3. R&R-Toilets
R&R-Toilets by Andrew Guthrie-Dow
Why toilets? Its part of my Anglo-Saxon culture which I can’t discard nor escape-from. It’s always there in the background, an ancestral imperative which is both inexplicable (though I will try) and just plain-weird. Instead of ignoring or pretending I’ve moved on, here I attempt to analyse and explain this strange cultural phenomenon to those unfortunates not to be of Anglo-Saxon origin. This is confronting one of my/our demons on an epic scale; an act of absolution to the world.
Firstly, is this even true? Do we Anglo-Saxons really have a toilet hang-up? Copious evidence is available, so let’s start with the “Carry-On” films. For those unfamiliar with this series of cultural masterpieces (i.e. outside of the UK, and for some unfathomable reason, India), these are 20th century comedies boasting some of the greatest actors of their day. Take for instance, “Carry-On-Up-the-Khyber” where the late, great Kenneth-Williams plays the grand Khasi-of-Kalabar. For the uninitiated, “Khber” is Cockney-rhyming-slang for “Arse” (“Khyber-pass”, get-it?), and Khasi is slang for toilet. And for those who have no idea what “Cockney-rhyming-slang” is, I can only recommend Wikipedia.
Which brings me naturally onto another strand of evidence. In English-English (i.e. Anglo-Saxon English) “Khasi” is slang for a toilet, as is “loo”, “bog”, “crapper”, “throne”, “WC”, “lavatory”, “closet”, “gents”, “ladies”, "privy", "latrine" … The list goes on-and-on. When I once asked an American if they had similar words, the answer was mostly a “no”. After some extreme thought he came-up with “John” and “Bathroom” – pretty pathetic don’t you think? I’ve never asked a French person or a Russian the same question (who would), but I bet you the answer would be the same – a pained look. Perhaps this is similar to the (discredited?) epithet accorded to the Inuit when it comes to snow, where supposedly they uniquely had over fifty different words for it.
So perhaps the Innuit give us a clue as to what is going-on here. In their harsh environment they needed short, sharp words for snow-types; phrases like “fluffy-but-not-sticky” would just tire-you-out. Did our transition from hunter-gatherers where you could “drop-a-load” pretty-much anywhere, to farmers and permanent-residents of an area where this would be dangerous health-wise, propel the importance of a toilet to the top of our agendas, and in particular for Anglo-Saxons? Or was it more a cultural thing; other tribes focussing on music and culture where instead we extolled the virtues of a “really-good-crap” before going-out and fighting our neighbours. I think we can all agree more scientific and historical investigations should be undertaken on this fundamental question.
Now let’s go all-historical, and start with the Roman toilet which tried, but failed to supplant our native and much-loved hole-in-the-ground. Apparently Roman toilets were communal affairs, where the good men-and-women of a community could sit-down together to do their ablutions. As toilet-paper had not been invented, brushes were used to aid in the business. Not only that, but for really up-market venues a toilet-slave would be on hand, armed with a brush to help you access those difficult-to-reach bits. I’m no right-winger, but I often wonder if we should try to revive Roman toilets in the modern era. Replacing the toilet-slave by a minimum-wage starter-job would provide an ideal opening for a school-leaver or student (i.e. starting from the bottom before working your way up).
Actually, this does remind me of the loo-keeper-role Marvella and encountered in the sex-clubs and raves of Amsterdam. At some of the events there would be someone, usually of a female disposition, guarding the entrance of the toilets. To gain admittance to them would cost you, if my memory is correct, two euros. For that you would be accorded two sheets of loo-paper. Two-sheets, two-sheets? What-the-fuck can you do with two sheets? That’s barely enough for a marmoset! A friend of ours told us that the going rate for a nightly sessions doling-out toilet-paper in this way was one-hundred-and-twenty-five euros, so not a bad evening’s work (this was back in the 90’s). My only reservation about this employment was the physical collection of the euros from all those slimy-hands (ugghhh…), but perhaps contactless payment is now de-jour, at least I do hope so.
Let’s move forward in time from the Romans to the times of Edmund-Ironside, son of Ethelred-the-Unready (don’t you just love these Anglo-Saxon names), who suffered a “misfortune” while on the toilet. In these days toilets were little more than a wooden structure over a hole in the ground. The misfortune was that an enemy-Viking supposedly hid in the lower section and fatally shot the King with an arrow from below. This ancestral memory still chimes with us Anglo-Saxons today, which is why I still check the toilet-bowl for Vikings before I relieve myself. I can only recommend others do this also.
An additional reason for checking the toilet-bowl are snakes. No, I haven’t lost it entirely. For years I’ve seen the occasional news story of some poor unfortunate going for a crap to be attacked from below by a snake. Being a sophisticated-idiot, I assumed these stories were urban-myths – do you seriously expect a snake to navigate upwards from a sewer. Through all those bends, to end-up in your toilet? But I was missing the point, the snake didn’t come up from below, it came in through the open-door of the toilet and found itself a very nice place to chill-out and relax in a kind of bath. What would you do as half asleep, some giant beast sat over your hideout and started shitting on you? I’d bite, wouldn’t you? This occurrence is not restricted to some far-off heat-hell-hole of a country, as that nice Mr. Perkins next door keeps them as pets, and he’s just forgotten to put the lid back on their vivarium. You have been warned.
However, the merit of checking the toilet-bowl after relief is debatable. On the pro-side are the health-brigade who claim that inspecting one’s stools is an essential part of healthy-living. This is of course aided if a continental-style toilet is used where your poop first drops into a holding area before the flush consigns it to oblivion (i.e. to the sewer). Personally, as a guide to health, I prefer to use the healthy acoustic-feedback of each individual stool as it plops into the water, as opposed to the continuous-whoosh of a “Mexican-Mega-Drop”. The choice is yours.
On the con-side are us ex-psychonauts whose hallucinogenic-experiences strongly suggest against looking at your own faeces as they tend to morph into something very-alive and very-unpleasant. This is best described in Aldous-Huxley’s book “Fifty-Things-Not-To-Do-On-Acid” (sadly now out-of-print), his less successful follow-up to the publishing-sensation “The-Doors-of-Perception”.
Where am I now? Yes, more on the dangers of toilets, especially “SUDS” (sudden, unexpected, death-syndrome). Its time to explore that most famous of toilet-deaths, the all too predictable demise of Elvis-Presley. Much has been written on this subject, so I will try to keep my contribution short and effective. After uninhibited diet of hamburgers, fried road-kill (chipmunks and the like), and prescription-pills, all washed-down Coca-Cola, the inevitable happened to the 350-pound (158-kilogram) Presley; he burst. More scientifically he suffered “polypharmacy” – death by over-prescribing, causing heart-failure.
I won’t go into the autopsy too much, only to say it is likely that he had not successfully relieved himself for four months. Although the body was not actually sitting on the toilet when found, in all likelihood he fell forward while trying initiate a bowel movement, the strain of which caused him a fatal heart-attack. Sad, but it does offer an innovative marketing opportunity.
I propose with modern virtual-reality equipment the public can share an immersive death experience, where groups of twenty people can respectfully crowd into that Graceland bathroom and relive that final performance, with full 3D visuals and surround-sound quality audio. Each showing should last approximately ten-minutes, so for a ten-dollar supplement that’s one-thousand-two-hundred dollars an hour, of twelve-thousand dollars for a ten-hour day. A nice little earner. For those with a stronger-stomach, a follow-on recreation of the autopsy could likewise be shown for an additional ten-dollars. Optional psychological counselling would be on-hand if required.
Not wanting to explore this too far, but there is a whole genre of unfortunates who have died on the toilet. Think Edmund-Ironside was a one-off being taken-out by a Viking from below? Well think again. There were also Godfrey-IV (Duke-of-Lower-Lorraine) and Jaromir (Duke-of-Bohemia), both assassinated by a spear thrust from below. In the mould of Elvis-Presley there was Arius-the-Ascetic who exploded on a public toilet in Constantinople in the year 336, and my favourite unfortunate death, that of Aaron-Henderson, crushed by a bulldozer while using a Portaloo (think twice before using one of these if construction work is going-on nearby). The list goes on-and-on, just look it up on Wikipedia if you don’t believe me. It seems toilets are very dangerous places and should be avoided.
Moving-on, we finally come to a time-based thread in terms to toilet-evolution. We’ve done Roman toilets and skipped-through ones from the middle-ages. Let’s now quickly “do” the industrial age. Here ceramic-toilets first came into mass-production and use, and some of the remaining Victorian toilets are style-marvels, and remain fit-for-purpose after two-hundred-years. Fine, branded toilets such as “Thomas-Crapper”, "Armitage" and “Shanks” and many others were shipped throughout the empire. This was the zenith of Anglo-Saxon toilet-culture.
To the present-day and rise of the Japanese-toilet. Usually this is portrayed as an over-development, and used to reflect on the strangeness of the Japanese. Why-else would you need a programmable-toilet, with inbuilt, vibrating-rim, and I believe personalized music playing while you crap. I came across this first during a business-trip in a micro-hotel in the Akihabara district in Tokyo (where the maid and cat cafes are located), and was duly intimidated by it. For God’s sake, the instructions were in Japanese-Kanji! I could never get the rim down before it automatically recovered to the upright position, and was too embarrassed to ask for help.
But I’ve now had an epiphany. I and everyone else have got it wrong. The Japanese toilet is a masterpiece, a design-classic of the present-day. But taking things forward, I know we can do better, and enter a new technology of toilet development; AI (artificial-intelligence). Surely, we can design and manufacture an AI-powered toilet, with “Bum-Recognition” that can automatically identify you as you sit down, and initiate a personalized routine.
The AI-algorithm would learn your preferences in terms of rim-vibration, soothing or dramatic-music, automatic scent dispensers, all driven by your bowel-movements. There would be a wide-screen on the door opposite playing coordinated video shots of glaciers gently calving, or if constipated, perhaps repeating explosive volcanic ejections could be shown and heard, with each one synchronized with your own.
Short and individually-targeted advertising slots would cut-in between movements, unless you had signed up to a premier advert-free channel. This would be backed-up by an automatic poop-analyser where the results would be automatically forwarded to your doctor or emergency services, and the national health-database updated for the common good. Truly a novel “YouTube” experience for the 21st century, and one I believe could underpin a second golden-age for Anglo-Saxon crap-innovation.