Pants - and not just what's on display here.
I was in a male toilet recently, enjoying a moment of quiet to myself, the problems of the world temporarily suspended offering a welcome reprieve from the hustle and bustle of modern city living.
Bliss.
That was, until, I felt the door of the cubicle bash open into my back accompanied by a thick, Irish brogue telling me, in no uncertain terms, to hurry up for effin's sake. Who this Effin is I'm not sure, but it seemed he was in a desperate state and I was, somehow, responsible for it.
In any case, I managed to perservere under intense pressure and finished the job at hand. I left the cubicle, scanned the room for the troublemaker and asked out loudly to all present, who it was that disrupted my chi flow?
I think I identified the culprit - a robust gentleman in his 50's, with the look of the town drunkard - as he sheepishly looked at the floor and hurriedly disappeared, like a drunk Wil o the Wisp, into an adjacent cubicle.
I digress.
In any case, I feel I need to mention something here. I worked as a cleaner once in an office. I learned many a thing about humanity because of it.
I learned for instance, that the state of a company can be gleaned by the state of it's toilets - if you have a job interview at a top company one day and you want to know if it's the place for you, don't bother with the cursory What's the company policy on.or the company philosophy? questions. No, instead, excuse yourself politely and go check out the state of the WC's.
You'll know then, just what type of people you'll be working with should you get the job.
And politeness - that charming quality that distinguishes men of greatness from the crass mass - is suspended in a male toilet.
The law of the jungle prevails: We enter a room where we cannot escape the fact that, no matter what our social standing in life is and how well our portfolio is doing out there, a mirror is held up to who we really are - a creature that has to relieve itself, with all it's indignity and vulnerability.
Messy, dirty, crowded and by Jove, smelly, I want you to spare a thought for those poor individuals who have to clean them.
Last year I went to see the Calzaghe-Manfredo fight at the Millenium Stadium in Cardiff and I was horrified.
Toilets everywhere, blocked and overflowing with human sewage - and all of this, caused by someone's husband, brother, son (a CEO here, a primary school teacher there)....
It's ridiculous I know. But it's here that one is reminded that even on the highest throne a King, ultimately, sits on his ass.
We must not forget that lesson. read more