Monday, 21 March 2011

Gents Review.

One of my favourite things to do is go to the toilet. Two of my least favourite things are the public and men. You can therefore imagine my utter distress of needing to use the toilet when I'm out of my house. It means I'm going to have to go to use a room frequented by the public and most of them will be men. Sure, within a public lavatory they have some smaller rooms called "cubicles" but even when you're in one of these smaller rooms you can still hear members of the public talking and, thanks to the sexist way we all urinate and deficate, those members of the public that I always hear are men. You can just sit there and you'll end up hearing someone outside the smaller room singing never before heard Christmas carols * or when you leave the smaller room and go to wash your hands you'll meet a smelly dick**.

I'm quite terrified of public toilets. Something bad is always going to happen in there. Sometimes something disgusting will happen in there. Sometimes something completely stupid. On Friday night, I had my second of two bad public toilets with men in them encounters. The second one was actually not as bad or disgusting as the first. It was just revolting and odd. I walked into the toilet at Ruby Blue (a venue where I was booked to NOT go on stage and I got paid for it. If that's not the biggest FUCK YOU to Comic Relief then I will try harder next year) and saw three men chatting to one another. They were just standing there. Chatting. In a public toilet. Where people shit and piss. They just stood there having a little chat. It's not like they were chatting while washing or drying their hands or even exchanging light banter while standing at the urinal. They were just stood there in the middle of the public toilet chatting. And for those of you who think that's not as weird as it sounds let me also inform you that these three men were standing there, in this public toilet, chatting and drinking coffee. They had coffee, in real cups, and they drank them in the public toilet. What does that say about the bar, Ruby Blue, when people would rather drink coffee in a room where men go to release stools than sit in the bar itself drinking coffee while shouting over the top of S&M by Rihanna?

But before the incident in Ruby Blue there was the incident in All Bar One, Leicester Square. This is going to be quite a tough story to re-tell in a blog so I'll just pretty much transcribe it with as little exaggeration as I can. Let me set the scene first: Two men are standing together at one side of the urinal and another man is standing alone on the other. There is no room for me to wee-wee so I wait. While I wait, I overhear the two men standing together. This was their charming conversation...

"You fucked her the other night though, didn't you?"

"What? Shut up".

"You did though, didn't you? You did. You fucked her. You did. You did though. You fucked her. You fucked her. You fucked her. You did. You fucked her. You did though".

"Shut up".

"Admit it. You fucked her. You did. You fucked her. You fucked her. You fucked her. You fucked her. You fucked her. You fucked her. You fucked her. You fucked her. You fucked her. You fucked her. You fucked her. You fucked her. You did though. You did. You fucked her".

"Fucking shut up".

"I'm just saying, mate. You fucked her. You did. You did though. You did. You did. You fucked her. You fucked her. You know you did. You fucked her. You did. You did. You did though. You fucked her. You know you did".

"I'm not saying I did, I'm not saying I didn't".

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! You fucking did. You fucking did. You fucked her. You did. You know you did".

The "You fucked her" man stopped urinating, pulled up his zip and left the public toilet while laughing. This made his friend think. I'm assuming the friend wanted to clear up the whole did he/did he not fuck her, her being the most unfortunate human being that has ever crawled this planet. I assume he wanted to clear up the mystery so he called after the "You fucked her" man. And what better way to get someone's attention than by calling out his name? That's when the depression hit me. I can't tell you how heavy with sadness I was when the man left the public toilet and his last words were "Hang on. Wait up, Bonanza".

The "You fucked her" man is known by his friends as Bonanza. He is so loved and is so brilliant that his friends have a nickname for him and that nickname is Bonanza. Being quite nice and being called Michael has never seemed so dull. If only I was a right cunt then I too could be called something like "Maverick" or "High Chaparral" or "Little House on The Prairie" and one of my friends could have sex with someone and we could laugh about it while pissing. That's why I hate going into public toilets with men in them. It reminds me that I'm shit at being a man.

My favourite thing that Bonanza said amongst the "You fucked her"s was "You know you did". What was this supposed to achieve? Did the man genuinely think that he hadn't made love to her but the phrase "You know you did" made him see the light? "Hmmm...that does explain why there was so much woman on my penis that night"...

You might be thinking that it is all my fault. What was I thinking going into a public toilet in All Bar One of all places? You might be right but then I went to the public toilet at the Pleasance Theatre in Islington yesterday. A lovely, lovely theatre. The cublice door was closed with a big "OUT OF ORDER" sign on it. That's OK. I only need to tinkle. While tinkling I heard the flush in the cubicle go. It didn't quite flush properly, of course, because the toilet is "OUT OR ORDER". It flushed a bit again and then the person flushing obviously gave up. He walked out of the cubicle and we made eye contact. The look on my face was "Why did you go in there when the sign clearly says 'OUT OF ORDER'?" and the look on his face was "I bet he wants to know why I went in there even though the sign clearly says 'OUT OF ORDER'?" We never exchanged a word, just glanced at each other. The man then just said "Ah, well" and left without washing his hands.

Good for him. His shit isn't his problem, is it? That's for other people to clean up. His nickname is probably "Gunsmoke", something like that.

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* Read this and watch this

** Read near the end of this:

1 comment:

Reverend Frog said...

Another entertaining tome Michael. I can never get used to producing my old chap and urinating in the close proximity of other men all holding their penises. It screams 'wrong' on so many levels. Plus then there's always the inconsiderate bastard who feels the need to stand right next to you, even if there is ample space at the other end of the urinal, and proceeds to empty his bladder with the force of a Karcher powerhose, sprinkling the back of his victim's hand with a fine drizzle of his own piddle.