Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness

Which rather suggests that divinity resides on the shelf between the Drano and the detergents. This may be somewhat of a difficult thing to sell to practitioners of fundamental religion. They are sensitive creatures given to causing others to weep.

Being at one with God used to be a function of not cleaning the drains. It certainly sent Prince Albert to his reward early and accounted for millions in India.

Nowadays we do meet people who make a god of it. Some, like theatre sisters, are lauded for their attitude…lauded and feared. But we all benefit from their zeal. Others worship at home, and it is here where the infidel can be most uncomfortable. We have all visited a home where the toilets and bathrooms are cleaner than ours. In some cases they are cleaner than the final assembly room at NASA.

One only discovers this when one is in need. The host tells you to go down the end of the hall and turn right but nothing prepares you for the sight of the loo. It is spotless; indeed the spots are spotless. There are flowers, there are fine china vases, there is artwork on the walls. The towels are done up with silk bows. It smells of mint and virgins.

If you are lucky all you have to do is a one-tea pee and you can do it standing up into the bulls-eye of the water in the toilet, flush with your fingertips, and sneak away into the night.

If your luck runs more to normal, you will sit down and be instantly stricken with the Two-Day Taco Turdathon…the shit that initially never stops but eventually stops half-way…or the Florentine Faecal Fountain. The inspiration for the Boeing water bomber, except you never quite get it on target.

If you are a person of no conscience and do not care whether you are to be invited to the place again, there is no problem that cannot be solved with the towels. Silk bows notwithstanding, you can wipe anything with anything. But you cannot dispose of it later.

If you are gentleman or a lady, you have a problem. There will be no easy solution and every operation you undertake to reduce the carnage will make it worse. All under a miasma of stench that will ultimately result in the drapes being torn down and burned. Your best move is to burst into tears and throw yourself out the front door. With a bit of luck the smell should have cleared thirty yards from the house and you can make a run for it in clear air.

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