"Good god. Why is he posting a photo of his toilet?" the reader might fairly ask.
My loft's toilet has come to dominate my life, although I didn't know it at first. I was initially preoccupied with the mildewy funk emanating from my bathroom. No problem. A quick scouring with bleach later, and I got its hygiene up to 19th century battlefield standards. And an hour later, I scoured it again. And showered again.
This is one of those low-flow toilets that saves water by requiring that you flush it several times on every use. I can only assume it was invented by the same eco-terrorist airheads who brought us "green" electric vehicles. How feeble is it? Yesterday I overflowed it by blowing my nose three times and throwing the wads of toilet paper in its bowl.
Although that is a perfect measure of its dysfunction, it was, quite tragically, not the first.
Easily blocked toilets are nothing new, but that teardrop-shaped channel is. New and bloody evil. Imagine taking a plunger to that. Imagine the force you apply, and imagine where the pressurized toxic water is being aimed.
The hippie grocery store across the street doesn't sell bleach, only gentle cleansers, so I had to hop in my car to buy the disinfectant necessitated by my hippie green toilet.
Slow clap.