Toilets around the world pt75 – The Park Plaza Hotel Eindhoven

For some reason, everyone who lives in Holland is freakishly tall. I am worried that on a visit to The Nether Regions, all Facebook Chairs will therefore so tall that that I will feel like a potty training toddler, thankfully this is not the case. Weirdly, while this is a fairly wide stall, it is quite shallow, my knees are right against the door.

Predictably in the birthplace of a large lightbulb manufacturer, considerable expense has been lavished on the lighting. While the light fittings are stylish, the mood lighting does not put you in the mood for unloading a batch of cigars. Thankfully, on my next visit, some strong Dutch coffee does.

As reviewed by

Walter Closet.


Toilets around the world pt74 – A flight of fancy on the KLM

As I stroll down the aisle of the aquamarine Boeing, a white man in a turban beckons me to walk through a door. I see a golden throne awaiting me, so I sit down on it’s pleasantly cool seat. While I am dropping the clogs and contemplating the abstract art on the wall, I spy a magazine rack in reaching distance with among all things, this weeks Autosport. The classified section is as absorbing and life affirming as eating a fridge chilled Mars Bar after taking Valium. Time stands still in this oasis of bodily relief. Eventually, I flush with a cistern full of Old Spice, wash my hands on soap as creamy as a Mancunian beer brand, with the scent of reminiscent of tulips and Jefferson Airplane. I dry my hand on the fluffy towel given to me by the tame purple swan toilet attendant. Quite the……….

(Due to KLM canceling three flights on me in a day, I flew with BA instead. An air hostess opened the door of the toilet for me and the soap smelled lovely. It was nothing exceptional, but unlike the experience above, it actually happened! If you like pretty blue planes and gormless customer service staff but don’t like flying, KLM is the airline for you. If you want to fly from Heathrow to Amsterdam, try British Airways.)

As written by,

Loo Reed

Toilets around the world goes west pt12 – Hotel Abri, San Francisco

San Francisco is a place of extremes, extreme wealth exists mere blocks away from extreme poverty, Cable Car Kolsh is served in the same bars as Bud Light!

In the world of conveniences, these extremes are also apparent. The privy in my room is a clean, pleasantly decorated and well lit place. In contrast to the facilities in other places in this land, the bowl is of a pleasant height and does not look blocked. Good quality toilet paper is complimented by an inoffensive and pleasant soap. In comparison to the facilities in San Francisco International Airport, ( this powder room is is quite wonderful.

As reviewed by Donald Trumping

Toilets around the world pt73 – British Airways Airbus A380, somewhere over Greenland

After a meal of feta salad, cheesy pasta, cheese cake and cheese and crackers (well done BA for understanding that vegetarians like variety in their meals), I am in need of a visit to the conveniences. Locking the door behind me, I realise I am in near total darkness. As slow as an 11 hour flight passes, the lights brighten up the room and what I see a very little little boys room in. While doing my thing, I am struck by the contradiction of this privy. A tiny convenience in the worlds largest airliner, a toilet that will not flush the last users toilet paper despite having power from four huge engines outside. I go to wash my hands, but where there should be soap is a button to drain the sink.

A confusing and contradictory experience.

As reviewed by

Sir Frank Widdle

Toilets around the world pt72 – A pub in Essex.

As a lady, I enjoy reading magazines full of adverts for clothes I cannot afford and articles that make me hate my appearance. After reading several of these publications in quick succession on a snowy March day, I resolve to start working on my summer body now. Because I am too poor to employ a personal trainer (have you seen the price of a magazines these days) and like eating food too much to try anorexia, I begin to research alternative ways to lose weight. Per chance, I come across something called Dieters Tea, a magical weight loss drink from the exotic lands somewhere east of Clacton. It promises to give me as many bowel movements as a bout of gastroenteritis, without the misery of two weeks paid leave. Rather than sticking a finger down my throat, I am sticking two fingers up at the body shamers!

Confident that the magic of the orient to give me a body like Jessica Alba, I go on a dinner date and indulge in deep fried cheese, tiramisu and other artery clogging foods knowing that I shall not wake up tomorrow looking like I I have swallowed a hot air balloon. Unfortunately, as I walk to the station and a train home, the Beast From the East begins to stir in my nether regions. At first, I hear a growl like an angry bulldog in mating season. I try to mask the sound but world stands still. Every sound and every movement seems to cause a reaction, it feels as if someone is having a fireworks party in my bowels! I get the train and contemplate my awful dilemma. Should I to use the facilities on the train and subject the fellow passengers to a chemical weapons attack that Basir Al Assad would be proud of or try to hold it in until I get off? Either way, I know this situation will not end well. My short train journey feels like a trip on the Trans-Siberian Railway, but somehow, I manage to leave the train with some of my dignity left.

As luck will have it, I spot a pub opposite the train station and the friendly bouncer seeing the look on my face takes mercy on me and informs me I can use the ladies powder room. I sit on the throne for five whole minutes as the contents of my bowels make their dash for freedom. To someone else, this may be a pub toilet, but to me, it is paradise. Sadly, my zen like bliss is interrupted by a loud knocking and a lady informing me that “Babes, if it’s not coming out, don’t force it. Just get off the loo so we can have our go”. While I would like to be able to give a poetic repose worthy of this fine online journal, all I can reply is “It’s not the not coming out that’s the problem. It’s the not being able to stop it”. My offer to clean the facilities after I finish is refused by the lady who charmingly tells me to “just get out, we’ll manage.”

I take the hint and finish my business as quickly as I can. I perform some per functionary cleaning, but this only seems to make matters worse. As I exit the pub, I see a large queue of ladies wishing to use the privy and resolve to run away as fast as Paula Radcliffe. However, as she likes to do her business in the street, this is a poor analogy.

As reviewed by Lena Cable

Toilets around the world pt71 – My home is someone’s toilet.

At a time of day when only bad people are awake, I am awoken by a neighbour informing me that his flat has been flooded. As I go to answer the door, I realise my flat has been flooded too, as my nose awakens I realise my flat has been flooded by the drains. Desperately I try to mop up, before I realise every time I pour something down the drain it will flood back in to my flat before I can utter the words ‘Stop going to the toilet you upstairs bastards, you are pissing on my floor’.

Time to call the insurance people.

As reviewed by Loo Reed

Toilets Around the World pt70 – Somewhere in the Home Counties

As a man of a certain age, I have hair in places where hair should not be and think most modern music is ****. Speaking of bowel movements, a journey on the M25 does funny things to the nether regions of the middle aged, so on arrival in the Home Counties, I have a desperate urge to use the conveniences.

Fans of the facilities reviewed in Toilets Around the World pt58 will appreciate the colours of the wall and floor tiles, it also smells lovely. However, the toilets are far too low for a British bottom. Moreover, at 0810 in the morning, someone has already left bodily fluids on the toilet seat. The, the sink is the shape of a urinal (albeit at an odd height for a urinal), this may lead to confusion. Despite three soap dispensers being available, there is no soap in any of them. This meant that your reviewer had to wash his hands in Fairy Liquid from the kitchen and has dry skin as a result.

As reviewed by Loo Reed

Toilets around the world pt69 – The Piano Works, London

To ‘celebrate’ the fact that the offices of The Corporation are moving out of London, The Corporation has organised a work night out in the aforementioned city. Thankfully, the Piano Works is celebrates the best parts of London such as it’s diversity and I get in to the spirit on things by drinking beverages from Italy, the Czech Republic and the USA in quick succession. Sadly the spirit of UKIP invades me like a particularly malignant cancer and I feel I must remove the diversity from this body of Albion so I head to the little boys room.

The room is well lit and because it is only early, clean. Inside the urinals, I find a goal with a ball attached to it. For some this may be an amusing pun, but for my part I feel sorry for the child who has to do without their Subbuteto set. One has to wonder what childs toy related puns are awaiting those who use the ladies powder rooms.

As reviewed by

Ronnie Weelan

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