Wash ‘Em

Courtney’s parents are with us in England right now for a visit and a slice of Anglicana. Last week we took them for a Ploughman’s lunch in the Farmer’s Arms, an unspoilt pub on the fringes of Birtsmorton Common. In the gents’ I was treated to a wonderful piece of rural dialogue.

The Farmer’s Arms gent’s toilet is a pretty standard two urinal, one cubicle arrangement. An ancient rural type was standing at one of the urinals, so in accordance with toilet etiquette I used the cubicle. As I went about my business I could hear the old chap mumbling and grumbling to himself. Perhaps he was attempting some kind of pep talk. He was still there when I left the cubicle. As I washed my hands he leaned over and said:

“I was always told that if you ain’t pissed on your hands then you don’t need to wash ’em.”

And the irony is that as we left the pub a few minutes later, he was the one giving me a funny look.