Enchanted, I'm sure

"So we come out of the film and the kids both want to go to the loo," says Vicky. "So we go in and the first thing I see is one of those timetables by the door."

"You mean the ones that have to be initialled by the cleaners every hour, because they're linked to some implant that gives them an electric shock if they don't?" I say. "Well, it's got to be something like that, or why bother putting them up."

"That's right. And next to it is this sign. 'To ensure the highest possible standards, these facilities are regularly checked and cleaned by both female and male team members.'"

"And?"

"To give them their due, they had been conscientious. They'd made sure that every cubicle was missing its door and bog seat and accessorised with a large, unflushed floater in every bowl. They were even colour-matched, as far as I could tell. So full marks there, assuming that was what they were checking for. They certainly hadn't bothered to do anything else. I wouldn't mind so much except for the contrast with the film we'd gone to see."

"What was it?" I ask.

"'Enchanted,'" says Vicky.