Of course, I've always known the correct way to hang a toilet roll was with the end of the roll (or is it the beginning?) flowing, cascading over the top. I also have a laminated sign confirming as such, with full instruction as to its eventual replacement. The relief and considerable satisfaction that I was not alone in the world with regard to this social divider (and many others) is such that I feel compelled to write a review for this story.
Right from the beginning I felt I knew Tarquin, and before I was into chapter two, I was falling headlong into his world of canteen dinners, corrupt orders for commodes, out of date sausages and the marriage vows of several strange couples. It was strangely believable.
It's the ramblings of an off the wall mind, but all the more delicious for that. I read it during the X-Factor and it fitted the time scale perfectly; worth knowing.