"It's just down the end of the corridor on the left."
Terry just about had enough time before his first lesson. This was his first time teaching at this school and he was feeling a little nervous. He'd heard about this place before, and not all of the things he had heard had been good.
Just before the end of the corridor, he found the door marked:
and opened it.
But it wasn't a toilet. It was oak-panelled, for a start. It was a drawing room.
A man with a pencil moustache and morning suit stood to greet him.
"Welcome, my dear sir! I'm terribly sorry," he said, glancing at his pocketwatch, "I wasn't expecting you. Cigar?"
"Er, no thank you," said Terry. "Actually, I was looking for the toilet."
"Ah," said the man. "That would be the next door along. The one marked with a stick man."
"Oh yes, of course. Sorry. Thank you."
"Don't mention it, my good man. Here, let me get the door for you. Funny. You'd be surprised how often people come in here looking for the lavatory. Always seems to be men."
"Yes," said Terry. "Funny."
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