Thanks To Some Thief, You Can No Longer Piss On Trump's Face At An Irish Bar's Urinal

HuffPo- A bar in Dublin, Ireland, is desperately seeking the return of its urinal mural of President Donald Trump.

The Adelphi made headlines across the world in August 2016 when it installed in its men’s bathroom the print of Trump when he was the Republican presidential candidate. But on Tuesday, pub bosses revealed it had been stolen.

They are now offering a €100 beer tab (around $118) to whoever brings the (presumably now completely urine-soaked) mural back.

“Our bathroom is just not the same without him and the enjoyment of using the urinal without Donald’s face on it has left us feeling sad,” bar staff wrote on Facebook.

The pub’s manager, Tony McCabe, told HuffPost that the picture of the president had “made the trip to the bathroom a ‘wee’ bit more entertaining” for regulars. He suggested it was likely now hanging on somebody’s wall “along with the DNA of thousands of Irish men.”

He denied some claims on social media, however, that it was a publicity stunt.

“It was really stolen, we find it hard to believe,” he told Independent.ie. “One of our barmen recalls a guy in on Monday asking many, many questions about it so he is top of our list [of potential thieves].”

You have to have some next-level Trump hate to peel a piss-soaked mural off a urinal and sneak it home inside your shirt. Gaaaadd almighty. Even writing that sentence has that urinal-row fart-piss smell wafting into my nose from dim memories of swaying over the trough, hoping the strength of your stream outlasts that of your neighbor. It’s not the size of your unit that matters; it’s the pressure of your flow.

I honestly can’t imagine anyone stealing this mural for the sake of a souvenir, so I have to believe that some guy who loves Trump took it as a way of upholding our president’s image. I don’t care what your politics are–that is sacrifice. Even a secret service agent, sworn to take a bullet for the President, would sooner retire than get their fingernails behind that piss paper. Scrape scrape scrape, peel, roll, and then wring it out like a sponge. GAHHHH!

PS- the 3 women reading this probably have no idea what I’m talking about. Mens’ bathrooms at bars are the end of the earth. You ladies have no idea how lucky you have it, in your G5 bathrooms with pristine toilet seats, heated floors, and platters of post-dump finger sandwiches. You could perform a surgery on the floor of any women’s restroom and there would be zero threat of infection. Like any desperate male, I’ve found myself using the ladies’ on a few emergency occasions. You tentatively pull the door open, pitch your voice higher to do your best “woman,” and say “anyone in here?” With the coast clear, you run in and even with your bladder on the verge of exploding, you appreciate the pristine atmosphere, the scent of lilies, and the welcoming lighting. It feels like home.

So about that 80 cents on the dollar issue? Let’s call it a bathroom tax.