Trouble is you never know whether or not they’ve washed their hands, the dirty so-and-sos. A revolting one in five people never washes their hands after they’ve been to the lavvy.
Always remember, besides ensuring there’s paper, that infectious diseases thrive in the thunderbox and if you’re a bloke you’ve not done your duty simply by splashing water onto your hands for a few seconds which is, apparently, the norm.
A food safety expert claims warm water for 20 secs is better. He’s taking a swipe at people, male and female, who are doing the dirty. Does the Queen wash the monarchist mitts, one wonders. Indeed, does Her Majesty ever need to go?
Now can we move on to another subject.
I’m lining up
Once I’ve done my salsa class I fear I’m going to be too wappit oot for it but the South Leith Parish Church’s line dancing sessions on Tuesday nights beckon.
So maybe I do look ridiculous in a stetson and cowboy boots. But in leafy South Leith a guy can get away with it.
Blame it on Blair
Shifty, shifty. I wouldn’t trust Tony Blair with a packet of wine gums. We should have booked him for the Tattoo – as the War Horse.
It’s all coming out now about Blair, the dirty linen, in the wash if not in the papers.
The Iraq War is being exhumed. His war. But one does get a little out of his league when they talk of his medical crutches, an inhaler and the pills and potions that littered his office when the balloon did go up over the Iraq catastrophe.
Much grinning and smirking over revelations involving Teflon Tony and Rebekah Brooks, mired in a courtroom drama. Couldn’t Cherie Blair feature in any of the finer details? If not now some day fairly soon they will out.