Last night, in the middle of a particularly witty anecdote, my sister suddenly shouted, ‘Oo gotta go – Matty needs a pooh,’ and rang off.
As neither of her sons are called Matty I was left perplexed as to just who she was entertaining – A strange moment, and one that got me considering all things lavatorial…
…Public toilets: a vast untouched wealth of potential marketing where captive (and often drunk) audiences gaze deliriously into space; seeking entertainment, but instead finding uninspiring porcelain.
Two of the bars in Reading (where I live) take an interesting approach to urinals – One has a perplex covered photo of route 66 that invites you to see how far up it you can pee; the other features an array of bikini-clad women holding tape measures and meat cleavers whilst laughing maniacally and pointing down at your sorry genitalia.
Why not place laminated adverts there (I hear you cry).
I ran this idea past a work colleague who offered to lend me his personal laminator.
‘Who on earth buys a laminator for their own personal use?’ I demanded to know somewhat ungratefully.
The person in question went bright red, prompting my mind to conjure all kinds of hitherto unthought of deviances.
Random aside: Cheers to Simon at ‘Cape Town Capers’ for adding me to his blog roll – by far the tallest Stella-drinking .net developer I’ve ever met, and no doubt ecstatic about being mentioned at the end of a passage concerning bodily functions!