Trigger warning: This is a column you may not wish to read over breakfast. It contains references to lavatories and bodily functions.

I shall do my best to address these subjects in, as Kenny Everett’s Cupid Stunt used to say, the best paaaassible taste, but if you are tucking into a Full English it might be wise to put this page aside until later.

Labour-led Cambridge City Council has just opened a new public convenience block which contains three ‘squat-style’ toilets, said to be ‘preferred by some international visitors’.

These basically consist of three holes in the ground and cost a pound a pop to use. (Whatever happened to ‘spending a penny?’)

They are sited opposite Queens’ College and cost £1million to build after the previous 1980s block kept flooding.

We’re told they are considered to be more hygienic because users do not come into skin contact with a seat. They are common in China and India, and are often used in public toilets in France, Italy, Greece and throughout the Middle East.

So what? There are plenty of practices common in other countries – such as foot-binding, eating horsemeat, public executions and throwing homosexuals off tall buildings – but that doesn’t mean we have to adopt them here.

If China, India, France, Italy, etc, aren’t prepared to make concessions to British tourists, then why should we provide special facilities for them?

The £1 entry charge is intended to cover maintenance, including cleaning, and will discourage unspecified ‘misuse’ of the toilets. Don’t ask.

If my single, nightmare experience is anything to go by, the cleaners are going to need all the money they can get.

After a particularly heavy night on a football tour of Northern France, I once had the misfortune to avail myself of one of these squat horrors. There was no other option available.

I’ll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say the aftermath was less ‘I’d give it five minutes’, more ‘Call the fire brigade’.

International visitors may prefer squat toilets and be accomplished in using them, but what about locals caught short?

Cambridge resident Heather Boyd, 60, told the BBC: ‘If I’m going to spend £1, I’m not going to squat as well. That is absolutely crazy.’

Still, now that Cambridge has dipped its toe in the water, so to speak, don’t be surprised when other councils follow suit.

Public toilets are top of the political agenda in some Loony Left boroughs.

Green-run local authorities in London – Lambeth, Hackney, Waltham Forest, Haringey, Lewisham and Southwark, where the party shares control with the Lib Dems – are defying the Supreme Court ruling and the Equality And Human Rights Commission’s guidance that use of single-sex facilities, such as toilets and changing rooms, must be confined to someone’s biological sex, not the gender they identify as.

As a general rule, the Left treats Supreme Court judgments as holy writ, particularly when it delayed Brexit on a technicality. But when it comes to trans matters, they think they can defy any ruling they dislike with impunity.

No doubt they will start tearing down traditional toilet blocks and replacing them all with the squat variety for the benefit of recent immigrants and residents from different cultural backgrounds.

Soon, they’ll be funding special training courses for the rest of us to teach us how to use them without toppling over or missing the target. You’ll need to acquire the skill levels of a bomb-aimer on a Second World War Lancaster.

All this will be justified on the grounds of furthering the DEI (Diversity, Equality and Inclusion) agenda. Anyone who objects, especially online, will be slandered as a racist and can probably expect a visit from the Old Bill’s hate crime unit.

And in another alarming development, The Mail on Sunday reports that an ‘explosive diarrhoea’ bug, which has already affected 22,000 Americans – hospitalising hundreds and even killing two people – has arrived here.

It’s a parasite which originated in Mexico and lives and multiplies in the small intestine, causing weeks of abdominal pain and violent, watery diarrhoea. Some sufferers have described having to rush to the toilet up to 20 times a day.

We can only hope the bug hasn’t made it to Cambridge yet.

I'm told LBC rent-a-gob radio host James O’Brien reacted in a predictably petulant way to my column on Friday. Good.

Obviously, I didn’t hear it. As soon as the excellent Nick Ferrari finishes at 10am, I switch straight over to Ken Bruce in anticipation of PopMaster.

But readers who did tune in tell me it was the most spectacular on-air meltdown since Peter Finch’s ‘I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it any more’ tirade as a deranged TV presenter in the 1976 movie Network.

Apparently, O’Brien’s always slagging off the Daily Mail, and me in particular. Who cares?

It’s a badge of honour coming from a poisonous public school tosseur like him, posing as a tribune of the Left.

O’Brien, like Meghan Markle, has his own ‘truth’ and a tendency to believe only what he wants to believe, championing fantasists like convicted paedophile Carl Beech, anti-Tory smear merchants including Nonce Finder General Tom Watson and, most recently, disgraced professor Jason Arday.

He’s quite happy to tell lies about me, week in, week out, but throws his toys out of his pram when I tell the real truth about him.

Like so many on the Left, who delight in viciously trolling those with whom they disagree, he can dish it out but he can’t take it.

The great Julie Burchill, formerly of this parish, has a perfect expression to describe cowardly, smug prigs like O’Brien: Cry-Bully.

Friday’s column about my gammy knee op generated a flood of emails from readers asking for more information about the new treatment and wanting to be kept informed about how it is progressing. I’ve replied to everyone, I hope, and I’ll keep you posted.

One of my regular correspondents, Angus Long, even wrote saying that if it doesn’t work out he can get me a discount on a stairlift, as seen on Peter Kay’s brilliant series Phoenix Nights.

Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

I’m not ready to go the full Thora Hird just yet.

When the Everton and Scotland footballer Duncan Ferguson was sent to jail for assault in 1994, the newspapers nicknamed him the ‘Birdman of Barlinnie’.

It was inspired by the 1962 movie Birdman Of Alcatraz, starring Burt Lancaster, who played an inmate who had been allowed to keep birds while serving his sentence at another jail before being transferred to America’s top-security penitentiary.

Big Dunc’s nickname came about because he breeds pigeons and budgies and stuck, even though he wasn’t permitted to pursue his hobby in Scotland’s famous Bar-L in Glasgow. I wasn’t aware any jail in Britain allowed inmates to keep pets. But now we learn that HMP Northumberland is letting violent prisoners pet a hamster called Robinson to calm them down.

It’ll only be a matter of time before they’re granted ‘support animals’ of every kind, like those people who claim to be afflicted with Mental Elf ishoos. Soon the Scrubs could look like a menagerie-cum-aviary-cum-petting zoo.

Hamsters are one thing. But given that what happens in prison stays in prison, they should probably draw the line at gerbils.