For all the women who, like me, spent an unhealthy proportion of their twenties queuing in girls’ toilets in various clubs and bars across London.

He’s got a penis like a pritt-stick.

Oooh, is that lipstick?

Ah babe, can I borrow it?

Thanks love. Your tits

look bangin’ in that top.

Girls, chop chop in there!

What they doing? My hair

looks a right state,

Mate, c’mon I’m fucking bursting.

Ah that’s well bling, I love it.

Yeah he’s so fit isn’t he,

Oh my god, I need to pee.

Shame about his chat,

that prat with him too,

He was well into you. He was!

Why? Cause I saw the way

he looked at you.

It was liiiike, twwwwitwoooo!

Ah why they taking so long?

That song! Yeah, such a tune.

Did you see?

Someone’s selling balloons.

Yeah £5 each.

Loo roll? Can you reach?

I know, such a joke.

Oh c’mon girls, stop snorting coke

or whatever you’re doing in there!

To be fair, about four of them

went in together,

I don’t care!

Oooh check out that leather,

that’s well lush.

Yessss! I heard a flush!

About fucking time.

With soda and lime, thanks hun.

Old school trance in room two?

Go dance, I’ll find you.

Jeez, these mirrors aren’t kind.

Err, I think you were behind us darl.

Wow, she had a snarl on her.

Has anyone got a spare tampon?

Who do you mean, the camp one?

He is!

Oh my god, thanks so much,

you’re a life saver!

Yeah, the little raver kid, I was like,

don’t touch what you can’t grip.

Gave him the slip.

This is my ‘I need a wee’ dance.

I’ll take my chance in the men’s soon.

I know, right, the guys never have to queue,

Always the girls loos! Same everywhere,

so unfair. They don’t care.

Shall we pee on the floor, go on, I dare you.