In Croydon town last week <br />I chanced to have to use <br />The fully automated <br />Hygienic push-button <br />Toilet complex - recently installed. <br /> <br />Confronted by a row <br />of gleaming stainless doors <br />labeled aggressively (and also in Braille) <br />I pressed the 'vacant' button. <br />A door opened automatically <br />and I entered the stainless world. <br /> <br />Inside the sound of stainless music <br />filled the air and a stainless voice <br />(American) said emphatically <br />'Push button to close door. <br />You have ten minutes.' <br /> <br />With some trepidation, <br />confronted wth such a time limit, <br />I sat upon the stainless seat <br />and pressed a button <br />which released paper - slowly <br />one sheet at a time. <br /> <br />After hastily completing my task <br />I stood and failed to find <br />a button to flush the stainless bowl <br />(without the usual lid to close) <br />Again I heart the steely voice command <br />'Wash your hands and the toilet <br />will flush automatically' <br /> <br />Guiltily I held my hands under <br />the stainless tap and let the water run. <br />The door released, the music stopped <br />and I made a hasty retreat. <br /> <br />Henceforth when taken short, <br />I'll use the dunnies at the railway station <br />despite their broken seats <br />and piss-stained concrete floors.<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stainless-hygiene/
