An Englishman in New EnglandWork like no-one's watching, dance like you don't need the money, and hurt like you've never been loved. |
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Stalled Negotiations
<great vengeance and furious anger>
Why then, did you feel the need to ensure that when I am engaged in one of the more private bodily expulsions, I can see next to me another man's crumpled trousers and skidstained underwear dancing around his hairy calves? Did you think it was funny to force strangers to be able to hear each other's every breath, every grunt, passage of gas, buttock adjustment and occasional mumbling? Was the "make the walls a ruddy great foot-and-a-half off the ground" design consideration over your head, carelessly passed down from on high by the great toilet-stall tycoons of the late 19th and early 20th centuries in a bid to scrape a few extra bucks into their corpulent bank accounts?
- Walls touch the floor. ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS! - That goes double for doors - impatient fuckers will simply need more patience; they do NOT need to be able to watch my feet as they shift nervously and turn inward with the strain of defecation. - Soundproofing. Specifically these stalls must be proof against the sound of poo coming out of someone else when I'm trying to poo myself - it's like a disgusting fecal version of 'Simon Says'. Don't ask me for the mechanics, just do it. - Wet wipes to stop the attack of the Cling-ons. - Musak. Helps us really feel it when we say "This music is shit!" - Butlers. English ones. And they must all be blind, either from birth, or you can do it in the job interview, I don't care. - Non-stain bowls; anal roadkill smeared around the bowl from an unsuccessful flush is just not cricket. |