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A Public Toilet's Journal

18th November, 2002. 1:45 pm.



OK, two things have happened since I last checked in with you suave fucks. One, a King. So fucking boring. I got one King in the past... whatever. Dude, no one likes to King in public any more. No fucking respect.
The second thing was that, the guy didn't flush the King, so I had to spend two weeks in its presence, then some guy comes in and I'm thinking 'great, this guy'll flush before he gets going.' But no. When, it became clear he was in for the long haul, I started to time him. He stood there laughing at the King for 2 minutes and 7 seconds after I started timing, and I started timing roughly 30 seconds after he started laughing. I guess maybe I'm not so susceptable to the humour seeing as I come into frequent contact with Kings, but are they really that fucking funny? After standding there laughing at this King for a couple of minutes, the moron goes and Kings in one of the urinals. So, not all bad then.

Make Notes

28th October, 2002. 3:40 pm.




Yo, fools! I won't do a list as I haven't updated in ages. Unfortuanetly, there ain't no crazy ass reason for it.
Have you ever been a public toilet? Its not so interesting. Maybe the odd celebrity will Oh-king in you, or maybe some guy will die, but on the whole its not so good. Thats why we invent inane games like 'see who can do absolutely nothing for the longest amount of time'. Me and Ray had an excellent game. Not that it was very eventful, but it was still top quality. Nothing happened for the first week or so, maybe a couple of sheriffs and an above - average King, but on the whole it was no trammo extreme. Then, one afternoon some guy comes in with a box. He sits down on me and carefully takes off his crappy little office shoes. He places them on the 'toilet-roll', and then opens his box. Theres another pair of shoes which I'm guessing he's planning on putting on. However, around this point, his stomach gets a-rumbling, and the trousers are round the ankles and he's going king extreme. Its not too bad though, and theres not too much so I keep perfectly still. He then stands up to reach over to get the bog roll, but of course his shoes are in the way, so he takes them and puts them on the toilet lid. Then its arse wiping time. I must say he's very thorough aboot it, and doesn't even realise that he's knocked his crappy ass shoes into me. He doesn't realsie this in fact, until he has just pulled the chain. Then he starts panicking, but not as much as I am. Having King flushed down you isn't too strenuous, but having a pair of shoes flushed down you is fucking aching. Now I would have thought that this bloke wouldn't be too bothered aboot losing these shoes if he was replacing the, but oh no. He goes absolutely fucking mental. He starts booting and pulling and everything. I am in extreme pain from the shoes, and this is not helping, but I grit my teeth and bare it. He seems to give up after a minute. But he forgets his other shoes, running out barefoot. 30 seconds later he comes running back. I thought he was coming to get his shoes, but no, he has a huge big fucking rock! I wait till he's smashed me once before I shout,
"Will you fucking leave it your shoes are in the fucking sewer now swimming with the kings so fuck the hell off!" which of course he does, very fast. So thats how I came to lose the competition, and Ray is still fucking gloating about it.

Make Notes

5th October, 2002. 2:40 am.





  • Kings=0
  • Sheriffs=1
  • Pukers=0
  • Others=1... I suppose


Holy motherfucking hell. This morning I woke up and...fuck me. The first thing I did (after screaming) was call Ray.
"Hey Dick?"
"What?"
"I...uh...are you...fuck."
I must have just woken him up cause he sounded pretty pissed. However, I gave him a few seconds to wake up a bit more. Then he screams,
"Holy fucking hell! Lord motherfucking preserve us, the world's ending! Are you...fuck me!"
"Does that mean you are too?"
"Yuh huh! Who would do such a thing? Are you completely..?"
"Like a fucking whistle! What kind of fucking sick bastard would clean a toilet?"
"I'm fucking shining!"
"Some dickface Janitor must have come in last night while we were asleep!"
"Its fucking inhuman!"
"I want to die!"
All the shouting wakes Garamond up,
"Morning fellas whats all the...HOLY SWEET FUCKING JESUS!"
Toilets are not meant to be clean. What kind of stupid dick cleans a toilet? For Christ's sake! All the stuff thats too filthy to stay inside your body gets dumped into us! All the fucking Ammonia in your sheriff which would poisin you if you didn't get rid of it! All the fucking bile in your puke, why do you think we have chains? Nobosy wants to see that shit because it is filthy! You dump all you rfucking filth and dirt in us and then you clean us?!? Lord give me strength...
Surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. The world has gone crazy.

Read 1 Note -Make Notes

1st October, 2002. 5:50 pm.



  • Kings=0
  • Sheriffs=0
  • Pukers=0
  • Other=0


Wow, October. I wish I could say that October is toilet month but its not. There is no National Toilet Month, that would just be stupid.

Main Entry: reg·i·cide
Pronunciation: 're-j&-"sId
Function: noun
Etymology: Latin reg-, rex king + English -cide -- more at ROYAL
Date: circa 1548
1 : one who kills a king
2 : the killing of a king

Make Notes

28th September, 2002. 9:20 pm.



  • Kings=1
  • Sheriffs=3
  • Pukers=0
  • Others=1




I woke up to an arsehole this morning. What on earth would possess someone to be up at 0930 on a Saturday morning, never mind commiting Regicide?
Ok, but last night was a fucker as well. Friday night, we often get the drunken group coming in to have a manly Sheriff together as you know. So last night, in come the lads and one of them comes to shoot that bad boy in yours truly. He's your typical lad o' th day, aboot 20ish, gay hair, gay face and gay mass produced gaywear. So he's all sheriffing and when he does he grins like a cunt and calls to his friends,
"Here! Lets nick this bog!" and then proceeds to try and wrench me out of my sockets! I'm absolutely horrified! This fuckers trying to steal me and there's nothing I can do about it! So he's wrenching and grunting away and one of his fucking friend comes in with his bottle of W.K. I'm extremely hard and I take it up the ass D laughing like a moron and starts to help him! ANd they're both bent over sweating and grunting, and I'm starting to feel the strain, when one of them knocks into the other.
"Here, watch it mate (m8)."
"Or you'll do wha'?"
"I'll knack your cunt in mate (m8)!"
Then of course they realise they're being foolish and stop being hard beacause they have absolutely no reason to and they look like absolute pricks. Oops! I mean they're a couple of braindead retards and I get the pleasure of watching them beat the tar out of each other while their 'm-8s' stand around and laugh like morons. Thankfully, one of them puts their bottle of gay juice to good use and smashes the other guys face with it. There's a particularly nasty gash, so the freinds do the right thing at this point and run away to leave him to bleed all over the toilet floor. This means I have the added pleasure of getting to watch one of the dickheads who tried to steal me bleed out of his face for two hours, while I note with extreme pleasure that his wound is touching a floor which has seen just about every bodily fluid possible and then some. It's about 4am before he grogily wakes up and screams in agony before vacating the facility and giving me some peace to get to sleep.

Make Notes

25th September, 2002. 8:13 pm.




  • Kings=0
  • Sheriffs=0
  • Pukers=0
  • Others=1


You guys ever heard of Neil Diamond? Well, fucking Ray is a big fan, so today was probably the best day of his life.
Today, Neil fucking Diamond comes into our toilet. He just walks in all casual, not even super star like and saunters up to the mirrors. While the sleazy fuck is adjusting his wig, he starts whistling 'Sweet Caroline'! I mean, how fucking gay is that, whistling your own fucking song in the bathroom? What a dick. Anyway, I can hear Ray next door making a noise like a fucking kettle with aids trying to contain his excitement, and I don't want to curse at him in case that old dick outside hears him so I just wait it out. He certainly takes his fucking time, the dick. By the time he's fucking adjusted that furry piece of shit on top of his fucking loathsome head, Ray has had the time to whisper to me all the name sof the Neil Diamond albums, the keys he favours in his songs and the fucking virtues of Neil Diamond merchandise and how he's making a statement with it rather than making money. I told him I was making a statement by calling him gay.
After this brief exchange, old Diamond fart head decides its King time. After a noisy visit to Ray's stall, he flushes the poor sod and smarmily vacates the buiding. I say something like that to Ray but with more expletives, but he didn't say anything back. The I realised how he must feel, I'm sure he was devastated. There is absolutely nothing worse than getting kinged in by your idol. Ray was practically crying. I would be crying to if I had that disgrace's arsehole on me, but he was practically in love with the cunt. I think I might go easy on Ray for the next few days. I told him to shut his fucking bowl hole that at least he konw what a fucking dickface the wanker was, and he won't waste any more time listening to the bastard's music.

Make Notes

14th September, 2002. 8:47 pm.




  • Kings=0
  • Sheriffs=0
  • Pukers=0
  • Others=0


Seeing as nothing is happening in my world at the moment I guess the following occurence counts as a big event.
Ok, so today is Saturday and its the night out night kinda shit. So this guy comes into the toilet all trussed up to the nines, he's got the whole motherfucking gettup gone, and he's doing the whole gay-faced Fonz thingy. He's came in to shoot the Sheriff, and when he's gone Ray says,
"That dude had it going on."
After I finished laughing he said,
"No seriously, did you see hte style of that suave motherfucker? He was harsh."
I responded with an enthusiastic,
"You dick." However, he still went on so it seemed he had a theory.
"Tell me this, who was the most stylish person in history?"
"Fucked if I know you Dick. I'm a public toilet."
"I think we should get shades."
"What the fuck?!?"
"Nah, think about it. I was thiking about the main differences between humans and toilets and it came to me; sunglasses. Aren't you tired of being pissed in? How come they never give toilets shades?"
"Cause we're indoors all the time you fuck."
"Nah, its a conspiracy mate. Have you ever seen a human being get pissed on?"
"Yeah."
"Well... I bet he wasn't wearing shades at the time."
"No, and I bet he wasn't wearing fucking leopard skin bollock warmers at the time either, what the hjell is your point?"
"Fucking hell, its not as if we have anything better to do. Lets just try this as an experiment."
"Go to hell."
Incidentally, I think Ray is part Irish. So, throughout the course of the evening, several dudes are in and out and shit. Incidentally, none of the come into my cubicle, which, according to the law of averages is fucked up. Eventually, another fucking Fonzy fuck comes in and heads for Ray's. Ray waits until he's riding away on a big King before he announces,
"I am the ass man! Set your shades on the top of the the latrine in a stylish manner and you will meet no harm!"
The guy's probably too terrified to realise that I'm laughing like hellfire, and the next thing I see is him running out of the cubicle, shadeless, keks round the ankles and his little Fonzy dick looking as petrified as he is. The best part of the evening however came when the bloke was away and Ray, tried his Fonzy impression. His
"EEeeeeyy!" was met with an unanimous,
"Dickhead" from all involved. Oh wait, no that wasn't the best part of the evening. The best part was when Ray's theory that his shades made him too cool to be kinged in was completely denounced when some pisshead stumbled into his cubicle in the wee hours and Kinged all over the fucking show, getting it all over the fucking walls and just about causing the most horrendous stink in the history of Royalty. When Ray got over the trauma and then decided to stop sulking, he insisted that it didn't count as getting kinged in cause hardly any of it actually went in the bowl. He didn't talk to me after I asked him how much of it went on his excellent shades. What a dick.


Make Notes

10th September, 2002. 5:49 pm.





  • Kings=0
  • Sheriffs=1
  • Pukers=0
  • Other=0


Howdy folks. Not much happening. I don't think I'll be posting tommorow, but during your one minute silence I just want you to think how many toilets there were in those buildings.

"If you kill one king its a tragedy, if you kill five million kings, its a statistic."-Joseph Stalin


Make Notes

1st September, 2002. 12:13 am.





  • Kings=0
  • Sheriffs=0
  • Pukers=0
  • Other=1


Ok, well you may have noticed I've been a bit quiet for a long time. I... well listen to this. I don't really have a good idea about time and shit so sorry.
So this old guy comes in about lunch time. I think it was a Thursday. He has his paper and he comes in and sits down, all ready to king. So I'm all preparing myself and shit, cause even Public Toilets don't like to be kinged on. He's reading his paper when suddenly he lowers it slowly and drops it. This is pretty odd behaviour, but nothing to write home about. So I wait a while and he still ain't getting with the kinging.
Two hours later I'm starting to get worried. I don't want to say anything in case he hears me, but after 12 hour I say to Ray,
"This guy's been on me all day." and Ray just laughs at me. I guess it is pretty funny.
After a week though, it ain't. Nobody discovers him because they just see an 'engaged' sign on the lock thing so they ain't asking any questions, its just another guy kinging. I begin to lose track of time after this, and the guys aren't too supportive. They find it hilarious. Ray did tell me though that a few of the patrons were a bit curious as to the smell of rotting meat, but if there's gonna be strange smells anywhere, it'll be a public toilet.
I'm pretty sure I started to go insane. Things kind of happened and didn't happen it was odd. I do remember one day all the toilets were full and someone was going around banging on doors, kinda very desperate to king. Luckily, it was my door he decided to break down. He didn't actually realise that the guy was dead until after he'd pushed himm off the toilet and kinged his fucking brains out. The odd thing was, I noticed, thta he was more calm about finding a dead body than he was when he was needing to king. He just kind of prodded him about and said, loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear,
"Uuuuh, I think this bloke is dead."
After a while the police come, theres lots of coming and going and boring shit.
So thats why I haven't been writing recently. Don't be too harsh guys. You don't know how hard it is to maintain a journal with a 140 lb dead guy sitting on you. Or...maybe you do.


Make Notes

15th August, 2002. 8:13 pm.




  • Kings=0
  • Sheriffs=1
  • Pukers=0
  • Others=1


Had another argument with Ray today. It wasn't about politics though this time around, which makes a change. Y'see, the way it works when your making your tally of Sheriffs and Kings is that when someone kings they generally Shoot the Sheriff as well, so you're only meant to count that as a King, rather than a King and a Sheriff. Now I got no qualms with that shit, but Ray says that today my list should only read as a Sheriff and an 'Other', rather than one of each. But I think its both cause this guy Shot the Sheriff and wrote some graffitti on the cublicle too. The graffitti was news enough cause it read that 'Barry Lvs Lisa.' Dude the amount of graffitti on my wall about this Lisa bitch makes for some good reading. From what I've read, this Lisa is a very loveable chick. Anyways, the thing is that Ray thinks I should just count this as one occurence, but I don't see how the shit Shooting the Sheriff has anything to do with writing up graffitti. So fuck Ray, I got a Sheriff and some graffitti today, and it ain't no fucker's gonna tell me any different.

Make Notes

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