What is it about travel writers’ strange urge to piss in hotel sinks? First I read Notes From a Small Island, and within the first couple of pages Bill Bryson tries to shock our grandmothers with his casual sink pissing ways.

Now I pick up a far more excellent book, Moritz Thomsen’s The Saddest Pleasure (now sadly out of print), who waits a chapter or two to get from Ecuador to Brazil before he starts pissing in sinks too.

I mean come on. Everyone knows guys piss in sinks. We all do it, we just make sure no one is watching when we do. Cuz you know, we get sick of lifting that fucking lid for you ladies — so much easier to lay the ol’ trouser snake out all nice and comfy on top of the sink brim and let go with a refreshing stream. You just have to make sure to run the tap afterwards, or else the sink starts to smell like a urinal.