The Bogeyman

The Bogeyman lurks in the gentleman’s toilet at my place of work.

I am not talking about the demonic fiend that hides in your cupboard and leaps out when you’re asleep to kidnap and torment you to within a centimetre of your life. I am talking about the nameless and repulsive monster that performs an act of gross indecency within the cubicles of the male toilet.

This beast walks amongst us and I possibly talk to him every single day. When an innocent man walks into the toilet to answer a call of nature and chooses to use a cubicle he is reduced to a gibbering wreck if the Bogeyman was the previous occupant.

I know what you’re thinking; you are debating whether or not to read on. I urge you to do so because this kind of act needs to be stamped out and I feel that it is my mission to do so. Why? Because I am sickened whenever I am that poor unfortunate victim who has to bear witness to the antics of this cursed creature and I respect my fellow man.

So what is this grotesque act of offensiveness?

The Bogeyman, when perched on his throne, is obviously too bored to allow nature to take its course and decides to succumb to the urge to pick his nose. When he has managed to clean all of the snot from his right nostril, he doesn’t use the adjacent toilet roll to dispose of the detritus; he wipes it on the cubicle door. How revolting is that? And not content with trying to create a Picasso masterpiece from the dried mucus of his right nostril, he sticks his finger up the remaining nostril and hauls out the contents to reproduce another abstract work of genius on the wall just above the toilet roll dispenser.

WHY DOES HE DO THIS?

I have tried to shame the individual concerned to own up by expressing my displeasure at this revolting hobby – usually when there have been a group of us quaffing beer at the local pub – yet nobody confesses. In fact, everybody seems to find it highly amusing, so much so that I am beginning to suspect that there may actually be several Bogeymen whose sole purpose is to cover each cubicle in snot.

Thankfully I have two groups of allies; the cleaning staff who meticulously scrape the cubicle walls at the end of the day and my female colleagues who agree with me and find the whole thing utterly sickening.

One day I will find out who is responsible for this outrage. I have a dilemma, though. Should I name and shame him or leave a sticky note on the cubicle wall?

“Self Portrait” by “Mr Bogey Mann” (during his green period)