Set the scene…
You’re a Spanish student from, well Spain. As you shout to your friends in the loudest possible volume known to man you realize you need to do your business. Maybe there’s a public toilet nearby? Let’s hope so Alonso.
As you go to inform your amigos of the situation, thing’s are only getting worse down south.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spot an ugly, shiny looking thing. It looks like a prefab version of ‘Doctor Who’s’ TARDIS. You approach with the utmost caution.
You like Ireland so far. In fact, before you needed to hit the head you were on your way to a famous pub of sorts. You ask yourself, ” Es copper face-Jax ?”
By now you are about 100m out from your designated target. You see a disorientated toddler stumble out of the box with the mother by their side. You begin to wonder why their noses have fallen off. You begin to wonder why their faces resemble the face of a hardened Vietnam war veteran. A corroded wheel from a stroller lays on the path to the door.
You pass multiple warning signs, multiple checkpoints, and even a man clad in a hazmat. It looks like Chernobyl.
You see that you have to pay. You pull out enough coinage for ten minutes. You sign the disclaimer form attached to the door and prepay the ambulance ride to the hospital. While you’re at it, you book a nose reconstruction at a top clinic.
Suddenly the military grade steel door slides open. Inside you notice the interior looks like it was designed by an anti-christ version of Dermot Bannon. It looks like a solitary confinement cell.
A mere 20 seconds in, you become nauseous, your nose turns green and your lungs are screaming for air that doesn’t contain 85% prehistoric urine fumes. The door locks. . . you’re hoping that it’s just a set-up. You wish you’d bought a bottle of Febreeze.
You black out. The next day another brave soul discovers your body on the floor.
Conclusion: Those things absolutely stink.
I.D.C 