...against talking in toilet cubicles. Against talking in the gents altogether. I say "in the gents" because my female readers may have a different perspective on this, at least if we're to accept that old "women always go to the loo in pairs" cliche. I don't know, maybe powdering one's nose is more pf a social function if you're a lady in the ladies. But in the gents, I really must insist on silence.
As I've probably mentioned before, I don't use urinals. I'm not getting into all the different reasons why right now, but if I'm about my business in a cubicle I really don't want to be disturbed by conversation. There are four kinds of Men's Room Conversation, and I frown upon them all equally...
1) Talking to your mates. Blokes who choose to converse over the urinals, or, worse still, between stalls often use such opportunity to demonstrate the very worse traits of our gender. They make lewd, sexist or even racist remarks, take the piss out of each other's shortcomings, or scrape the barrel with a fart joke. There is a place for everything, but by my reckoning only one fart joke in every hundred is actually funny, the other 99 are just crass and unnecessary. Just like bragging in the boys' bogs.
2) Talking to small children. I understand that accompanying your scrappy urchin to the lavatory is an unpleasant necessity for many parentals... but not in the cubicle next to mine, puh-lease! There's something rather squalid about hearing an adult encourage their youngling to go poopy in a close, confined space. Or is this just me?
3) Talking on your mobile phone. God save me from those people you hear enter the loos, proceed to a cubicle, unbutton and relieve themselves, rebutton, flush and exit (without washing their hands) while maintaining a telephone conversation the whole time. And I do so pity the poor fool on the other end of the line.
I suppose I have to include the future Doctor Who Christopher Eccleston in this rule, who I once discovered having at lengthy conversation with his agent in the cubicle next to mine at The West Yorkshire Playhouse. Maybe he wasn't actually using the loo. It's feasible he'd just ducked in there for a private chat away from gawking, starstruck members of the public... but it still put me right off my game.
4) Talking to strangers. Unless you're George Michael, or you're engaged in similar interests, I can't imagine any good reason for attempting to strike up a conversation with a total stranger in the shrine to scatology. Gregarious strangers are annoying in normal, everyday circumstances... in the gents, they're downright disturbing.
OK. Rant over for today. You can go about your business now. Any comments you might want to leave, please write them on the cubicle wall. I'll read them later. Or leave your phone number so we can have a chat...
