As long as humans and animals have been arguing, one debate in particular has dominated our discourse. The subject of this is 'what separates us?' Why is it that we humanoids rule the world's roost while those living in an actual roost are just killing what little time they have left before being transformed into an accompaniment for gravy?
Obviously there are lots of differences that separate, neigh elevate, humans from other creatures: self awareness, tendency to look less ridiculous when clothed and understanding the comedic rule of three to name but three. At this point I could begin running through an endless list of things which differ - playing football versus public coitus for example, but any visit to youtube or X-tube respectively will show that even those two don't always hold true. Surely though, there must be a defining difference which has elevated us.
Luckily for both the animal kingdom and the human fiefdom I've managed to distil this discussion and have arrived at a definitive answer. The thing which separates us and elevates homo sapiens from other animals is our eagerness and ability to conduct our most private moments in private (and yes, I do mean more private than sex. I've been walked in on mid-coitus and midway through decorating the porcelain: the latter was at least three shades of rogue more humiliating).
Some might argue that the only reason there's a difference between our camps in this regard is that other animals don't have this hang-up. For those shameless farm animals this is true; most horses will quite happily conduct a conversation out one end while unloading half their body weight in reconstituted grass from the other. Not the case with domesticated animals though: we've taught them our shame and we've taught them well; look at the trouble cats go to to hide their intentions and then burying the evidence when true nature calls. Have you ever locked eyes with a Labrador while it's doing its business? Awkward for both of you isn't it? If domestic pets had opposable thumbs the first thing they'd do would be construct a quadruped-friendly bathroom.
Despite this being the key civilising difference, the nexus exclusive to humanity, there are those amongst us (men) who don't seem to be aware of this civilising distinction. They seem to be unaware of this difference and the other closely-related bathroom-related protocols which should be taught before, during and, for at least the first 21 years after, birth.
For that reason I'd like to suggest a few outhouse rules. As with Moses' Commandment-themed tablets there will be two brief chapters. The first will be for the user, the second for the maker...so tune in next month! These rules are universal and cross-cultural. In fact I would suggest that they are most likely an important step in cementing a truly global humanity. We may never agree on whether or not Western nations should have a monopoly on developing and retaining apocalyptic weapons, but perhaps the first step is to decide whether or not it's ok to discuss the football when standing next to another man at a urinal.
This brings me neatly to my first rule: talking. None allowed; no exceptions. You do plenty of this outside the bathroom...or maybe you don't. If that's the case, don't wait until we've parked in parallel before breaking your silence. The only thing to be broken inside a public bathroom should be wind and I'd rather not hear about that either. Now is not the time to find out which team you support or whether I can recommend a good taxidermist (though if you are interested and live close to Islington I've heard 'Get Stuffed' do excellent work).
No reading. Taking all the fun out of it aren't I? Well maybe, but whoever suggested that your bathroom break was supposed to be fun? Firstly, if you're in there long enough to get into literature then you should probably see a doctor, not a library. Secondly I don't want to touch any reading matter you've enjoyed while on the job and thirdly I just don't like the association: ' "A thing of beauty is a joy forever..." Ahhh yes, Keats I believe. I remember where I first read that...'
Washing your hands. In the words of Nike, the god of marking correct exam questions, 'just do it'. Yes, perhaps it is an ablution and yes you probably do do more disgusting things with your hands, but being civilized isn't all about practicalities. Pretend women are watching. Better still, pretend women with taste are watching. Never mind women, I will judge you on this: if we ever meet again in less ceramic surroundings and you are a non-washer this will forever and evermore be how I will think of you. It will remain top of my copy of our social CV. If we become best friends (unlikely, given how disgusting I find you) and you make me the best man at your wedding, when the moment comes for anyone to speak up in protest I won't be able to keep quiet.
Spare the violence. Try and leave your cubicle at least as nice as you found it. There's no need for clogging up the plumbing, drilling peep-holes (who are these people who carry around drills for this purpose?), breaking the lock or mistreating the porcelain any more than nature requires. This isn't going to show society who's boss or make you a hedonistic rock star. Work on your songs and, for that matter, your idea of hedonism first. Anyway, a TV out of the hotel bedroom window is the traditional and proper way to go.
Disabled loos. We can all use them ok? This isn't me being nasty or trying to be an anti-PC bore: it just makes sense. As with wheelchair ramps and the extra space in the bus, if someone in a wheelchair or in need of extra room to have sex comes along then they can wait a couple of minutes and it's all theirs (oh, the bus example no longer applies for this bit). If there's a queue then the disabled person or frisky couple can go to the front: no harm done. Unless, of course, the person in question has a rare condition which means they are able to make it to the 'WC' WC, but then relieve themselves immediately after sensing that an able-bodied person is using the facility. Yeah, I'm sorry, but I'm taking my chances with that one.
...and that's the first tablet. Admittedly it's largely aimed at men but I've had less opportunity to spy on women in public restrooms. However, from what little I know they're more inclined to wash their pedicures after flushing and less likely to take out their evening's frustrations on the sterling (or rather "sanitary pottery") work of the good people of Armitage Shanks. Speaking of, part deux will be all about Armitage and his fellow sanitary pottery manufacturers. Do join me!