The Colonnade, Brighton

Enriched as it is with a sense of thespian glory – it borders Brighton’s Theatre Royal and has surely slaked the thirst of many a cottonmouthed player – you might expect a sense of drama at The Colonnade.

On descending the narrow stairs to the loos, tension is immediately increased by what must be the Georgian building’s least-emphasised highlight – hairy walls. Shouldn’t this sort of thing be on the national news? Permeating the leaden chipboard, wisps of grey downy whisker tickle the hands of those headed underground. There doesn’t appear to be any explanation for this, but the fluff only encroaches from the right-hand side – which is where the theatre is. Coincidence? Unlikely. Are the wisps remnants of Charlotte’s web? Shylock’s rheum-spattered beard? Or a ghost of The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical itself? It’s intriguing, anyway, if probably not terribly hygienic.

After this wonderment, the toilets themselves are pleasingly straightforward. Exceptionally clean in scent and sight, and with soap provided trustingly from a bottle of Carex in place of a nailed-to-the-wall dispenser. The only potential pitfall is as a result of the space’s rather claustrophobic dimensions – gentlemen approaching the sink would be advised to keep an eye on the cubicle door on the right. If it is opened suddenly then expect to be mercilessly smashed into the wall, hand dryer, or man standing awkwardly sideways-on trying to dry his hands. Fortunately, The Colonnade’s clientele are too refined for such clumsiness.