Doing Business in the Great Outdoors

outdoor urinal by singing in the rain

Why, yes. There is an outdoor urinal in the middle of the West End.

I guess London has added these lovely receptacles because the lovely drunken lads and lasses have taken to urinating in the streets while inebriated. Thus, instead of making them go inside, the wonderful city government has decided it’d be most appropriate to let them all urinate in the public eye. My oh my, it’s quite revolting and unfit for a princess to view if you ask me. But I guess better in there than on the streets, you know?

I must add that this urinal is located right by the Palace Theatre, the home of the broadway show Singin’ in the Rain. I guess the West End is making it rain in more ways than one on this corner.

outdoor urinal by singing in the rain 2

Peeing with the Queen!

Well, hello, my loves!

Today, I skipped on over to Buckingham Palace, where I had a tour of the state rooms and saw all of the Queen’s beautiful diamonds (ooooh, aaaah). The whole place was just magnificent, but the tour was very long, so at the end I just had to pee so badly. I headed to the garden in the back of the palace and into the shed-like bathroom (um hello, we’re in a PALACE!) to let myself loose, but when I opened one of the stall doors, someone was already squatting over the toilet, grunting like an overly obnoxious weightlifter. “Lock a door, would you?” I scoffed, and then the woman looked up in shock. IT WAS THE QUEEN. I WALKED IN ON THE QUEEN TAKING A DUMP. AND I JUST TOLD HER OFF. HOLY SHIT. HOLY ROYAL SHIT.

So after that moment of utter embarrassment, I walked away in awe and went to relieve myself in a stall that was actually vacant. Gotta say, the stall was pretty plain for someone of the Queen’s stature. What the hell was she doing crapping in here?

The lovely loo where the Queen gets to expel her waste on the daily.

When I was done, I headed out to wash my hands, and lo and behold, there’s a fucking five-woman security team surrounding the Queen. And of course all of them turn to glare at me when the Queen informs them that I’m the one who just told her highness off.

“It is vastly impolite to speak to Your Majesty in that manner!” one scolded me.

“Well, why the hell didn’t she lock the door, and what the hell was she doing in the bathroom of the commoners?!” (Okay, I’m a princess, but that’s beside the point.)

“You think our bathrooms actually work in the palace, you silly girl? Those are just for show,” the Queen interjected. “They’re 300 years old and clog with a drop of urine. It’s imperative that I do my business out here.” And with that, she exited in her stately manner, surrounded by her entourage.

The majestic sink where I exchanged words with the Queen and her entourage.

So today I learned the Buckingham Palace bathrooms don’t actually do jack shit, and I got to hang out in the actual bathroom with the Queen. I think I may actually be the shit.