Need a New Nickname for Co-Worker

Let me give you fine folks a quick run down of why this young fellow needs a nick name.

Yesterday our company moved to a brand new building a few miles away from the building we’d called home for as many years as I can remember. This new building is swanky and Starbucksian, with oliveberry and drewdrop tan walls, ice machines in stainless steel refrigerators and even a small room off of the restroom containing lockers and a shower!

So this afternoon my esteemed coworker Scott is telling our mutual teammate, Angela about how awesome the men’s room is.

“Our shower has it’s own toilet! I feel kinda bad though, because I’ve kinda made it my personal bathroom. I just like having that big door that goes all the way to the floor so other people can’t see my shoes, ya know?!”

Angela and I were, of course, beside ourselves. “Why don’t WE have an extra toilet?!” “Go take a picture!”

So off Scott goes to snap a pic of his newfound glory.

Fast forward 10 mins, Scott is back at his desk and intentionally not making eye contact with me.

“Where’s our picture!?”

“Uh, so funny story…”

There is no toilet.

“But Scott, you said you’d made it your own personal toilet…”

“Yes, I know. I coulda sworn it had a toilet.”

“What, uh, what was where you thought the toilet was?”

“…a low sink.”
My sides STILL ache from laughing. So I must ask you, the brightest lot of folks I know, what colorful nickname should we call my poor, mistaken co-worker?

I’ve already come up with 1guy0toilets, but I think we can do better than that.

I got nothin’. But man… I enjoyed that.

Shit Don’t Sink.

The Insinkerator

In Sink (which everyone will think is In Sync, making it a bit more in-joke subtle)

Mr. Plumber

Scott the Pot?

“Twenty-watt” Scott, as in “refrigerator light”

Could go with the ever popular ‘shitbreak’.

Thomas Crapper.

My high school track team was pretty good and we were coached to act confident without being boastful.

On one occasion we took a very long bus ride to reach a newly built, very modern school.

A half-dozen of us were eager to "use the facilities, " but we didn’t immediately see any urinals.

Out in the middle of an open space was a large round, concrete tub-like thing with a circular bar under it. Stepping on the bar triggered the flow of water from a chrome circular pipe above the tub.

It was a bit high, but we weren’t going to let that intimidate us.

With other athletes wandering by, we stood there doing our thing, each of us looking at each other and feeling rather odd.

It turned out to be a sink.

I second “In Sink” especially if he’s well dressed and/or groomed at all. Outsiders will just think you are making fun of his vanity or terrible taste in music. They might even catch on to the nickname and unknowingly perpetuate the emarassment.

So he must have went #1, right. Right?!

Tinky Sinky.

Bison. (After telling the joke, “What’s the difference between a basin and a bison? You can’t pee in a bison.”)


Colonel of the Urinal.

He was pooing in a “toilet” that had no water in it?

he is " confusious "

. . . and for that matter, this toilet didn’t have toilet paper anywhere near it, nor did it flush? Was keeping his feet safe from prying eyes worth suffering the smell of raw feces and walking around with an epic case of poo-butt?

Johnny on the spot!


The Sink Stink Bandit.

An old joke:

An ethnic (Polish, Italian, Swede, whatever you like) is on his honeymoon and his bride is in bed but he’s a virgin and doesn’t know what to do. So he calls his father for advice.

“Take the hardest thing you have and put it where she pees.”

So he takes his bowling ball and throws it in the sink.
I’ll have to get back to you on the nickname.

Dunny Boy.

Sorta related story: Many years (about 35) ago I went on a road trip with my mum and my nanna to Nan’s birthplace in western NSW (a place called Forbes for those familiar with the region).

We stayed in a caravan park on the first night, and Nan toddled off to the Ablutions Block to have a shower. Ten minutes later she was back shivering, muttering and shaking her head about the primitive conditions to be had.

After much investigation, it became clear that Nanna had wandered into the men’s dunnies and had attempted to shower herself in the urinal. :stuck_out_tongue:

*My Nan never swore. She was a God-fearing Fundie Christian who thought my utterance of the word ‘bum’ enough to have me sent to the depths of eternal hellfire. For her to use the word ‘bloody’ meant she was deadly earnest and utterly friggin’ pissed-off about the shower. :smiley: