What goes on behind closed doors

It was a sign of the ever changing times that whilst in one room on the third floor of the Parkside Hotel a husband was busy telling his wife of 26 years that her bottom most certainly didn't look big in the dress she'd just squeezed into, whilst behind another door a few rooms down, a woman in her 20s seemed positively thrilled when her latest beau had told her the complete opposite. Mission apparently very much accomplished for both men. Life was simply far easier when all you had to do was never actually make the mistake of looking at your significant other's derrière and confirm that her worst fears weren't being met by whichever of the half dozen outfits she had tried on and finally decided had best fitted the bill. Of course as every husband the world over knew it was always the first outfit that she'd tried on that she was going to eventually wear out if you paid enough attention to such things and hadn't been driven to distraction by being late for the tenth time that month alone whilst trying to get out of the door on time at least once. Now for some reason big bums were en vogue and something to be aspired to along with a look like your significant other had punched you in the mouth having stumbled home blind drunk from the pub but by some good fortune had left the swelling but not the bruising. Now you have to learn the answer to the question of whether bums looking big is good or bad and run the risk of a fat lip with the bruising to match if you get it wrong. 

On the second floor a female guest had worked out the perfect use for the Gideon bible that was laid hidden in a top drawer and had just sent the body of a spider splattering underneath it having clearly not stopped to read the part within that declared that thou shall not kill. On the fifth floor a salesman was stepping out of the shower that had first run as cold as ice from the arctic circle, then finally adjusted to the perfect temperature for all of twenty seconds before rising to something not far off the temperature of volcanic lava and dropping suddenly all the way back down again to arctic ice. To compound his misery he's just discovered the only towel in his room is about the size of a handkerchief owing to the fact that the Polish maid who'd attended to his room earlier in the day was attending more to her phone than her work duties. 

On the sixth floor a man was trying to turn on the TV in his room unaware that the guest previous to him had lightened the controller by one of the batteries that had handily fitted into the portable transistor radio he liked to carry with himself upon his travels like it was still 1982.  

On the seventh floor a man was bemoaning to his wife that the kettle in their room could only be filled for one mug at a time and that they weren't normal sized mugs either but some diet version of a standard size and worse, there were only two tea bags so did they want a hot drink now or did they use them come the morning? He was vocalising in addition that his grandparents wouldn't have had such bad rationing during the second world war and he was probably right in fairness. He was just starting onto a diatribe about reusing them again given the dietary size of the mugs when his wife snapped and told him to go down to Tesco and buy a box of teabags to which he dutifully obeyed. Just as the door was shutting on him having picked up his coat and wallet she shouted at him “and some ginger nuts,” and he waited until the door shut before retorting “I'll ginger nut you in a minute,” under his breath and jumped as his wife's voice bellowed though the door after him “I heard that!”