Don’t read on the toilet, you idiot

Alfred Nobel was a twat for not inventing the brush container lid/splash guard

Having been away from office life for a blessed sweet while, I have recently returned in order to once again afford the luxuries of life such as 2-ply toilet paper and toilet brushes with fancy plastic splash guards.

Which allows me to segue neatly into ‘office outrage #1′, in which I will rant pointlessly about something at work that annoys me, but that nobody else on earth cares about at all.

Man-bitch topic #1 – Magazines in the loo

The men’s loo at work has a pile of magazines on the window ledge above the cistern traditionally reserved for air fresheners and dead moths.

I’ve never understood this nonsense.

It makes me livid.

I want to chuck the magazines into the bowl and do a big sloppy dump all over them.

Firstly, any object entering a man toilet is immediately contaminated and unfit for handling thereafter.

Secondly, who has the time or inclination to read while taking a shit? Just focus on the jobbie at hand, get it done, and move on. Ooh, but wait, I could delay the act of defecation by reading an article on growth in the real estate sector!

Cock.

At what point do you think, ‘Now I’m really glad to be having a shit, but I feel like something’s missing – Of course, Dan Brown’s latest page turner!’

And if you are a grubby little loo-reader:

1. Do you sit, bowels straining, sphincter clenched, reading debt reduction tips?
2. Or do you let rip, evacuate, and then sit poring over Danish furniture design with filthy unwiped ass?
3. Or do you shit, wipe, then read? And if so, why not just entirely divorce shitting from reading and flick through your mag while leaning with dignity against the wash basin?

Furthermore, I had a curry last night and need the dunny now. Oh, wait, my brilliant coworker is leisurely reading about how Tom is unsure how he should tell his new girlfriend about his genital warts. Don’t mind that I am feeling more discomfort than this man.

Moreover, why, in the name of all things Holy, would anyone allowed to move freely in the general population want to handle a magazine previously handled by any number of shit-stained fingers?

Have they not experienced or heard of the human tragedy known as Tear Through? This is when your inferior brand bog roll fails in essentially its only responsibility and your digits plunge through into the inner circle of Hell that is your dirty bumhole.

Finally, if you are going to insist on being a total cunt, how about at least having a little more literary variety than 7 back issues of Top Gear Magazine.

Nobody fucking cares about cars. And anyone who does has a deformed penis.

We all watch Top Gear because the show’s writers are funny, and in the hopes that Clarkson will yet again get in massive trouble by going the blacks or the gypsies, not because of the cars.

Conclusion: The only acceptable use for literature inside a toilet is when you’re out of paper.