Why is it that when in London Town checking out a wealth of medieval history
that the only way one can relieve oneself of ones own bodily water is to
do it the medieval way? In these sad days one can become totally unstuck
in the best of times. Even the most proudest of places declare 'Access
Denied' on their facilities, leaving the distressed traveller in a
state of dire straits. Often theres nowhere. Nothing at all. Nothing
available for the bursting tourist in desperation. Then sometimes there
maybe provisions of such grotesque inadequacy or indecency that one finds
that matters in hand may be inoperable.|
But it hasnt always been like this. Sure, it was yet again those resourceful victorian ideologists that gave London its drains and sewer systems, as well as a cavalcade of public dispensing units that would facilitate ones personal offload in the most satisfying of experiences. These multiple convenient convenience strategically frameworked London with its most delicate of emergency services, with a clean compiment of equipment, and the secure presence of a resident attendant. It was worth every ounce of the penny well spent. Yes indeed, it was a very dignified affair, usually conducted underground, amongst polished brass and tiles, and the smell of hydrochloric. Then one would ascend to street level, renewed, with a spring in the step, ready for anything.
Nowadays, most of the great Public Lavatories of London have been closed. With no real replacement. Its awful. The only places one can sneak into are mostly cess pits of manure. Its all a trait of trendy animalism, no doubt. Recent excuses for rest rooms include the 'Superloo': An automated free standing toilet usually situated in crowded areas, Or the Urinal: A sort of Parisian vagrancy act of fouling the footpath. Neither efforts belong in civilisation, and are an insult to the people. Especially the Superloo, a death trap amongst bathrooms, these robotic fiends have an electronic door that may open onto the public gaze mid-flow; or even worse might trap you forever; but the killer option must be its timed cleaning programme, which has the capacity to bleach blast the trapped occupant in error. These instruments of torture should be should be confined to the dungeon where they belong
Wherefore art thou Public Bog? We desperately need the return of this essential part of our day to day infrastructure. But the inhumane cutbacks have ensured that we all suffer unless we can secure a place to withdraw. Its such an insult to be provided with the occasional obligatory contraption, and a joke to attempt to use it. I've even heard of unisex urinals in the offing. Ladies all in a row trying to crouch over a big bowl. I can't believe it. What the hell next???
Well, here's what the hell next. Here is London's destruction at it's greatest. London, formerly the centre of the world's polite and dignified society, has now been forced into the low euro standards of public indecency. Yes folks, the Street Urinal. It's 2003, and around town, as the evening wears on, smelly urinal blocks hydraulically rise up from the pavement. I've seen these in action, as London's lowlife stand in full view of ladies and relieve themselves, officially. This legalised vagrancy is one of the most ghastliest sights i've seen in London, the perfect example of how we now have to suffer degrading acts copied from non civilised Europeans.
Charles (of London Town)