Nostrodamus
New member
I just have to talk about the biggest difference between the French and English. No it is not the language or that we are on different land masses. It is far bigger than both of these put together and is something I have alluded to before on our website. It is, drumroll please, the French toilets.
Now, someone like me, with too much time on their hands worked out that the average person spends some 394 days or 56 weeks on the toilet in their lifetime, or at least they do in England. It is one place you can be on your own and contemplate life or 7 down beginning with “W”
Not so with the French. I know they have toilets on their boats, I checked, but they have never been used apart from somewhere to store 400 fishing rods and 600 bottles of wine. If the men need to go then out it flops over the side. Anything bigger goes in a bucket and is thrown over the side for mullet food with a smile at the thought of the British trying to eat one. Their peculiar toilet habits don’t stop there. We were in a marina laundry room when in Jacques strides in his Breton top and used an open urinal next to us without a thought. There are numerous urinals around which have half saloon doors or no doors and are completely open to public view. As people walk past It can stop everything in mid-stream and leave you with a bladder the size of a dromedary camel. It gets better. In most places the toilets don’t have those plastic seats all men leave down to annoy women. There is nothing, just cold hard porcelain or a hole to hover over. I was thinking of buying one of those blow up neck holders you use when traveling but they are too small and fall inside. I have spoken before about the hole in the floor job where you need to adopt the rodeo position in order to squat at the same time as keeping your trousers in a suitable position but I tend to give them a miss, literally. Now I don’t know about you but I have no problem giving a contented “Aaahhhh” occasionally but try to go when the toilets are mixed and Mademoiselles Emmanuelle or Lolita is in the next trap. It just does not work for me. It also dispels a few dreams when Mademoiselle breaks wind like Moby Dick and you hear a loud splosh and a “Aahhhh” from her. It is the same with the mixed showers. Having a bikini line floating around in your cubicle, hooking onto your big toe and all because Josephine has blocked her plug hole by giving herself a Brazilian with a cuttle fish. It is just not British. The only good point is that there are not many French female “ginners”. To make matters worse you have to pay in most showers for the privilege of watching female armpit hair float past like a Moses basket. The water is timed and cuts off at the most inopportune moments. You find yourself still with soap in your hair and eyes, a bird’s nest around your toes as you do a can-can to flick it off on Jacques who is walking around with his member out chatting about the one that got away………
Now, someone like me, with too much time on their hands worked out that the average person spends some 394 days or 56 weeks on the toilet in their lifetime, or at least they do in England. It is one place you can be on your own and contemplate life or 7 down beginning with “W”
Not so with the French. I know they have toilets on their boats, I checked, but they have never been used apart from somewhere to store 400 fishing rods and 600 bottles of wine. If the men need to go then out it flops over the side. Anything bigger goes in a bucket and is thrown over the side for mullet food with a smile at the thought of the British trying to eat one. Their peculiar toilet habits don’t stop there. We were in a marina laundry room when in Jacques strides in his Breton top and used an open urinal next to us without a thought. There are numerous urinals around which have half saloon doors or no doors and are completely open to public view. As people walk past It can stop everything in mid-stream and leave you with a bladder the size of a dromedary camel. It gets better. In most places the toilets don’t have those plastic seats all men leave down to annoy women. There is nothing, just cold hard porcelain or a hole to hover over. I was thinking of buying one of those blow up neck holders you use when traveling but they are too small and fall inside. I have spoken before about the hole in the floor job where you need to adopt the rodeo position in order to squat at the same time as keeping your trousers in a suitable position but I tend to give them a miss, literally. Now I don’t know about you but I have no problem giving a contented “Aaahhhh” occasionally but try to go when the toilets are mixed and Mademoiselles Emmanuelle or Lolita is in the next trap. It just does not work for me. It also dispels a few dreams when Mademoiselle breaks wind like Moby Dick and you hear a loud splosh and a “Aahhhh” from her. It is the same with the mixed showers. Having a bikini line floating around in your cubicle, hooking onto your big toe and all because Josephine has blocked her plug hole by giving herself a Brazilian with a cuttle fish. It is just not British. The only good point is that there are not many French female “ginners”. To make matters worse you have to pay in most showers for the privilege of watching female armpit hair float past like a Moses basket. The water is timed and cuts off at the most inopportune moments. You find yourself still with soap in your hair and eyes, a bird’s nest around your toes as you do a can-can to flick it off on Jacques who is walking around with his member out chatting about the one that got away………
