Greenwich Park Toilets North

It was with trepidation that I approached the entrance to the Greenwich Park toilets. I mean, these are the very facilities that men like Christopher Wren, Galileo and Eddie Murphy used while forming the Royal Society! How could a regular pleb like me ever consider making the deep impact those esteemed gentlemen of science did when their diet consisted of turnips, beer and mutton? I made my way inside and was instantly charmed with the decor. A large fresco hung above the inside of the door featuring caricatures of famous men, all in a state of repose on various marble commodes. I paid my 5 pounds and found a stall at the end of the line that was named after Sir Issac Newton. Whether or not the great man had ever actually evacuated here was a moot point. As the string quartet played softly in the corner of my stall, the valet removed my britches and smiled knowingly. I was handed the Sunday Times and left in peace. After flushing (a burst of spring water with a hint of mint), I was directed to the gold plated sink to have my hands washed gently by a buxom maid dressed as Moll Flanders. I left with a spring in my step and feeling light and refreshed continued my tour of famous London toilets. Up next, Waterloo train station mens 3rd stall. Will it compare favourably? Stay tuned to find out.

It was with trepidation that I approached the entrance to the Greenwich Park toilets. I mean, these are the very facilities that men like Christopher Wren, Galileo and Eddie Murphy used while forming the Royal Society! How could a regular pleb like me ever consider making the deep impact those esteemed gentlemen of science did when their diet consisted of turnips, beer and mutton? I made my way inside and was instantly charmed with the decor. A large fresco hung above the inside of the door featuring caricatures of famous men, all in a state of repose on various marble commodes. I paid my 5 pounds and found a stall at the end of the line that was named after Sir Issac Newton. Whether or not the great man had ever actually evacuated here was a moot point. As the string quartet played softly in the corner of my stall, the valet removed my britches and smiled knowingly. I was handed the Sunday Times and left in peace. After flushing (a burst of spring water with a hint of mint), I was directed to the gold plated sink to have my hands washed gently by a buxom maid dressed as Moll Flanders. I left with a spring in my step and feeling light and refreshed continued my tour of famous London toilets. Up next, Waterloo train station mens 3rd stall. Will it compare favourably? Stay tuned to find out.