By Press Release
Just two years after I saw Wet Leg at Strings in Newport, I caught them again last week, headlining at the Royal Albert Hall.
The sold-out show was for the Teenage Cancer Trust, another proud Dad moment for me, spoilt just a little by the apparent lack of male loos. These days, like Private Godfrey, while out, I frequently need to be excused, and ideally like to find somewhere fairly quickly. If you didn’t know, the Royal Albert Hall is a round Victorian building, and I soon found myself going around in circles – trying to locate the apparently missing facilities. All I saw were lines of women queuing for loos, as women usually do at events.
The Albert Hall is a particular favourite of mine; last time we were there, for reasons I won’t bore you with, we sat in the Royal Box. For a few hours, we imagined what it felt like to be a part of Britain’s first family. Occasionally, people glanced in our direction, I thought because we were smartly dressed, while other concertgoers seemed not to have bothered. I didn’t deliberately wave back at those curious patrons – but it’s possible I graciously smiled and nodded once or twice.
Only at the conclusion of the performance, did I realise the Royal coat of arms – which I thought would only be in place when Royals were present – hung beneath us. We were seated right behind it! Thinking about the people around us speculating about which minor Royals we could have been, I chuckled all the way home.
If that’s a regular occurrence, it’s no wonder the current boss is trying to slim things down; the public probably thinks there are hundreds of us – sorry, them.
Anyway, back to running around in search of a toilet. At most events, men are far better served than women, perhaps because, when it comes to emptying our bladders, girls must sit. Apparently, women have slightly smaller bladders than men. How on earth do you get to my age without knowing that? Ignorantly, I assumed that their need to go more often was just another cross they bear; I hadn’t considered why. It certainly makes sense; after all, anatomically, blokes have less stuff that needs to fit down there. When God created us, perhaps he decided that, as the male body had a little extra space, it would be daft not to give us some additional bladder room. What a wonderful gift!
I once ordered a new car and, on the ridiculously overpriced option list, there was an ‘increased capacity screen wash bottle.’ Unlike the other costly extras, it cost just £20. When you’re trying to sell pricey upgrades, alloys, sunroofs, paint etc, why bother charging twenty quid for a larger screen wash bottle; why not just fit one!
Sorry, I digress; becoming increasingly desperate, I noticed that the women I saw waiting patiently in line had a sprinkling of men among them. It was a penny-drop moment; I had assumed these chaps were chivalrously keeping their womenfolk company as they queued. Then I realised the signs on the cubicle doors I’d been passing read ‘gender neutral.’ Sheepishly, I joined the non-binary human throng and awaited my turn. Trying to avoid an actual wet leg, I distracted myself by wondering what this achieved, other than longer wait times for men?
If it’s ideological gender equality, it makes no sense. It’s a biological fact that women and men have differing needs in toilets. How do trans people feel about venues simply changing a few signs to appease them?
I’ve since learned that the Albert Hall does still have toilets exclusively for male and female use, albeit on other levels. Fair enough; at least I’ll know where to go next time.