Colin Sweetman relates to scraped arms and wet seats in this public toilet mediocrity

Some may find this article offensive or disgusting; others may find its effect of truth quite comical. Bottom line, though: if you’re not fit to read it then you’re not fit to live life.

Let’s say you are bussing or biking or whatever in to college, and the morning dump beckons your call. A brief visit to the loo is in order, so naturally, you do something about it. Going into any one of the toilets that are on offer in UCD isn’t exactly a traumatising experience; it’s just a mildly unpleasant one.

Firstly, you must approach the toilets in the same manner as diving into a swimming pool – hold your breath and hope that you come out the other side. This can be difficult because, of course, you naturally forensically inspect every cubicle as they come by.

Open Door 1: you find that some lazy bastard not three or four minutes before you has pissed all over the seat. This is easily overcome if you happen to be a male of the species, but I’m afraid it is a bit of a contact sport for ladies. However, you are unlikely to do anything about it, so just move onto Door 2.

Door 2 has no latch. This won’t do at all. Better try Door 3, but as soon as you enter you run out of breath, therefore allowing a tremendous smell punch you straight in the nasal gland, right as you discover that some cabbage-eating twerp has left a floating surprise waiting there for you.

In desperation you try Door 4. A quick look will do this time. No need for forensics. Just in and out and let the nightmare be over. Aahhhhh…

But wait! You’ve made a rookie mistake in the ceramics business. You never checked the bogroll. One of two things happen here: either you’re left with four, maybe five sheets – or, it has just been freshly filled with an industrial-sized roll, enough to wipe the arses of twenty diarrhoeal elephants. This unknowingly causes problems too, because it inevitably becomes jammed in the dispenser, making you reach deep into the bowels of the system to grab the tethered end which never ceases to break off just as you get a decent handful or grip. All the while your arm is getting cut to shreds from the serrated edge which never comes to use. We’re talking two-ply perforated tissue here; what’s the use of a serrated edge? I’ll tell you why, because the paper has the consistency of a crisp bag and the absorbency of a pint glass.

Maybe bidets are the way forward after all.