Money in Loo
Going to the loo in any busy pub or club is never an appealing task. There’s the inevitable queues, the sick and pee covered floors, the overpowering stench and of course the biggest obstacle of all; the toilet attendant. A person so hard on their employment luck, so desperate for a quick quid, they will stand in this squalid environment selling things that we don’t want through the medium of embarrassment. I hate these lolly and perfume peddling piss fetishists with a passion.
The toilet arena has been an untapped market for so long for good reason. Most people want to get in and out pretty sharpish. We don’t want to pay a pound for a squirt of Faecal Love by Calvin Kline, nor do we want to feel obliged to pay you for handing us one of your paper towels which are no better than those already provided for free! We don’t want to be hovered over as we piss. You think men don’t have enough toilet challenges with the likes of urinal shyness and penis envy to have to add the worry of some potential perve excitedly waiting for us to finish?
It’s got to the point now where I won’t wash my hands after weeing just to avoid these bastards. Yes, they might look down their nose at me in disgust but at least I don’t answer the question ‘what industry do you work in?’ with the answer ‘piss’.