On Matters Lavatorial.

I remember saying in one of my post-operative notes that those bodily functions which are never spoken about in polite company become everyday currency once you’re in a urology ward. I was musing on this recently and a thought occurred to me: common parlance has no expression for one of those functions which is not either twee or distinctly indelicate. I’m sure I don’t need to append a list. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.

And then there’s the matter of the waking nightmare which has developed since those heady days last spring and summer. I expect even the most sheltered of ladies knows that when men wish to void their bladders in a public lavatory, they have to stand shoulder to shoulder with other men. This is now of some concern to me because I imagine that one day I shall find myself standing next to a man with hands the size of garden spades who is clearly struggling with something. He will turn to me and say:

‘That’s the trouble with having a big ’un, lad. It’s so hard to get the damn thing out. How big’s yours? Let’s have a look.’

I really don’t think I would survive unscathed from the assault on my refined sensibilities.