<*dv_0*> Toilet Boy lurks everywhere. When night falls and the streets grow dark, Toilet Boy descends on his unsuspecting victims. He wraps you in his sweaty, sweet smelling embrace and yells his trademark battle cry:
Freshen UP for da ladies!
Theres a Toilet Girl as well, I dont know this because Im in the habit of visiting the ladies loo during the course of a night out, I know this because Toilet Girl has been in the papers. Well come to her a bit later. Yep, thats who Im talking about: the helpfully irritating (or should that be irritatingly helpful?) chap who expects you to give him a quid for a squirt of soap and a bit of gum. Over the last few years, Ive noticed these individuals in increasingly large numbers. Where as you only used to see them in happening London clubs, you now see them everywhere. Even the grottiest pub in town now has a Toilet Boy, and it was this particular Toilet Boy who ignited the fire in my belly. I dont enjoy going to cheap, tacky boozers at the best of times, but when its someones birthday who am I to say no? No one, that's who. As it was, Id stopped noticing the myriad pikey wannabes after my third vodka, and I was actually enjoying myself before my night was brought crashing down to earth by Toilet Boy. The little dicknose didnt take too kindly to me being able to wash my hands all by myself (therefore not needing to give him any of my hard-earned) and decided to pick me up on my personal hygienein the middle of a crowded mens room! How fucking rude is that? I pointed out that maybe the reason I didnt want any of his cheap, shitty aftershave was because I didnt want to pull any of the minging birds that were circling downstairs. He went very quiet, I went to the bar, ordered a tequila and fumed. Im not one of those blokes who sorts things out with his fists, so I decided that the best way to deal with Toilet Boy would be to rubbish him and his kind. Honestly, what is the point of Toilet Boy? Surely even the thickest mongo, out of his head on eleven blue WKDs, is capable of washing his own hands after taking a leak, and if he doesnt want to then fine - let him wipe piss on his jeans. Surely anyone who wants to smell like a tart is capable of splashing aftershave/perfume/Domestos over themselves before they hit the boozer? Doesnt everyone have their own chewing gum? In most cases the answer to those questions is a massive YES!. Surely then, the answer to What is the point of Toilet Boy? is a huge THERE IS NO POINT BOOGER! Youre completely right, again! I know Im right, but thanks for playing along. Obviously though, not everyone is as wise and knowing as you and I. Because, in case you hadnt noticed, membership of the Toilet Boy/Girl Union is growing. Theyve got a toilet attendant every fucking place I go into! Why? Like so many other things in life, I just plain dont understand the point. Who benefits? The bar? No, because surely they have to pay a minimum wage to these poor lost causes. Us, the paying punters? No, because we have to pay a quid for a tissue and, if were lucky, a Chuppa Chup lollypop. Toilet Boy? Of course not, he has to put up with drunken arseholes pissing on his shoes for seven hours. No one benefits from them being there, they just ARE. And Jesus Christ, are they a distraction or what? Its bad enough trying to take a leak without making eye contact with the drunken, sloping-browed psychopath next to you, but now you have to tolerate Toilet Boys sub-Del-Boy sales pitch. I recently heard the following exchange while trying to expel three pints of Kronenbourg:
Toilet Boy: Freshen UP for the ladies!
Twat #1: Fuck off.
<*dv_1*> TB: Towel for you sir? Some haftershave?
Twat #2: Gimme them.
With that he took two bottles of aftershave and used them both at the same time. Must have smelt like a prostitutes handbag. How are you supposed to piss in peace with that sort of lunacy going on around you? Easily my worst encounter with Toilet Boy was when I was out in Richmond one night. I legged it to the bogs just as the bar was closing up, all of my friends were outside on the street. The music was off and the bar staff were cleaning up. As I pushed open the door to the gents I saw that I wasnt alone. Toilet Boy was there. I then endured the most uncomfortable two minutes of my life ever. You see, while the tunes up in the bar were off, down in Toilet Boys domain they were still being piped through the speakers. So I had to piss while this huge fella sung along to Move Your Feet by Junior Senior, in the most off-key voice ever, about two feet behind me. Then, still very mindful of the fact Toilet Boy might try and touch parts of me he had no right to, I had to go through the Freshen UP! rigmarole again. I made damn sure I grabbed a Chuppa Chup on my way out. I dont actually hate Toilet Boy though. I sometimes feel a little sorry for him. Ive seen Toilet Boys step in and stop fights, and Ive then seen them get a slap for their troubles. Ive seen Toilet Boys have their supplies stolen or wrecked. I overheard a Toilet Boy in Brighton tell someone he comes from Peckham every night to work. Who in their right mind would make that journey for a tray full of shrapnel? Shit, I dont know about you but I wouldnt walk a hundred yards to hold paper towels out for drunken wankers all night. Like Ive said, its not like they cant do it themselves. This is why I can understand, although not condone, the most famous Toilet Girl of them all. If, among your normal clientele of drunken slappers, you spotted a famous singer, wouldnt you try and wind them up? Maybe just a bit, a lot if they tried to steal your lollies without paying.. So I can kind of sympathise with Sophie Amogbokpa, the toilet attendant that Cheryl Tweedy from Girls Aloud laid into. But I can also understand where Cheryl Tweedy may have been coming from that night (and not just because shes got a great rack and I'd say anything to make her like me). Ignoring the whole ugly racist part of the story, who hasnt once also wanted to lamp a rude or pushy toilet attendant? Me, up until last Thursday night. I bet youve all been wound up by them at some point. It is hard to feel sorry for their plight ALL of the time. Because what kind of person gets over protective about a plate of Orbit chewing gum? Basically, theres absolutely no point in having them. They piss off the punters and the punters piss them off. But I dont want to put legions of Toilet Boys/ Girls out of work (Im not that nasty), so Ive come up with a plan. You see, I have noticed how the bars that have toilet attendants are always really busy, so I reckon get them out of the bogs and BEHIND THE BAR. Surely they serve a better purpose pulling pints or mixing Mai Tais than they do tossing out towels or guarding the Giorgio. If it makes anyone happier, give them some lollypops to carry around while they serve the drinks.
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