A place to service men’s embarrassing conditions writes Steve Canavan

Why is it that the adverts in the men’s urinals at service stations are so depressing?
Motorway service stationsMotorway service stations
Motorway service stations

I pondered this as I stopped on the M6 the other day for a vastly overpriced coffee and a bacon sandwich made, I suspect, from appearance and taste at any rate, a minimum of seven days earlier.

Now I must temper my criticism of the adverts in the gents by stating I am a big fan of service stations. I find them quite enthralling in a childlike way. They are like giant spaceships at the side of our motorways and I always get a frisson of excitement when I enter one.

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Obviously this quickly wears off when you realise you’ll have to call your bank and ask them to transfer extra money across to your main account in order to purchase a small orange juice and a packet of fruit pastilles but, still, there’s something I can’t help but find thrilling about them.

I mean they’re like little communities. Where else, I ask you, would you be able to get a full English breakfast, buy some felt tip pens, have a go on a slot machine, browse a selection of Hollywood movies on DVD, purchase prawns from Marks and Spencer, and spend five-minutes on a giant leather massage chair, all the while just yards away from an endless line of cars careering past at 80mph? They’re wondrous places.

But my one complaint is in the loo.

Now I can’t talk about the ladies. I haven’t been in the women’s toilets since summer 2003, an incident which ended in arrest, a lengthy court case, an ankle tag and therapy sessions and is something never mentioned outside family circles. So keep it quiet.

But in every gents, at every service station I’ve ever frequented, placed at eye-level in the urinals, so you have no option but to look at it as you’re having a wee, are adverts.

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And they always, and I mean always, concern one of the following:

Male impotence. This advert will usually feature a picture of a ridiculously good-looking man (to show it can affect even hunks, so, come on, you know, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about), looking slightly wistful and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The slogan will contain some kind of double entendre, so that even before you, as a toilet-goer, have so much as had chance to unbutton your trousers you’re greeted with the words, ‘Struggling to get up? No power in your tower? Lost the perk-in in your gherkin? Well, worry no more. An erectile dysfunction treatment you can trust. Buy discreetly online and don’t let a hard day stop a hard night’. I’ve no idea if male impotence sufferers find these adverts helpful and reassuring but what I do know is that as a man not suffering from the condition, it makes me suddenly worry about it becoming a problem. Which is possibly what they want – to psychologically get inside your head so when it’s time to next perform, you can’t raise the flag, so to speak, past half mast.

Flatulence pants. I didn’t know these were a thing until I used station toilets. But in front of me on a recent motorway stop, alongside a huge picture of a man who, for some reason, was wearing a pristine white vest and white shorts and jumping ballet-style high into the air (so exactly the kind of every day pose us men adopt), were the words, ‘WE SELL FREEDOM’. The company name was Shreddies, who produce ‘flatulence filtering garments’. I particularly liked the bottom of the advert where there were various quotes, all unattributed I noted, presumably from satisfied customers. The first read, ‘I wanted to tell you that your product is a scientific miracle. I’m so glad I live in the decade this was invented.’

Amen to that. Forget all other scientific achievements, thank god we are alive in the era where a pair of pants can stop people smelling your wind.

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‘I just wanted to say,’ another quote started (which, I feel as a journalist used to editing work, is a slight waste of words, but there you go), ‘your underwear has literally changed my life. In a matter of seconds my one and only real problem was eliminated.’

Below that another line of text read ‘WINNERS OF THE ACA ‘LOOK GOOD, FEEL GOOD’ AWARD! Blimey, I don’t suffer from excessive flatulence but these things sound so amazing I’ve just ordered five pairs regardless.

And that’s it. You never see any other kind of advert in a gents toilet at a service station.

I mean I’m not suggesting they have adverts for, say, a burger and chips. Clearly when you’re standing having a wee in over-crowded, ill-smelling surroundings, you aren’t really going to be in the mood to think about food.

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But what’s wrong with ads for cars or DIY power-tools or clothing? Why do we need to be instead told about medical shortcomings in our most delicate areas?

It’s very odd because it doesn’t seem to happen in other public toilets, just those at the side of motorways.

Are long-distance HGV drivers – the main customers of these establishments - medically proven to be more susceptible to impotence and bad wind? Maybe that’s the reason. In a bid to find out I asked Geoff, a lorry driver who lives three doors up from me, but he punched me in the face and slammed the door. Touchy.

So there you go. Ladies, I like to think you’ve learned something today. And fellas, if you do suffer from bad trumping or a failure to stand tall, head to your nearest service station pronto.

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