It’s not the most pleasant of subjects, but I was so upset at the heinous condition of the female public toilets at one of my former workplaces that I had to let out the frustration somehow. Cue angry rant disguised as poetry…..
Men more so than women, I’m very sad to say,
behave in what could be described, in an animalistic way.
Their arms and legs, their backs and ears are covered in coarse hair,
and coupled with bad tempers, liken them to grizzly bears.
Their manners may be boorish, some have the brains of fleas,
and those infrequent shower-ers smell like a troupe of chimpanzees.
Though as beastly as a man can be, imagine my dismay,
to discover women win “paws down” in a mighty disturbing way.
The female public toilets are a horrid, heinous sight,
where beneath closed lid is nothing more than paper covered shite.
The stench that permeates the stalls can leave you short of air,
and burn every single bloody strand of your precious nostril hair.
Cans of Glen 20 sit untouched atop the porcelain pail,
as though the previous pooper thought its use might break a nail.
I wish that I could plaster signs upon the toilet doors,
to let these harpies know just what the ‘specialist’ equipment’s for.
The toilet brush ain’t there just for its looks or for aesthetics,
it’s a vital tool to help with your latrine-based butt athletics.
So between the sexes I’m ashamed to tell just who will win.
For the prize of Worst in Show the women simply “shit it in!”