In the good old days, women who wanted to spend a penny would go to the House of Lords to powder the nose. On the other hand, men who wanted to see a man about a dog would go to the bog to shake hands with the vicar.
These days, everyone goes to the bathroom. Someone took the music out of the language.
It used to annoy Eugene Donaldson immensely. Harry the neighbour, unaffectionately known by the locals as Dirty Harry, used to pee on the boundary fence. Eugene didn’t give a dying duck about seeing Dirty Harry’s diddle. What annoyed him was the uric acid on his lemons.
“Don’t do it,” said Eugene. “I’m sick of getting your C5H4N4O3 on my lemon trees.”
“It’s good for your lemons,” said Dirty Harry.
Eugene attached an electric cable to the fence. He sat in his kitchen watching through the window with his hand on the switch.
Out came Dirty Harry. Out came his diddle.
Dirty Harry never peed again on the lemon trees.
It had its down side though. Eugene’s trees didn’t produce half as many lemons.