Richard gets to the bottom of restaurant reviewing...
My theory goes that you can judge the calibre of a restaurant entirely from the toilets. There’s the communal unisex space with room-length mirrors in which trendy urbanites comb their beards. The executive washroom with tinted glass partitions between oversized ceramic urinals for the privacy of businessmen too busy on their phones to worry about aim. The dated, faux-sophistication of the staffed toilet, where a forlorn man in a hat sits hopefully between a small wicker basket full of cologne bottles and a small wicker basket not-so-full of tips.
Or how...
