Those Hollywood fellows Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney are never far from social media virality. Last week they were at it again. For reasons that remain unclear, the pair of them have bought Wrexham AFC, in the fifth tier of English football, and pumped some money into the place. Now Reynolds has made McElhenney a birthday present of a urinal at the club’s stadium, placing a commemorative plaque next to it.
This put me in mind of a friend of mine, the late and much-missed Jon Brookes, drummer with the Charlatans. When West Brom demolished their home fans’ end of the stadium, he nicked some bricks from it for an extension that his brother, another West Brom fan, was getting built. It was only on the way home with the bricks, in his brother’s Capri, that they realised the bricks were from the toilet block. The stench was awful. But, like the true fans they were, they used them anyway and after a few months the smell abated.
I was also reminded of the urinal I have in my flat, sitting below a stained glass window, featuring West Brom’s crest. I’m very proud of it – the urinal more than the crest. I’m a great enthusiast for urinals in the home. This is an enthusiasm shared by very few people, especially women, who have been known to retch at the very sight of it. This baffles me. Many a chap has been chastised about his incompetent use of conventional toilets – poor aim, not putting the seat down, and so on. Well, here’s the answer: a receptacle at the correct height for ease of use, which is neat, tidy, clean and flushable. It changed my life. Gentlemen – or anyone with a penis – trust me: it is wonderful to have a toilet of one’s own.
• Adrian Chiles is a broadcaster, writer and Guardian columnist
