I was at the urinal this morning, when I heard rustling, a flush, the click of a cubical door from which a chap emerged.
So far, so ordinary, but what happened next disturbed me.
At the sink, the man from trap one rolled up his sleeves, filled the sink with hot water, doused his hands in liquid soap and proceded to rigorously 'scrub up' with considerable persistance as though preparing to perform open-heart surgery on an immunity-deficient child.
I don't know what had just happened in that cubicle, and I don't want to know, but I do know that I won't be shaking HIS hand any time soon.
Disgusting
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