Toilet Issues

Bathrooms are wonderful places and not just because it is there you can squat naked over your spouse’s hairdryer to dry off your bits.

That may be information you didn’t wish to know about me. Nevermind.

What I really wanted to say here is, as chief bathroom cleaner in our house, I have been thinking about the effects advertising has had on our sense of cleanliness in the throne room, or “visiting Mrs. Murphy” as my Mom used to call it.

Why, for example, do we demand that our toilets smell like toothpaste? Have scientists deduced that peppermint is the most effective agent for killing bacteria? My immediate suspicion is that this research is a canine conspiracy that was formulated so they don’t have to spend so much money on mouthwash.

Given the methods currently employed by dogs to ‘freshen’ themselves, I somehow don’t think gargling with minty fresh blue water is going to help much. In fact, I would enjoy seeing a dog gargle period.

I have yet to see an ad campaign telling me the dangers of leaving fingernail clippings in the sink or bathtub mind you. That particular delinquency is brought to most husbands’ attention early in the marriage. Probably on the honeymoon. Maybe on the wedding night. Something like that. First date maybe.

Ahem.

I also got busted once cleaning the sink with the toilet brush. My argument, bravely and I think concisely put forward, was “But honey, you don’t actually eat out of your sink – why should it matter…?”

The phrase “Went over like a lead balloon” was perhaps coined in honour of this cogent but fruitless reasoning.

It failed utterly.

I became a truly outstanding toilet cleaner not only by right of occupancy (according to statements made by my completely disloyal relatives and offspring), but as a result of an embarrassing injury long ago in a past life.

This may seem obvious but believe it or not some toilets are smaller than others.

Speaking as a larger man in terms of body size, and not necessarily size of the, uh, sensitive personal region, this can pose some difficulties.

For example, when a man assumes the throne, what will occasionally happen is his (sensitive personal region) will touch the side of the toilet itself.

Now the cleaning agent in most cleaners is hydrochloric acid.

Let me just repeat that for female readers: HYDROCHLORIC ACID!!

A female, and let me take pains here to assure you it was not my wonderful spouse I am talking about here, accidentally left some toilet cleaner on the edges of the bowl and seat.

If you have ever had any HYDROCHLORIC ACID touch your hands, you will know that it can cause some mild discomfort. A burning sensation if you will.

Having it touch more sensitive tissue has been known to cause panic and alarm in many male individuals.

Can you understand what I’m delicately trying to phrase here?

I imagine a visit to the emergency department would be interesting…

“I have a burning sensation on my sensitive personal region!”

“How often do you visit prostitutes Mr. Scumbag?”

“No no – not that kind of burning. I think a chemical actually touched my (sensitive personal region) and now it hurts”.

“What kind of chemical would do that?”

“Toilet bowl cleaner”

“Why were you cleaning the toilet bowl with your thing, Mr. Crawford?”

“I wasn’t. It’s a long story – please get the fire hose…”

Perhaps I should write an advertising jingle:

“You’ll wonder where your husband went

If you clean your bowl with Pepsodent…”

Or perhaps it should be a public service announcement:

“Your mate has gone flaccid

Cause you’re scrubbing with ACID…”

Anyway – I am now, and always will be, the official and most talented, thorough cleaner of toilets in our house. Perhaps the world.

Believe me – I don’t mind. It is not a chore. I rinse well. Really well.