I have tried to teach the basics of life to you children. Say 'thanks', I have drilled. Put your undercrackers on when cartwheeling in front of anybody other than immediate family. Ask if anybody is hungry before you take the last croissant.
But I have neglected to teach you a critical point of etiquette, it seems. I am talking to you here Ivy. When you are busting to go to the toilet, and the toilet is occupied, you must hang on. It's not acceptable to go in and physically push the person already on the toilet off their perch.
They will get mad, shouting will ensue, and somebody will piss on the floor. I am probably looking at you here Theodore.
Next, then your mother will come along; middle-aged, frazzled, and thinking about forty things at once, and she will slip on the wet floor, and she will break her toe.
And she will show it to the GP the next day, when she is discussing your asthma, Ted, and the doctor will say that it might not just be the toe that is broken, but the top of Mum's foot, and if this is true Mum must wear a massively unsexy and cumbersome boot.
Not cool kids.
Not cool at all.
Pick up your socks please.*
*And by thus I mean actually, literally, truly, pick up your socks, for the love of Jehovah, and put them in the laundry basket.