Today I had to use the facilities at work. I am very regular and had been this morning, but this was a top-up poo, or poo number 2. I hate going at work for various reasons. Normally I like it to be a “surgical strike” like these bombing missions you see against ISIS. Get in, line it up, get out. From the feel of what was loaded into the bomb bay it was going to be a “bunker buster” anyway. But the College bogs are horrible. A nasty enclosed space, no windows, no proper ventilation and some weird thing that goes bleep and delivers a microscopic quantity of some fragrant pong every now and then that cannot cut through the accumulated fug of several peoples bombing runs. So, desperate as I was I had to go. I had thought I was going to get away with it as I had been letting out some in gaseous form and nobody in the staffroom had actually keeled over asking for oxygen, but no, it was time for the bombing mission. So what do I find to set things going? A floater, eeuw! Flush that then stuff some paper down to alleviate splashback, and would you know it, instead of a surgical delivery like those old films of U-boats launching a torpedo (turdpedo) its a Klingon! I then had to use about 200 metres of the rubbish bog roll they supply which is in pieces far too long, but not wide enough. This requires origami skills to fold and tuck such that it should not be possible to defile one’s hand, but it takes work. Then, of course, the bog is blocked when I flush, with the water ominously rising towards the lip as the water goes in, but luckily a second flush sent it all on its way for processing where I hope enough methane can be generated to run the National Grid for a couple of hours. Then there is the debacle of trying to wash hands. Two of those stupid spring loaded push down taps, one freezing, one scalding, no plug. Run the water and try to build up enough in the sink as it gurgles away to wash hands with the addition of some foamy stuff out of a squirty thing. Three goes at rinsing because the foam seems to not mix with water. Then the useless hand drier thing that screams so loud you can hear it three corridors away but delivers air like an asthmatic vole and keeps cutting off unless you jiggle your hands like a mime artist on speed. Apart from this it wasn’t such a bad day at work.