Call a bog a bog

I am unsure why the word "toilet" is forbidden to say in public.

Women cunningly disguise their disgusting habit of going to the loo by instead visiting the "bathroom" ... I used to wonder what world of feminine bliss lay behind the grimy green door at the Prince of Wales. I had visions of plush carpets, dressing tables and, well, a bath! I can now going to expose that as a lie ... it is, in fact, a slightly less smelly version of the male "bathroom" (as I am trying to avoid toilet humour I will leave the comparison there).

Bowing to this female pressure shopping centres across the country (Australia) are increasingly referring to the little boys room as "Rest Rooms" How posh, and a jolly good idea I thought. At last, a male luxury sanctuary where I can sink into a chesterfield with the paper and a single malt while the missus goes "ooo" a lot at shoes . May read a book, watch the rugger or play Billiards with a chap who has a double barreled surname (might even have a piss while I'm at it, who knows). But wait ... in another exclusive Twaddle Factory expose we can bring you the truth about these so called "Rest" rooms ... they are ... in fact ... just a normal bog (Gasp).

So come on people, next time you are in the pub, or restaurant and you need to pay a visit, forget all the pretentious bollocks, stand up, puff out your chest and say in a booming, confident voice...

"Get the beers in ... I'm off for a slash"