Continuing on about my friend with the olympic connexions (no, not Austen, Thackery, but it puts me in the mood, you know). His illustrious job was to lead the swimmers from the pool to the place where they had to pee into a bottle. This sparked a large conversation about whether it is more difficult as a man or a woman to pee into a bottle. The guys refused to believe it was harder for us. We refused to explain in detail with diagrams precisely why it was, indeed, so. Can you blame us?