Women’s, B grade
Appearance: Mismatched toilet seats, two shades of muddy pink on the walls, old Queen Vic greeting you as you walk in – I’m just not feeling it. The locks on both cubicle doors (yes, I used both) have seen better days and are now intent on trying to keep you hostage. The cubicles are also a real tight squeeze – quite difficult to shuffle around to get out. It feels like the rest of the pub has had an upgrade and they were like “nah don’t worry about the loos, no one notices them.” Well we do. At least get matching loo seats, guys. Oh and what’s up with that giant extra rubbish bin?
Smell: Peculiar. A fellow toilet-goer remarked that it was almost akin to the smell of a urinal cake. Attempting to mask a pissy smell but not quite managing it.
Paper: A standard, rough public toilet number.
Flush: Adequate but nothing special.
Washing: A real lacklustre tap that just dribbled out water like it had lost the will to tap, but there was some foamy hand soap and a good hand dryer to pick up the slack.
Best: The relief that I made it out of the cubicle without falling back into the loo.
Worst: The sad tap sums up this toilet really. It needs a facelift – or at least some botox.