

AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! AIR-DRYERS!

The Intellectual Streak Continues: Leeds University Library Bogs, or, Yorkshire Graffitti

More Intellectual-Friend-Related sideways toilets:

Gleeful Antics at Grays Court

A Toilet Mystery