No Spray, No Lay: A Tribute to Toilet Attendant Catchphrases

Every good club has a good toilet. We're talking about a proper toilet area, a luxurious, multi-cubicled pleasure palace with a load of sinks, a decent piss-trough, a machine that sells cockrings, blow up sheep and herbal enhancers, and a Dyson Airblade—not a shit-splattered atrocity replete with a single sodden bog roll that's run out by half eleven. We're thinking about a peaceful haven, a shelter from the chaos and confusion found in a windowless room stuffed with cider-breath casualties. We're imagining the kind of toilet where new friendships form over a hilarious misunderstanding or two, the kind of toilet where the handwash is plentiful and the water temperature is just right and the tap and bowl are perfectly aligned and no one's walking back into the club itself looking like they decided, at the last minute, to use their chinos rather than the loo. We're talking about heaven on earth.

Now, a good toilet doesn't just pride itself on being technically flawless. It needs character. It needs spark and pizzaz. It needs banter. A great toilet is a toilet where everyone feels free to chat, unrestrained by the social straitjacket we're forced to wrap ourselves in as we stumble through life. The toilet is a leveller. After all, there aren't many places where you'll find a group of men in varying states of decay with their cocks out, extracting those vital final few drops via some excessive, energizing wagging.

The only thing that gets in the way of sozzled bonhomie is the bloke trying to sell you aftershave. Now, the important thing to remember here, is that he's just doing his job and no one should ever be made to feel ashamed of their profession. It's not fun. It's not glamorous and I doubt it pays well, so there's no disrespect intended here at all, rather this is our opportunity, as we see it, to pay tribute to this unsung bastion of the bog, and his unrelenting supply of catchphrases.

All hail the MC of the WC.

"No spray, no lay!"
Very much the fresh foundation soil from which all toilet attendant phrases grow.

"No stink, no pink!"
Four words, a million complicated, problematic images.

"No double mint, no troubled bint!"
Can you say bint? Is that okay? What about troubled bint? Probably not.

"No Beckham Homme aftershave, remain forever a slave!"
Of love, you lonely, joyless, boring fuck!

"No Jovan Musk, for the rest of your life you'll be a husk!"
Aftershave will definitely make women want to fellate you! Dose yourself in it! Feed me pound after pound!

"No Jean Paul Gaultier Le Male, now that's a fail!"
"Fail" is a term I have heard young people use!

"No Brut, well who gives a toot!"
You're a great guy and you've just been unlucky recently with the job and Amy moving to Gravesend but you'll get there champ, you don't need any artificial aphrodisiac. You're kind, sweet, caring, mature, not like the other lads. No, I'm not sure why she just wants to be friends, either!

"No DKNY, it's time to buy!"
This is funny because I am a man who has to scrape a living by trying to spray nice smelling liquids on people's necks for a living and I also make jokes that connect aftershave and sexual attraction and everyone thinks they are funny and relatable!"

"No Bulgari, you better have a Ferrari!"
Because that's all women want apparently, fast cars and men who smell nice.

"No Acqua di Parma, no harma!"
Rhyming words are fun but can be tricky sometimes!

"No Diesel Only the Brave, mate, just get out of the rave!"
Right now! Leave! Get out! Vanish! Fuck off! Piss off! Go away! You're barred! You're done! You're history! You're dead to the world! You mean nothing!

"No James Bond Ocean Royale, throw yourself in the Suez Canal!"
I'll take my aftershave shaken….not stirred ;)

"No Armani, no punani!"
The old ones are the best, eh boys?

"No Davidoff Cool Water, no one's gonna want you to form a strong and loving relationship with them that eventually results in the creation of a daughter!"
I can't wait to tell our kids how we met.

"No Hugo Boss Bottled Intense, no, please, please find me another job, please, I can't keep doing this, do I have to keep doing this, really, what have I done to deserve this, what crimes have I committed, what sins have I stumbled through unknowingly and unwittingly?"
Why me, lord, why me?

"No soap, no hope!"
Back with a bang boys!

"No Issey Miyake L'eau D'Issey, you're not getting busy!"
"Busy" is a euphemism, here at least, in this toilet, in this club, in this club you never wanted to come to in the first place, in this club that makes you hate yourself, in this club that's so bad you've found yourself sharing a cubicle with the bassist of a band you remember supporting another band in this club when you were a student doing a bump of cheap coke, but you aren't a student anymore, are you, you're an adult with a job and a life and you hate it and all you really want is to be nineteen again, studying geography again, but you can't go back, so you're here, in this club, and I'm trying to sell you a squirt of aftershave and you're saying, "yes, please, cheers mate, thanks a lot mate, thank you, cheers," and you feel like you can't leave and the walls are closing in and it's all too much for you, right here, right now, it's all too much, and all you want is to be nineteen again, back there, back where you were, back with who you were, before you became the you you are now, the you you didn't want to be.

"No Old Spice, no pubic lice!"
Oh how I I long for the sweet release of death!

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