' ' ' ' ' ' Nothing Works Faster

NOTHING WORKS FASTER I am in the process of passing urine into an urinal at an Heathrow Terminal (never can go on planes) when idly glancing as I ease my bladder (“For this relief...much thanks! ” I quote Hamlet to myself) My eye is held by a machine clamped upon the wall as if it had just climbed there at the first tinkle of pee. It is busy advertising different textured flavoured coloured condoms. I smile at the hard sell. Obviously catering to all possibilities it sells as well (after all it is a him & her world) packets of ANADIN. He’s got a hard on... she’s got a headache. That’s the way the money goes pop goes the weasel.