Dermot Jaye, Stylish Masturbator
A NANO-BREAK is like a mini-break for the genuinely important.
Pioneered by lifestyle innovator, architect, cyborg and close personal friend Morton Jax, the nano-break condenses the travel experience into 117 minutes, which psychologists believe is the maximum length of time a high-status person can spend before a really vital email arrives.
It is also the running time of the film Three Days of the Condor which is notable for Rob Redford’s chambray shirt. But that is a coincidence.
My current wife, a former beachwear model, and I recently nano-broke in the Georgian spa town of Bath.
Exploding out of the train station on our matching Segway scooters, our plan was to hit 14 boutiques, enjoy a 12 minute pamper experience and then swallow a cream tea before taking in a specially-abridged performance of Jerusalem where Mark Rylance speaks very quickly.
But these best-laid plans soon fell into disarray. Despite the protestations of my long-legged spouse, for sheer edgy cool you cannot top masturbating in a disabled toilet in the provinces.
When we chanced upon the aforementioned facility during our blurry sprint around the Georgian splendour, I had to avail myself. My reluctant wife was despatched to guard the door, telling people that her brother was in there having a fit.
Things came fully unglued when, I feel into a spontaneous post-onanistic slumber, waking 92 minutes later on the toilet floor with a queue of angry wheelchair users outside baying for my blood. As I made my escape, I’m fairly certain I dodged a flying colostomy bag.
Perhaps the nano-break pushes us too far. For the cash-rich and time-poor I think the future of life maximisation lies in cloning – while one of me is enjoying a cream tea, the other is locked in a disabled toilet with his trousers around his ankles.