Ladies loos, that is. We’ve all had public-loo-related nightmares of standing in line with legs crossed, hoping against hope that the cackling women ahead of us will just get on and take a fucking piss already, rather than chatting to each other over the doors and wedging into cubicles in giggling twosomes. Apart from anything else, tag team weeing is rarely a good idea, given the closed confines of most public toilets. I once squeezed in with my friend Sam from So Bad Ass and accidentally peed on the pretend fox tail she was wearing. True fact.
Men’s loos, on the other hand, are veritable oases of calm and peaceful peeing in comparison. Having to piss in public makes them move pretty quick, and they rarely seem to bother with the one cubicle available (mostly because it means everyone instantly knowing that they’re going for a poo).
Many years ago I decided that I was not going to stand (or sit) for it. If there’s a queue in the ladies then I go look next door. We were leaving a Nick Cave gig recently and I needed a wee before facing the tube – but so did half the percentage of the audience that was female. I walked straight back out and into the Gents along the corridor – apart from a slightly startled German man at the urinals, the only thing that happened was that I got to have a wee and travel home in comfort whilst my more polite brethren risked pissing themselves on the night bus.
So why do women continue to wait in line at gigs and nightclubs, missing half the fun just cos they needed a whizz? See that men’s loo next door? Betcha a pound to a penny that it’s pretty much deserted. Go pee, my pretties!