Just to continue in the vein of shit sketches recently...
A City Gent walks rather hurriedly into a lavatory.
Attendant:
Morning sir, what can I get you?
City Gent:
I'd like a shit, please.
Attendant:
Yes, sir, would that be the five minute shit or the ten minute shit?
The City Gent winces and gives a little strain.
City Gent:
I think the five minute ought to do it.
Attendant:
We've got a special on the ten minute shit this week, sir.
City Gent:
Mmmm..?
Attendant:
Yes, sir, you get the full ten minute shit, a seat and all the toilet paper you can eat, figuratively speaking that is.
City Gent:
Er, no thanks, I'm in a bit of a hurry, just give me the five minute, please.
Attendant:
I can chuck in a free pen.
City Gent:
Pen?
Attendant:
Yes, sir, very popular with the modern city gent, you should see some of the tits and fanny they draw, positive master pieces they are, you'd knock one out in no time.
The City Gent is beginning to feel the strain.
City Gent:
Look, I'd really...
Attendant:
I'll tell you what, sir, ten minute shit, your own deluxe seat, gold standard bog paper, a free pen and...
The Attendant looks around furtively.
Attendant:
I'll chuck in a free Sun newspaper, just wipe your arse on it once and you and the misses can do the crossword in bed together. Eight fifty, whatdya say?
City Gent:
I'm not married.
Attendant:
In that case you'll be needing a mirror, sir, call it nine quid for cash.
The City Gent hesitates momentarily, reaches into his wallet and hands over a tenner.
Attendant:
Got anything smaller, sir?
The City Gent grabs the toilet paper and runs to the nearest cubicle and slams the door.
Inside the stall the City Gent sits and breathes a sigh of relief, a knock on the door, he looks down, a newspaper is being slid under the door.
Attendant:
Your Sun newspaper, sir, will there be anything else, something for the weekend maybe?