Transvestite's Tights

Urinals

What in Bonaparte’s balls is mankind coming to? Was in a trendy left wing bar last night in a popular part of The Metropol with nephew ’Fruity’ Ware-Armitage. He was showing off his bit of leggy totty called Trixi.

Anyway one had a call from nature, so one trotted off to the little boys room to do some quantitative easing.

Whilst sitting on the kharzi one could hear people chatting on the other side of the door. However, all one could discern were the voices of women? What were women doing in the little boys room one wondered?

After exiting (and one doesn’t mean finished shitting one means leaving the cubicle in which the latrine was housed) one was shocked to see three women standing around gossiping right by the hand basins.

One politely explained that they were in the wrong place to which the big bosomed one said ’i don’t think so big boy.’ I pointing to the urinals and said ’you are hardly likely to need one of those my dear.’ The three women then walked, simultaneously over to the urinals a got their wedding tackle out! They weren't women at all they were chaps! Worse than that one had actually fancied the big bosomed one! Thought I was going to vomit!

It’s a disgrace! What the hell is the matter with people? You can't have ladies walking around with wedding tackle hanging about all willy-nilly all over the place! I don’t want those people passing water where I pass mine and I certainly don’t want to shit where they've shat!

One supposes that the ladies won't want that sort in their latrines either. So where can these people deposit their waste matter? Well one suggests some kind of lavatorial deliniation! New signs will be needed in addition to; ’LADIES’ and ’GENTS,’ something like ’UNDECIDED.’

I say these people should have had their own latrines in which they could have shat their shit into.