Potty time

At around about the age of 2 I was introduced to a delightful receptacle known as the potty. I can’t remember the time really, but I know that that basic training put me in good stead for using the toilet. As a lot of my tutelage in such matters came from women I still prefer to use the cubicle rather than a urinal, something many of my male friends scoff at and mock me about. Yet I am, relatively recently, now able to choose which receptacle I want to use though 75% of the time the cubicle wins.

Now, I realise that the basic family unit of the 1970’s (mum, dad, siblings & pet cat) is somewhat different to today’s family unit (mum, mum’s partner, estranged father, estranged father’s partner, step and paternal siblings) but surely that should be no excuse for the way I perceive things going in the noughties. Indeed, one might argue there is no excuse for such behaviour in any generation (except maybe physically or mentally disabled people), but there really is no excuse for pissing all over the seat and the floor.

You see it was instilled in me from an early age that the appropriate urination techniques are as follows:

Ensure toilet seat is in upright position
Undo fly
Take out willy
Aim willy at bit of porcelain just where it meets the water (so as not to make too much noise)
Shake (more than two is classed as a wank)
Put willy back
Do up fly
Wipe any spillage with tissue
Put used tissue in toilet

Some may argue that I should also have included “Lower seat” in between “flush” and “leave” but it reminds 50% of the public that men stand up to do their weewees.

However, it has come to my attention that in the age range of say 18-25 there is a distinct lack of appropriate toilet training. Rather, I believe some mothers would prefer their male offspring train themselves and instead of castigating them for piddling all over the seat simply wipe it up for them because in their eyes that is what mothers do and that telling their male off-spring off for pissing all over the place might cause them to become closet homosexuals or golden shower fetishists.

Today, I entered the male toilets in the College in which I still work so that I might perform some ablutions. My first “doh” was the puddle of liquid on the floor in which my trailing shoelace was now lain soaking. The second “doh” came because some oik had decided that pissing all over the seat was more appropriate than careful aim. Tissue, soggy tissue, lay all over the place and the cubicle smelt like someone had been drinking haddock juice or at least had a really bad urinary infection. Simply, there is no excuse for such behaviour. Especially at the age 16-19, which most of the boys here are. I dread to think what their homes are like.

Author: stegzy

Once, long ago, I wrote frequently on Livejournal. I then moved to Blogspot, where I discovered that blogging requires an audience. So I moved back to LJ. Then over to Dreamwidth, back to LJ, up the road of self hosting with Muckybadger before giving up entirely and moving over to Wordpress. It was at that moment I decided I would spread my compostual nonsense simultaneously across the blogosphere like some rancid margarine. And so here I am. I am a badger. But then I'm not really a badger. I am a human. With badger like tendencies. I am a writer, a film producer and a social commentator. I am available for Breakfast TV shows, documentaries and chats in the pub with journalists where I am more than qualified enough to talk confidently about absolute shite and bollocks.

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