Men's toilet etiquette: what is wrong with so many men?

Brendan Bendar wrote: »

Probably covered in ‘arse latticework ’ and tipped down with the toe of the shoe rather than handled.

And you are correct about the behavior not being income or class specific.

Student friend of mine doing some hotel work checked the bogs after a ‘posh ‘ wedding.

Three of them plus one in the ladies were ‘Topdecked’ and a large log like King Kong’s thumb was resting on the bog roll holder in another.

Luckily most cisterns are hidden these days.
Terrible stuff.

I was at a wedding myself before Christmas, Brendan, and can confirm that they appear to bring out a more 'primal' side to some people. Typical rural wedding - red-faced lads in Dunnes Stores suits horsing into the pints in a pub across the road from the church before the ceremony had even started; some fûcking animal let a 'Helena Bonham' go that would strip paint off a trawler just as the priest was conducting the marriage rites, almost a crush at the counter once people heard there was a free bar for an hour - etc etc.

Anyways it was about 8PM, and I needed to visit the facilities to 'park the breakfast'. I was taking my time as the beer was beginning to kick in, and I had just spent the previous hour sitting beside some tedious kent rambling on about caravan holidays in France. My time of peace and solitude was ruined though by some lad heading into the cubicle next to mine. Heard the sound of him dropping the kecks, perching on the bowl, letting a loud sigh go, then he 'disengaged the airbrakes', set the 'cabin crew doors to manual', and uploaded a bowel full of loose 'yobble' in about 5 seconds flat. Followed through with a chuckle and a 'string of pearls'; then I could hear him breathing heavily.

I finished my ablations and left the cubicle in disgust. Washed my hands and turned around to head to the hand dryer. There was your man, cubicle door open, fast asleep, with the suit trousers around his ankle, and his peg pulsing out piss every time the belly expanded as he breathed out. In fairness, he wasn't seen at the reception for the rest of the night, and the rumour was that his missus made him sleep in the car that night.

What is wrong with these people?

Feisar wrote: »

Ablutions is the word. However other than that top class, reading this thread I was wondering when you were going to pop up.

Ablutions is the ritualistic act of washing oneself. Ablation is the removal of material from the surface of an object by chipping or another erosive process. Like you would remove dangleberries, winnets, bead curtains, kling-ons, clinkers, or miniature heros using rough and abrasive 2-ply ‘art degrees’.

Similar words, so can see how confusion might occur.

Brendan Bendar wrote: »

Correct John, well described, a friend of mine got a belt of the ‘Chalfonts’ and couldn’t be too vigourous when attending to the balloon knot

A fair crop of Arse raisins and arse spiders built up over a week or two.

Eventually had to resort to getting his partner to spray the area with a medical lubricant which dissolved the build up and could be cleared with a wet wipe or damp dishcloth.

Lad is grand now you’ll be glad to hear.

Can be dangerous if the arse afro is badly tangled and you have to let go of a "jack the ripper". A free waxing while dropping off the kids at the pool, tres painful.

JohnnyFlash wrote: »

I was at a wedding myself before Christmas, Brendan, and can confirm that they appear to bring out a more 'primal' side to some people. Typical rural wedding - red-faced lads in Dunnes Stores suits horsing into the pints in a pub across the road from the church before the ceremony had even started; some fûcking animal let a 'Helena Bonham' go that would strip paint off a trawler just as the priest was conducting the marriage rites, almost a crush at the counter once people heard there was a free bar for an hour - etc etc.

Anyways it was about 8PM, and I needed to visit the facilities to 'park the breakfast'. I was taking my time as the beer was beginning to kick in, and I had just spent the previous hour sitting beside some tedious kent rambling on about caravan holidays in France. My time of peace and solitude was ruined though by some lad heading into the cubicle next to mine. Heard the sound of him dropping the kecks, perching on the bowl, letting a loud sigh go, then he 'disengaged the airbrakes', set the 'cabin crew doors to manual', and uploaded a bowel full of loose 'yobble' in about 5 seconds flat. Followed through with a chuckle and a 'string of pearls'; then I could hear him breathing heavily.

I finished my ablations and left the cubicle in disgust. Washed my hands and turned around to head to the hand dryer. There was your man, cubicle door open, fast asleep, with the suit trousers around his ankle, and his peg pulsing out piss every time the belly expanded as he breathed out. In fairness, he wasn't seen at the reception for the rest of the night, and the rumour was that his missus made him sleep in the car that night.

What is wrong with these people?

Ah jaysus Johnny you have me creased!:D:D:D

Highlight of the boards day is Johnny's posting style

awec wrote: »

The sounds are the main reason why cubicles are awful. Sometimes if I am using a cubicle, if there was someone beside me who I found particularly repugnant I will deliberately wait before finishing up for them to leave the bathroom, because ignorance is bliss.

That said, the americans have it worse. Way worse. Their cubicles may as well not exist, big gaps between the cubicle and the wall, the door etc.

I was standing washing my hands at a sink over there once when I noticed in the mirror that due to the angle of the mirror and the angle of the cubicle in relation to it, as well as the large 2/3 inch gap between the cubicle and the wall, there was the perfect reflection of some guys arse while he was mid-**** sitting on the pot.

Correct Awec, was in a pub in Myrtle Beach after playing golf up in Lions Paw NC.

Was starving,and our fourball were tucking in to a feed of Wings and pitchers of whatever horsepiss they serve there.

Was a Sportsbar and in ‘mid wing’ saw a heavyweight interior lineman build type waddling into the bogs.

Door left open, into the trap,the bottom of the door was at four feet off the ground.

Tried to ignore but the fcuker lowered the tartan shorts and, I can only imagine, left a load of wing butter in the pan.

You could hear the fcuking exit, like a holt of otters going in off a bank.

Yanks in our party took no notice!

Bogs in the bars in the States are challenging.

JohnnyFlash wrote: »

Lions Paw? A course beloved of high-handicap cab drivers when in the MB area.

No John, top of the range course just over the border into N C

http://www.northmyrtlebeachgolf.com/golf-courses/lions-paw.html

Eh, you think men are the worst for occasionally pissing ON the seat until you've had the misfortune of sitting on a seat that a woman has somehow managed to piss UNDER.

Not a nice feeling to sit down on what appears to be a dry toilet seat only to have moisture seep out from under it

I worked in pubs and hotels for a few years after leaving school and I've seen a lot. Off the top of my head here's one of the worst.

Anybody who knows North Tipp will remember the big shopping centre on the Dublin Rd. There was a pub at one end that opened from 10am - 7 pm. The majority of the customers were husbands having a jar while the wives did the shopping. The toilets served the bar, restaurant (I'm being kind) and the rest of the complex so were generally open to the public. I opened up one saturday morning with a mother of all hangovers and the place was fairly busy. About lunchtime a woman came to the bar and said that there was a mess in one of the ladies cubicles.

I ran in, took one look and puked up the last three pints of stout that I'd drank less than 12 hours earlier. There was slurry on the painted block wall behind the cistern, the cistern itself and the raised seat. it was still flowing slowly down the inside of the potty and hadn't reached the water. There was still steam coming off it. She must have taken off her shoes and socks, stood on the bowl and let rip at the wall.

Luckily cleaning toilets wasn't my department. I rang maintenance and it took 4 poor teenage lads 2 hours to get it presentable. My heart went out to them.

Chatting with the boss a week later and he reckoned because of a big turnover of staff in the shopping centre it was probably someone he had sacked in the past and narrowed it down to three. No CCTV in them days. More's the pity.

Brendan Bendar wrote: »

Correct Awec, was in a pub in Myrtle Beach after playing golf up in Lions Paw NC.

Was starving,and our fourball were tucking in to a feed of Wings and pitchers of whatever horsepiss they serve there.

Was a Sportsbar and in ‘mid wing’ saw a heavyweight interior lineman build type waddling into the bogs.

Door left open, into the trap,the bottom of the door was at four feet off the ground.

Tried to ignore but the fcuker lowered the tartan shorts and, I can only imagine, left a load of wing butter in the pan.

You could hear the fcuking exit, like a holt of otters going in off a bank.

Yanks in our party took no notice!

Bogs in the bars in the States are challenging.

I know the type, like the f*cker is trying to kango up the water out of the bowl.

Brendan Bendar wrote: »

Like a George Foreman Grill.

Dripping like a rusty cement mixer.

sligojoek wrote: »

I worked in pubs and hotels for a few years after leaving school and I've seen a lot. Off the top of my head here's one of the worst.

Anybody who knows North Tipp will remember the big shopping centre on the Dublin Rd. There was a pub at one end that opened from 10am - 7 pm. The majority of the customers were husbands having a jar while the wives did the shopping. The toilets served the bar, restaurant (I'm being kind) and the rest of the complex so were generally open to the public. I opened up one saturday morning with a mother of all hangovers and the place was fairly busy. About lunchtime a woman came to the bar and said that there was a mess in one of the ladies cubicles.

I ran in, took one look and puked up the last three pints of stout that I'd drank less than 12 hours earlier. There was slurry on the painted block wall behind the cistern, the cistern itself and the raised seat. it was still flowing slowly down the inside of the potty and hadn't reached the water. There was still steam coming off it. She must have taken off her shoes and socks, stood on the bowl and let rip at the wall.

Luckily cleaning toilets wasn't my department. I rang maintenance and it took 4 poor teenage lads 2 hours to get it presentable. My heart went out to them.

Chatting with the boss a week later and he reckoned because of a big turnover of staff in the shopping centre it was probably someone he had sacked in the past and narrowed it down to three. No CCTV in them days. More's the pity.

Wonder what diet the woman who did this was on?