A Public Toilet

pixies202@aol.com — Mon, 18 Nov 2002 13:53:32 GMT

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.

pixies202@aol.com — Mon, 28 Oct 2002 15:40:59 GMT

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.

pixies202@aol.com — Sat, 05 Oct 2002 01:53:10 GMT

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.

pixies202@aol.com — Tue, 01 Oct 2002 16:54:37 GMT

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

pixies202@aol.com — Sat, 28 Sep 2002 20:38:41 GMT

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.

pixies202@aol.com — Wed, 25 Sep 2002 19:43:30 GMT

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.

pixies202@aol.com — Sat, 14 Sep 2002 20:28:30 GMT

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.

pixies202@aol.com — Tue, 10 Sep 2002 16:50:26 GMT

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

pixies202@aol.com — Sat, 31 Aug 2002 23:28:57 GMT

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.

pixies202@aol.com — Thu, 15 Aug 2002 19:30:00 GMT

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.

pixies202@aol.com — Tue, 13 Aug 2002 00:54:30 GMT

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

I had a dream last night and it looked exactly like the above picture, no lie. The only thing was that the little boy was shouting these rascist slogans and the fucking beaver thingy was cussing like hell. Then they kind of realised the other was there, and they started having a conversation. The only thing was that they didn't change what they were saying, just there tones of voice. So this little kiddie says,
"We will never submit to your fascist ideals!" like he's just made a comment about the weather and the beaver goes,
"I'll pin your fucking dick to the ground, bitch!" like he's agreeing with him. Then the little kiddie hugs the badger and they both sprout huge fangs and fly through the roof.

The next time some fucker goes to puke up LSD in me I'm gonna tattoo him into the fucking earth.
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pixies202@aol.com — Sun, 11 Aug 2002 14:57:59 GMT

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

Sundays are a piece of shit, dude. I tried to take a nap this morning, succeeded for like, an hour. I guess with Sunday being the Lord's day and shit one of the main things on my mind would be fucking religion or something, but Sundays just make me so fucking lethargic its not funny.
Saturday nights, however are a whole different story. A quiet Saturday night'll get you thinking about life, the univerese and all that shit. I was just thinking about God and aliens and shit. If there was so-called 'intelligent life' on other planets. Then I guess God would have had to have made those fuckers too, and seeing as God made humans in his image and shit then he couldn't treat other intelligent life differently, what with God being fair and all that, that means he would have to make these guys in his image. But then again God can look like whatever the shit he wants, so that doesn't mean anything.
Nah, what really gets me is the thought of God having to die for all these fucker's sins on all the different planets! I can just imagine some little green man doing a shoddy job of nailing him to this cross and he's lying there going,
"What kind of half-assed crucifixion is this? The guys over at Zefron 9 could teach you fuckers a thing or two about nailing a criminal to a fucking tree. Gimme that hammer you fucking waster! I got another 3 fucking crucifixions to get through this week!"
But I got an idea about aliens. If this God fucker created intelligent life then it would only be fair that he treat them the same as us. So if we get some aliens visiting us, it would be safe to assume these are some intelligent fuckers (they built a fucking space ship) so just ask them if they know anything about this God bloke and if they don't then its all bullshit. However, the odds of a Public toilet being asked his opinion on Inter-galactic communication are slim to none, so my best chance is if they fly down in their fucking ship and ask,
"Excuse me, d'you mind if I use your toilet? I'm fucking dying to kill the king." I guess thats not likely either.
Fucking Sundays. I bet television is great on Sundays. It would only make sense that they put decent TV on on the day everybody lazes about. It would be fucking stupid to fill the TV with crap on a Sunday. Pure fucking stupidity.

pixies202@aol.com — Sat, 10 Aug 2002 13:21:28 GMT

Kings=1
Sheriffs=5
Pukers=2
Other=1

It was Garamond's birthday last night. Well, no toilet really knows when their birthday is, so they just chose a date. We always choose Friday nights cause that heightens the chance of getting someone with a high alcohol volume emptying something into you.
So the morning and afternoon pass without anything happening. I get a Sheriff, but nothing to write home about.
Garamond's quite a suave motherfucker. I don't get talking to him much, but he's kinda the old man of the group. He's 2 toilets down from me, after Ray. I don't know much about his politics, but he's an old fashioned kinda dude. He doesn't talk to much, and he's pretty uptight about keeping the rules. I don't think he's ever talked to a human. So he seems kinda proud, but not in an asshole way, but like I says, I don't get talkin' much to him.
Anyways, Friday night arrives and its 8.30 P.M. and whaddya know! This guy's looking pretty drunk, so it seems we got an early puker. Or possibly pisser. We're hoping he's going for Garamond, cause it's his birthday and if there's some booze in this one he kind of deserves it. And sure enough, he goes and pukes in Garmamond! So the drunk stumbles out and I whisper to Ray and ask him if we should sing happy birthday or something. He tells me we should all wait 'till we're a bit more drunk. He seems retty sure that we will get a bunch of pukers, but it's a Friday night and we always get pukers on a Friday night. They could puke outside, but I think they just see the toilets and it makes sense. Maybe there's something comforting about puking into a toilet.
So its 11pm, and we're waiting on rush hour. Then a bunch of drunks come in, all staggering, and it must have been the fucking synchronised swimmig team celebrating or some shit like that, cause these fuckers are all into a toliet and are away all puking. I don't know what anybody else got, but whoever puked in me had so much alcohol in them that if I'd have lit a match he would have went right up. Everyone else got a fair bit too, so pretty soon we're all pissed and even Ray is saying,
"I know we've had our differences but your a good lad. A fine toilet."
And I find myself saying,
"Your the best, Ray." Even tohugh I meant to say, "Shut up you drunken Commie fuck," but I guess its OK cause everyone's drunk and everyone's getting on stupid. Then Ray starts up with, "Happy Birthday to you.." and everyone takes it up and theres a big chorus of Happy Birthday. Seeing as we were all pissed, we weren't paying much attention to anything, and we didn't notice this guy walk in. I guess different people have different ways of reacting to hearing a bunch of toilets singing 'Happy Birthday' but this guy just slurs,
"I thought you were all outside!" and proceeds to take a Sheriff in the urinal. At this point everyone stops. And then something pretty unbelievable happens. Garamond speaks! he says,
"Hey, listen I know its your birthday..."
The guy still thinks its one of his friends so he says,
"You don't say?"
Then Garamond goes,
"But I think I should tell you something. Remember how your last girlfriend broke up with you? Remember the reason she gave?"
"She said I was too lazy."
"Yeah well that wasn't the real reason, mate. Its because she and I...well."
At this the guy turns round looking half shocked half angry and very drunk. Then he says,
"Who is that? Barry?"
And Garamond says,
"Yeah, best you hear it from me mate rather than someone else."
And the guy is raging! HE's houting,
"Don't you call me mate you fcuking wanker! I'm gonna kick this door down and kick the shit outta ya!" Then he goes and kicks Garamond's door, but all he sees is an empty cubical! He's looking very confused for a second until, with perfect timing his mates come in and say,
"Where the hell did you get to? We heard shouting whats going on?" And at this the guy turns from the cubicle and attacks one of his friends (I'm assuming it's Barry). This is great entertainment! At one point they tumble into my cubicle and Barry gets his head smashed off of me! Its pretty sore, but I'm drunk so its OK, and plus this is top-class entertainment. Now poor Barry is getting the tar beaten out of him, and eventually all this stops and Barry's lying on the ground,covered in blood and half crying, and he asks his amte,
"What the hell was that for?" And all his mates were standing shocked, not knowing what to do. One of them ducks into my cubicle to check for blood and decides to shoot the sheriff while he's there. Then the guy says,
"That's for fucking Mandy you bastard." And kicks him again in the gut. And now we're waiting for the confusion to set in, and Barry syas,
"What? How did you know?" and I can heare Ray next door trying to stop himself bursting out laughing at this, so I whisper,
"Shut up!" But its conagious and soon I'm sniggering and then everyone's going up and soon we're just all laughing our fucking heads off! The guys outside look at each other and then look very worried as they look toward the toilet. One of them edges towards Ray, and we've all managed to shut ourselves up by now. SO this guy creeps into Ray's cubicle and I can't see whats going on because he's in the cublicle, but I'ma ssuming he's having a look around. And I'm listening to try and figure out whats happening,
"I put a spell on you-ou....because your mine!" Ray stars it up and pretty soon we're all siniging! And the guys all shit themselves and run out screaming, apart from Barry who kind of limps out groaning. And then we sing happy birthday to Garamond again.

Oh yeah, I got a kinger today. But again, nothing to write home about.

pixies202@aol.com — Thu, 08 Aug 2002 02:15:41 GMT

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

Dude, a fucking empty day after yesterday's episode. Dull as hell.
Did you hear about that Cherie Blair chick having a miscarriage? Dude, thats harsh. I know Tony's a ucking Socialist and he can't even do that right, but that shit shouldn't happen to anyone. And I'm sure they're decent folk. My motto is; don't judge anyone 'till thye've kinged in you. Or vice-versa.
I guess your wondering where a throne would find ou about current events. You ever heard the phrase 'in the pipeline'? Yet another phrase you fuckers stole from us. One of the perks of having a regional sewage system is that all the toilets are connected. So, if one throne finds something out, pretty soon they all will. How do you think the world found out about the whole George Micheal incident? Dude, I read the biography of the toilet that Beverly Hills toliet that watched George getting sucked off. That throne was a fucking ass hole man, goddamn glory hunter.
The thing is though, most of the news comes form private toilets in people's houses. They're the ones with the access. Back in the old days when lavatorys still had rights, people would leave their newspapers in the bathromm so we could find out what was going on. Thats why nowadays people read when they're kinging, its kind of like a trace of the old tradition still lingering on. Nowadays, most of the news we get can be traced back to some toilet peaking over some guys shoulder while's hes getting busy with the shitting.
Anyway, fucking boring day today, dude. I was hoping for some flashbacks from that trip I had, but no luck.

pixies202@aol.com — Tue, 06 Aug 2002 16:06:33 GMT

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

Dude, did you ever hear that song Strawberry Fields Forever? Fucking wack, man. The Beatles were some prime ass rock and roll but then a bunch of pussy ass motherfuckers go and cover that song and then more people do and its like a fucking pussy ass motherfucker anthem. Dude.
Anyways, did you know Lennon wrote that song about an acid trip? That rules, man. Some fucker shot him apparently. dude, humans are fucking crazy.
The reason I got into this, is cause last night like real late some fucker comes into my cubicle and starts puking his guts up. Now usually the pukers are on weekends, and they've been on the booze so I get a little alcohol in me and that livens up the weekend. But his was on a fucking weekday and there was something different about this puke. So this fucking junkie finishes off, doesn't even bother trying to clean the puke of the fucking seat or the walls or that shit. So I'm all in grumble mood and I'm all pissed off. So I peek out the door to see if I can maybe mouth off at a urinal tray. Except there is no urinal tray its just Bruce Forsythe staring ahead blankly with his mouth opening and closing slowly and some really low distorted voice saying, totally out of synch with his lips,
"Nice to see you, to see you...NIIIIIIICE."
So I'm wondering whats going on, when suddenly the puker comes back in and I'm hoping he doesn't see Bruce Forsythe. However, not only does he see Bruce Forsythe, but he goes and pisses all over him! And I'm sitting here wondering how he'll react, if he'll deck him or what, but a huge grin spreads over his face and he starts swaying from side to side while this fucker is pissing all over him! The he grabs the pisser's hands and starts dancing with him. Its at this point that I realise all the walls have gone really dark red and purple and they're kind of melting and getting darker. I look back at Bruce and the pisser and now the pisser is wearing a three piece suit! So they're doing some gay ass ballroom dancing, and this huge orchestral sound is coming out of Bruce's mouth, even though its still moving in exactly the same way. Then I hear rhythmic chants coming form the other toilets and the doors all come off the hinges and start to spin round and round! And it seems that from each of these doors is coming the sound of a different instrument in the orchestra, and all of a suddent they're all wearing bridesmaid dresses and spinning round and round Bruce and the pisser, who are still ballroom dancing. I get the impression that Bruce is the guy and the pisser is the woman.
The Orchestra's getting really loud now, but then form inside each cubicle, including my own, I hear the steadily rising chant of,
"Oompa! Loompa! Doppadido!"
And this gets louder and louder until with a huge explosion an Oompa Loompa rolls out of each cubicle, including my own, even though I hadn't noticed an Oompa Loompa before.
So one of the Oompa Lompas goes and stands before the doors dancing around Bruce and the pisser in bridesmaid dresses.
The another goes and jumps on his head, then the other two until there are four Oompa Loompas on top of each other. The one on the top winks at me, just before the four of them become one super-size Oompa Loompa.
When this happens the doors in Bridesmaid dresses all spin into a line behind Bruce and the pisser, who have stooped dancing and are now linking arms in front of the giant Oompa Loompa. There is a kind of low resonant sound which I think is being caused by the melting walls, and the room looks dim. Then the Oompa Loompa clears his throat and starts,
"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of these two people under God..."
And I get this sinknig feeling in my stomach, like this is completely wrong and if I don't stop it then the whole world will end. Everyone is just grinnig moronically apart from the Oompa Loompa who is just solemnly reading out of his book. The reonance gets louder and louder until its hard to hear whats going on. Then the Oompa Loompa asks if anyone knows of any reason why these two peopels houldn't be joined together, and I get really panicky and start shouting, but no one can hear me! And I'm shouting and shouting, but the louder I shout, the louder the humming gets until I think I'm going to explode. Then the the Oompa Loompa turns to me with this really evil look on his face and says in the most terrifying demonic voice I've ever heard,
"I now pronounce you...MAN AND WIFE!"
And everyone turns to mr and starts laughing, and I'm so scared and I start screaming, and they laugh even louder, and I scream even louder and with that and the resonance its just so fucking loud and I'm wondring why I'm notdead yet, when suddenly everything goes quite.
I look up and a quiet bassline starts and I recognise it, and the doors, Bruce Forsythe, the pisser and the giant Oompa Loompa are all crouched over smilimg at me, clicking along to the bassline, then Bruce steps forward and stands
up and sings,
"I got chiiiiiiiiills multiplyin'..!"
And I recognise it and everything seems OK again,
"And I'm loooooooosin' contro-ol!"
And suddenly everybody looks like the cast of Grease and they're all dancing and Bruce is singing, and suddenly he points his microphone at me to sing the next line, and I smile and shout,
"ITS ELECTRIFYIN'!"
And everyone smiles and claps really loud, and I start to cry,and my vision gets all blurred, and as the picture goes away, so does the sound until its like I'm a million miles away from anywhere.

The next thing I remeber is the pisser lying face down on the floor and everythings normal again. The pisser gets up, looks around, rubs his eyes and walks off.
Dude, LSD is fucking wack.

pixies202@aol.com — Mon, 05 Aug 2002 19:24:01 GMT

How many urinal trays does it take to change a lightbulb?
Fifty; One to hold the lightbulb and forty-nine to move the room round!

Fucking whack! I got that in a Christmas cracker. You ever wonder who writes the jokes in Christmas crackers? Thats us guys. We don't get to make the toys though. Fucking Prisoners got that one. The bastards could have repaid their debt to society by cleaning roads or cleaning graffiti, but oh no they get the fucking cracker toys. Fucking harsh dude. Toilets used to get to do the jokes on the back of Penguns too, but then big Mr Mc-fucking-Vitie decides to lay off thousands of thrones and replace the jokes with ways to make your Penguin last longer, just to cut costs. Fat money-grabbing fuck.
I didn't really have the wit to write the excellent jokes you get in Christmas crackers, but only like 2% of toilets got in anyway, so I wasn't bitter.
Just fucking remember, next time someone is talking about toilet humour, its not laughing at sex or Kings, but more like a witty pun or a subtle turn off phrase. Believe me dudes, I come into close contact with Kings regularly, and there is nothing fucking funny about them.

pixies202@aol.com — Mon, 05 Aug 2002 13:55:38 GMT

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

Dude, I really should have kept my fucking cards closer to my chest. I decided that I would launch this debate with that left-wing asshole next door. So I get with the 'Communism can't survive without Capitalism' bullshit and sure enough he gets down with the global communism being the ultimate goal rap. My follow up to this was that the whole world didn't want no fucking Communism, and the only way to spread Communism was through force and the only way to build up the military was by trade provided by Capitalist countries. That shit was harsh man, it was fucking riddled with faults but I was
hoping he'd shit out. But oh no, he gets with the Communism not being based on the democratic fucking practices that the Western world is spoon-fed,and that even when the people did want Communism, the 'Democratic' Western countries try and stop democracy from taking place. Then he goes and uses fucking Vietnam as an example.
Now every asshole knows that Vietnam was a fucking harsh example but that bitch brings it up even though his arguments have more holes in them than a fucking Gypsy at the Nazi rifle club. Thankfully though, at this time some suave motherfucker comes in to shoot the sheriff in Ray. Not only does this give me time to think over my argument, but I also notice with some satisfaction, that the motherfucker next door is really rimming it, I mean he's pising all over the fucking seat. That shit is wack, dude but I couldn't help feeling a bit smug that the Commie shitter was getting pissed on. Fucking using Vietnam dude, thats low.
Anyways, so I'm about to get all into how the USSR used WWII to gain a foothold for Communist take over in Eastern Europe when you'll never guess what the fucker does? He only goes and fucking questions the reasoning behind The USA breaking their policy of Isolationism for the war! Fucking pussy ass motherfucker. So I have to go all defending the US when I could have got fucking layed into The USSR and their actions at the same period of history that he's criticising the USA in! Fucking irony dude. I guess no one ever does anytihng right, but I'm not conceding anything to this motherfucker.
I know the Cold War's behind us and shit, but it makes a good fucking topic for debate for a couple of public toilets on a Monday afternoon. Dude that shit is harsh.

Some guy changed his tie in my cubicle today. Dude, how gay would you have to be to carry around a spare tie?

pixies202@aol.com — Sun, 04 Aug 2002 16:56:21 GMT

Shoot the Sheriff: (verb) To urinate, to have the piss, to shake the shack and such like.

Taken from 'The Oxford English Dictionary' also Har har har...

I believe thats what we call Toilet Humour (Yeah! Two in one day!).

pixies202@aol.com — Sun, 04 Aug 2002 16:05:09 GMT

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

Dude, Sundays suck ass. If I wasn't still reeling from that king last Monday I don't know what I'd be doing. Sometimes we get some dumb fucking kid who spilt Ice Cream on himself coming in, but not today. The other toilets are all for taking pussy ass naps and shit, so we couldn't have any conversations. That shit was harsh, man, 'cause I was up for having a debate with Ray in the next cubical about how Communism can't survive without the commerce and services provided by Capitalist countries, and that contradicts the socialist policy of self reliance. But then I know he'd follow that up with some shit about how the ultimate goal is global communism and I haven't really perfected my argument to that one yet, so I guess its a blessing in disguise that he's sleeping. Dude, that shit is harsh. Theres nothing worse than a fucking Socialist toilet, thats fucking wack.
I was actually considering having a conversation with one of the urinals, but I kinda didn't want to break the class system. I know its kinda harsh looking down on the urinal trays, but they ain't really up to much, no lie. Dude, those fuckers can't handle their kings.

So once again, I was going to explain why I wrote the journal, but I can't be bothered. Lazy ass Sunday, you know the score. Sorry dudes, I know its harsh.

pixies202@aol.com — Sat, 03 Aug 2002 21:54:20 GMT

To Kill the King: (verb)To excrete, to go to the toilet, to take a shit. Also known as 'Kinging' and 'Taking a King'.

From 'The Oxford English Dictionary' Har har har...

pixies202@aol.com — Sat, 03 Aug 2002 21:06:29 GMT

Kingers=1
Sheriffs=2
Pukers=0
Other=?

Hey again folks. I think I got this journal shit pinned down. Dude, its harsh. Fucking greasy motherfuckers like the one I got today don't help much either. I guess I should explain to you guys what should possess a Public Toilet such as myself to write a journal but I'm gonna tell you about this Kinger I got today first.
So, its about 1pm, lunch hour on some weekday. Now, generally its pretty quiet on week days (Apart from Fridays obviously they're fucking harsh) but today some balding middle-aged business man comes in, and he's fucking sweating, I mean he's one greasy bitch. Now you can tel this son-of-a-bitch is desperate cause usually his type wouldn't touch a public toilet with a barge pole. But he's all sweating it up and shit and whaddya know? the bastard comes into my cubical. He had this wild fucking look in his eyes, you should have seen. Anyways, heres this fat sweaty asshole all needing to go and I'm thinking to myself 'Fuck, I hope he's not going for a King'. When you do that dude, your screwed, jinxing yourself. I was just asking to be Kinged in. Sure, enough the greasy fucker gets the kecks down and next thing you know he's all sitting down and shit and I was all like 'Hey get your fat ass of the throne you big kentucky fried fuck!' 'Cept I didn't say that cause its not good karma to talk to people, and most people don't believe it anyway. It never occurs to you fucks that us toilets are intelligent indiviiduals who have feelings too and while your pissing all over the seat we're all like 'Dude! Watch the enamel!" Sometimes one of the other guys'll maybe talk to some guy while he's in. Its usually some waster barfing his guts up on a friday night, and the toilet he's got his head down'll be like 'Hey dude, got the time?' Dude, that shit is whack.
Anyway's this greasy business motherfucker must have ate something nasty the other night cause this shit is bad man, and I mean bad. So he's all done killing the king, and he discovers there's no toilet roll! So he runs out to another cubicle to get some with his trousers around his ankles, and dumb fucking luck, some other guy walks in just as he's out! The odds of that happening are slim to none man. You can see from today's credits that we only had 3 visitors today. Dude, no one Kings in public anymore.
Anyways, that story may seem inane to you, but it was the talking point of the whole fucking mens room today. Us toilets don't get much to do anymore, and we lost the vote back in 1920 so we can't even vote in another fucking government with our numbers. Dude, the British National Party might be a bunch of braindead bigots, but I sure am hankering after that taking funding from Equal Rights Commission to give to us folks.
Anyways, I was meant to tell you why I started a journal but I couldn't really be assed now. Take care.

pixies202@aol.com — Fri, 02 Aug 2002 19:27:44 GMT

Still trying on my wings here, folks. Christ, you'd think toilets were born writing the way you fuckers are winging. And we would be if it wasn't for the fuckin' welfare state. Bleeding heart Commie bastards.

Soon as I get my wings there'll be trouble. Us toilets take a lotta shit you know.