Carry on at Your Convenience

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# Three old ladies locked in the lavatory!

Four matching pairs.

Blue and green washbasins

for Carter's, Aberdeen.

Check.

Two princess suites complete with

stainless steel fittings for Gerling's, London.

- Check.

- Six white, top-flushing urinals.

Stand-up ones?

Is there any other sort?

I only asked. Funny things happen these days.

Six white top-flushing urinals, regular design,

for the YWCA, Wigan.

One matching pair...

The YWCA? Hey, you're right.

Funny things do happen these days.

Well, Miss Withering, how does it feel?

Comfortable?

Yes, I think so, Mr Boggs.

Good, good. Comfort before beauty.

That's what I always say.

It's a bit big in the bowl, I think.

It is only two centimetres more than our last

model, and I'm sure we shan't fall out over that.

It's falling in I'm worried about.

No, no. I like your overall design, Mr Coote.

Oh, thank you, sir.

May I get off now, please?

Of course, Miss Withering.

Thank you. You've been most patient.

Yes. Like Job on a monument.

And what a monument. Ha-ha!

We must make sure the catch

is strong enough to support the seat.

- Do you mind if I try it, WC?

- No, go ahead. Yes, do.

Yes. I don't think I could stand it

for more than half an hour.

It was hardly designed for a reading room.

Look. Look at this.

Very slender, this pedestal, isn't it?

It's streamlined.

What for? Wind resistance? Ha-ha!

In any case, the thickness has nothing

whatsoever to do with the tensile strength.

I hope you're right, Mr Coote.

I have had bitter experience of what happens

when one of these collapses.

Or rather my poor dear wife had. Rest her soul.

I can assure you, sir,

an elephant could safely use that toilet.

Not without a much bigger bowl.

We can't afford to take any chances, Mr Coote.

No. Dependability before beauty, I always say.

Miss Withering, if you wouldn't mind.

Just one more time.

This time, my dear,

come down on it like a ton of bricks! Boom!

So far, so good.

Now, if you'd just bump up and down a bit.

Excellent! Excellent!

Bump! Bump!

Things that go...

... in the night. Ha-ha-ha!

One matching pair of what?

- Beauts.

- One matching pair of...

Eh?

- Hello, Myrt, love.

- Oh, hello, Vic.

How about it this afternoon, then?

Not standing up.

No, sitting down.

I've got these grandstand tickets.

The kickoff's at three o'clock.

It should be a special match.

Three o'clock! Ooh, how can we?

We'll be working till five thirty.

I wouldn't bet on that, if I were you.

And I'll take you out for a bit of supper.

Ooh!

Hello, Myrtle. Got a cup of tea for me?

Sorry, Bernie. No more floor service.

Eh? What do you mean no more floor service?

New rule. Drinks only to be served

in the canteen during official breaks.

Well, that's what I call taking a diabolical liberty!

And that's something you know all about.

- Ha-ha!

- Do you mind? Do you mind?

Don't you worry.

I won't let them get away with this.

That's all right, Vic.

I didn't really want a cup anyway.

Whether you want one or not is beside the point.

This constitutes an infringement

of the workers' rights.

Uh-oh. Old tinder bottom's off again.

Another bloomin' strike, I suppose.

Oh, no. What's it for?

You know our Vic.

He never has known what it's for.

- Ooh!

- Ha-ha-ha!

Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Mr Boggs.

That's quite all right, Miss Plummer.

I should have sounded my hooter.

There he is. Old silver spoon. At it again.

Oh, give over, Vic.

He can't help being the boss's son.

Privileged class, sitting on his...

That's what he is.

Privileged class? Do you know

what the girls call him? Pencil doings.

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