Lavatory Humour

We have four loos in our house which is quite a lot of conveniences really - enough for everyone. However, the top one in the boys' bathroom has a very small cistern and is really not much cop for number twos. Also, it is in the boys' bathroom which means you have to wear full protective overalls to enter whilst waving disinfectant before you. The downstairs loo is a bit emergency only as it is very small and again no cop for number twos as it has no ventilation. The upstairs loo, known as the Latrine for some reason, is Mr Smith's bog. He keeps it Antarctically frozen and doesn't ever clean it. I do occasionally, and I turn on the towel rail just to have it smartly turned off again by Scott. Then there's my loo in my bathroom. It is perfect in every respect and swallows everything including floaty ones and it's comfy and pleasant and private. However, the handle is a bit broken. It was only a tadge broken but then the plumber came and made it much worse. He went to get a spare part and never came back. I am reduced to using the Latrine which made Mr Smith frightfully shirty as not only did my teeny little poo refuse to disappear but the loo paper went all floaty too. He is trying to put lead in my tea and feed me iron filings to make things heavier. I wish he'd just find that elusive plumber.