Dip all your money in the toilet.

( I read over this before posting. Best put your drink down, there are things that might cause keyboard damage in here. I nearly did myself and I already knew what was coming)

Some months ago, there was a swearage problem in Local Shop. It was actually a sewerage problem but it did result in some severe swearage.

It started at the end of my shift that day. The next guy had just taken over. I like to leave things safe so had made sure the public toilets were well stocked with arsepaper and hand towels. Well, Next Guy went off to check the bogs while I got ready to leave. He came back and said there were no hand towels in the gents.

Now, those dispensers in there hold three full packs of hand towels and when filled, do not run out in twenty minutes even if the Big Hand Society all get the squits at once. Anyway, it was time for me to leave so I assured him I had filled the dispensers and set off to buy whisky.

The mystery was solved shortly afterwards. We had been visited by an OCD handwasher who, instead of putting hand towels in the bin immediately below the dispenser, had flushed them all. He was later caught and told never to darken our urinals again, but I wasn’t present for that part.

The bogs are often stuffed with arsepaper, usually shortly after 4 pm when the schools let their virulent disease-ridden charges loose, but that is a temporary problem. Arsepaper is designed to fall apart when wet so all you have to do is wait a while and it will disintegrate. Hand towel paper is not designed to fall apart when wet, it is needed for more than one wipe. It sets into a cellulose plug some way down the pipe, especially when three full packs go down there at once.

(Incidentally, if I ever open a shop of my own, there will be a shelf labelled ‘arsepaper’)

So the drains backed up most severely and there was, not to put too fine a point on it, shit everywhere. More than we are paid to deal with by a long chalk. I found out next day that they had to call in Drain Man with his very thick rubber gloves and industrial strength nose pegs.

The problem was swiftly solved but it did close the cafe for that evening (you cannot have a cafe if you can’t provide toilets, and ours were in the state where if you sat on them and flushed, they would ram more up than you had put down).

Even so, this kind of event is rare. I have not, in 18 months, found a real bog body although I did once find a drunk asleep with his trousers round his ankles on the disabled toilet. He had been asleep in there for so long that the auto-light had gone out and that lasts almost an hour. I thought I’d found a dead one and when he woke, I wished he had been. A more gitty git from the gittiest part of Gitland would be hard to imagine.

Then there was the porn star in the ladies. She must have been. She had left us one of the Unflushables and if she can get something that wide and long out in one go, she must surely have been in a lot of those films. As my father would definitely have said in the recent non-PC past, it was like a black man’s dick. For those who want to be offended, you might want to consider that any man of any colour would not be at all offended if his dick was compared to something that big. There are horses who would be flattered. That woman’s arse is probably listed in some caver’s almanac somewhere and there might well be a few guys with torches on their heads still lost in there.

I digress (surprise!)

Back to talking toilet. Ours are sprayed with disinfectant every hour, as are the taps, door handles and pretty much anything you are likely to touch in there. Nobody ever catches anything in Local Shop toilets. Nobody. Ever. We don’t need no litigation. Oo, there’s a song in there somewhere.

So it is no surprise to find that, once again, the Daily Crap has found something that is dirtier than a toilet seat. Our Local Shop ones are as close to sterile as it is possible to get wirthout burning them. You will find more bacteria on the ceiling than you will on the toilet seat, because I can’t reach the ceiling.

What they have found this time is… money. Filthy lucre. It’s disgusting, it is covered in bacteria and much of it has been handled by smokers. I am still, as a public service, labelling mine as such.

The Mail is shocked that we do not wash our hands after handling money. We wash our hands after shitting, so why not after handling money? It might have something to do with the natural proximity of a sink to a toilet, whereas it is rare to find hand washing facilities at the tills. This is something that I must convince all shops to urgently address.

It might also have something to do with the fact that while there are more bacteria on any bit of money than on a toilet seat, there are more on your fingers than on the money so the actual level of risk is below zero.

It is all just to drum up support for the new plastic money. I don’t care what money is made of as long as I can buy whisky with it. How disease-ridden it is has no relevance when you are handing it to someone else. Nothing grows in whisky so you’d be trading something potentially deadly for something totally safe. I see no  problem here.

What is the big deal with plastic money anyway? I remember pound notes – hell, I remember ten shilling notes – and when they became coins nobody cared. They were still worth a lot less than they used to be anyway, might as well make them out of plastic too.

The Germ Terror will also hasten contactless payment and the eventual implanted chips. Those new plastic notes will not be germ free, in fact as they will be handled often they are certain to have more bacteria than a toilet seat, which, in the Houses of the Normal, is rarely handled at all.

Toilet seats, properly cared for as in wiped down and kept looking clean are probably the least contaminated things you will find in daily life. Everything has more bacteria on it than a toilet seat, including the buttocks it supports. The ones the buttocks leave behind the behind won’t last long on dry plastic.

Somewhere down the line, and not too far in the future, we are going to see the wonderful headline ‘Money costs the NHS money!’

Several drone brains will explode trying to take this in. I only hope I get to see one.

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21 thoughts on “Dip all your money in the toilet.

  1. Your toilet cleaning tips have, as your liver knows only too well, saved me a veritable fortune this last year or so and have also meant that my weekly evening-of-not-being-able-to taste-anything-having-cauterized-my-sinuses-with-bleach-fumes are a thing of the past. I have gone from ordering 2-3 bottles of bleach from tesco a week to 1-2 bottles a month!

    If you really wanted to help Humanity you could start a separate blog …”Legirons Secret Ninja Cleaning Tips” or ” The Auto Riders of Saniteria” or “Quick N Dirty Dirtlessness”…something like that. Not only how to clean but the science- in words of 2 syllables or less behind it.

    I was brought up to believe that “The Devil Hides In Dirt, WIcked Child!” and that by someone herself raised and trained by someone who started her life as a cleaner ‘in service’ before going on to reach one of the highest ‘Housekeeping’ positions in the Kingdom (ie head Housekeeper at the official residence/weekend hideaway of one of the Great Officers of State). I thought I knew something about cleaning until your tips.

    And anyways you’ll find writing articles about DESTROYING DIRT and BACTERIAL GENOCIDE will no doubt inspire new horror stories.

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    • It’s interesting to consider the modern burble of the scientists.

      They claim that the rise in things like asthma and other diseases-without-a-cause (bacterial or viral causes, that is) are due to our modern excessive cleanliness. Playing in the dirt gave our young immune systems something to practice on.

      And yet… we were scrubbed raw with carbolic soap and Wright’s Coal Tar Soap which used to contain real phenolics but which is now only coal tar flavoured.

      Everything was bleached, not with the modern safely diluted stuff but with the sort of bleach that can turn your hands skeletal in minutes. No child proof caps either.

      You cannot buy the stuff Granny bought now, not without being investigated as a terrorist.

      So really, it’s not modern cleanliness that is causing the problems. We don’t have access to the Chemical Death Juices of granny’s day. We just have the diluted versions. Oh, they still work, but they won’t burn you down to the bone like the old stuff.

      I have some stuff at work that is supposed to be for removing chewing gum from the floor. You can’t buy this for home use because druggies will use it to get high. We don’t use it for chewing gum – we check the floor once an hour so can remove gum with a pocket sized scraper before it gets a chance to set in.

      Yes, people do drop chewing gum indoors. I had never realised, before this job, just how utterly disgusting some people really are.

      The stuff is excellent for taking off those dropped stickers that, once stepped on, intend to stay on the floor forever. It just dissolves them.

      Thirty years ago you could have bought it in a shop, but not now.

      So what is causing all the problems with modern kids? I suspect a combination of hermetically sealed doors and windows, no coal fire/chimney to draw air through the house, and an overblown fear of Gary Glitter that makes parents keep their kids indoors all the time.

      We’re not cleaner than we used to be. Nobody could clean like my grandmother.

      I think… the new lot are just weaker. Made so by cosseting and nannying.

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  2. My local’s loos always contain a pair of panties. I’ve never figured out whose or why. Someone somewhere (presumably a fellow drinker) feels the need to divest themselves of them (too restrictive of their nether parts?), then leave them behind. Sometimes they look fairly respectable and newish, which makes me wonder why they don’t want to wear them again. Are they so knee deep in knickers they can afford to throw a few? Sometimes they are totally grotesque, which makes me think they have no shame. Can’t they be bothered to dispose of them at home?

    There’s nowt as queer as folk as my grandmother used to say.

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    • We get them too. I have wondered if they take them off and are too drunk to work out how to put them back on. Sometimes it’s obvious why they dumped them – because they are wet. I learned very early on not to delve into a bin without looking first.

      There are often interesting things in the toilet bins. Once there was an empty litre-sized wine bottle. How the hell they managed to make it out of the shop without being noticed – or at all – baffled me until one of the assistant managers explained.

      They come in with an empty apple juice bottle, own-brand Tesco or something else we can’t possibly be selling, and transfer the wine into that.

      Still I wondered, why do they steal the cheap stuff? Why not nick the expensive stuff? Well, that is easily explained too. The cheap stuff has screw caps, the posh stuff has corks.

      There is ingenuity left in the world, which should give us all some hope.

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  3. Money must have traces of other “horrifying dangers to the Righteous”, such as cocaine or pork scratchings (watch out muslims). And these pollutants could be present in homoeopathic concentrations, thus magnifying their potencies!
    But I’m not scared and am willing to handle other people’s money for a small fee.

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    • Anything that has passed through my hands is very likely to be contaminated wirth pork scratchings.

      This means that Jews will have to give up money. Oho, I can see a few Goldbergs doing Max Headroom impressions to that one!

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  4. I remember reading somewhere that there were more germs on your kitchen chopping board than there are on a toilet seat. That’s why I use my old toilet seat as a chopping board.

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  5. Dear Mr Leg-iron

    With profound apologies to Pink Floyd:

    We don’t need no litigation
    We don’t need no court control
    No legal actions in the courtroom
    Lawyers leave them drones alone
    Hey! Lawyers! Leave them proles alone!
    All in all it’s just another suit in the law.
    All in all you’re just another suit in the llaw.

    DP

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