Royal Flush or Total Wipeout? A Loo-se Look at Eton's New Throne Rooms:

As we made our way up the long drive and approached the grand, red-brick bastion of

athletic prowess that is Eton School's new sports complex, we naturally expected the toilet facilities to reflect the same lofty standards. Excitement was building for another virgin toilet experience and this reviewer could not wait.

Upon entry, we were greeted not by a charming butler or footman to lead us to our porcelain destination, but rather by a chorus of "povo" chants and a sprinkle of "bully, bully, bully!"— a most jarring welcome for those seeking to answer nature's call in peace. We did hope for signage, perhaps even gilded, but instead embarked on a rather ignominious hunt for the facilities. Upstairs, downstairs, not even in the lady’s chambers… It seems even at Eton, one must strive for everything, including finding the loo.

Once located, however, things improved somewhat. The motion-sensor lighting was a lovely touch, illuminating our path to the stalls with dignity. The ambient temperature was pleasantly warm – a notable improvement on most chilly poolside toilets - though, dare I say, lacking the decadence of the underfloor heating enjoyed by the swimming pool. Certainly, a notable oversight! Is it too much to ask to have toasty toes in the changing rooms too?

The lavatory itself offered a dry floor (which should be the bare minimum, but still, points for effort), and the seat was most agreeable, cushioning our experience with just the right blend of comfort and firmness. Hooks for coats and bags were provided, as one would not want one's blazer to mingle with any, ahem, less-than-aristocratic surfaces. And the toilet paper? Oh, splendid stuff. Soft, thick, and plentiful. It was practically monogrammed, though not quite up to handkerchief standards.

However, the real disappointment began in the finer details. The phone signal, alas, was a letdown of Etonian proportions. No Wi-Fi to distract oneself, no signal to post an Instagram #PreMatchPoo review or selfie, leaving one to ponder life's greater mysteries while staring at the decidedly unentertaining cubicle walls. A quiet flush echoed through the chamber—a reserved, almost shy sound, as if trying not to disturb one's fellow patrons in their silent evacuations. Admirable discretion, but perhaps a bit too quiet for my tastes.

And where was the plaque commemorating the fabled former school Water Polo captain Matt Finch? One expected at least a brass dedication to those who paved the way for bathroom etiquette in British sporting history. But alas, none. Deeply disappointing.

In conclusion, the facilities were perfectly respectable, but for a school of Eton’s grandeur, we anticipated something more... dare I say... regal. Sure, it’s a fine environment for a discrete deposit, but the lack of entertainment, signal, and heating left us yearning for more. A true gentleman’s loo this was, silent and efficient, but perhaps lacking that spark of excitement that makes one look forward to the next round.

Final score: a solid 7/10. The seat may have cushioned our rear, but it could not cushion the blow to our expectations.