A legislative scandal – must we call this ‘Toiletgate’?

Members of the Hong Kong Legislative Council had a moment of excitement earlier this month, when an empty condom packet was found in one of the LegCo building’s toilets.

Readers may share my bewilderment as to why this excited an outburst of political attention. Perhaps legislators, knowing that half the population already regard them as a load of lazy ****ers, were anxious to dispel any rumours that this is literally true.

Initial suspicions were that the toilet itself was the scene of some erotic activity. The toilet concerned is an “accessible” model, which I presume is the currently acceptable euphemism for what in everyday language is known as a “disabled toilet,” although of course the toilet itself is not disabled.

A feature of this kind of toilet is that it has a room to itself; there are no gaps at the bottom or top of the doors or partitions often found in regular cubicles.

The occupant has genuine privacy. Also, there has to be enough floor space for a wheelchair driver to do a three-point turn, so there is room for activities usually undertaken in a horizontal position.

Early reports had it that the LegCo Secretariat did not think the finding worthy of investigation, but legislators insisted on an examination of video footage. Inevitably, there are cameras in the corridors of power, though not, I hope, in the toilets.

The Secretariat then reported that according to the all-seeing electronic eye, there had at no point been two people in the toilet concerned. A political assistant, we were told, had been given some fatherly advice about the disposal of litter. The Secretariat then considered the matter closed.

This is a little puzzling. Surely the objection – for those who do find it objectionable – is not just to sex in a toilet, but sex in the hallowed precincts of the LegCo building. Are we to believe that the user slipped the offending item into his pocket during a moment of passion in a Kowloon Tong love hotel, only to find it later in the working day?

The thing that puzzles me, though, is how this trivial matter came to be reported in the first place. Most of us, after all, on seeing some piece of litter in the bowl, will just flush it away and get down to business.

Is the alert user of a legislative loo expected to isolate the setting as a crime scene and call security?

The problem with this is that the finder presumably needs to answer a call of nature, so staying in the toilet without using it is a big ask. Or is the finder expected to fish the evidence out and then proceed? Perish the thought.

It appears that the solution to this dilemma is clear to digital natives: you whip out your mobile phone and take a picture. And this, it seems, is what happened, because the picture eventually surfaced on the internet, as everything does sooner or later these days.

Let us pause here for a moment of nostalgia. Very few of the corporate giants of my youth have survived into the 2020s, but it seems that Durex is still going strong, serving the needs of those who want pleasure without pregnancy.

Connoisseurs of political scandal have not given up hope, according to media reports. If somebody is having sex with someone, we can always look forward to the possibility that one or both of the participants is famous and/or married to someone else.

As a topic for public excitement, though, this rather depends on having a genuine democratic system in which the fate of an erring politician depends on whether the electorate is offended by his crime.

An interesting piece of political writing the other day explored the prospects ahead of Tik Chi-yuen, the only legislator who did not run as a pro-Beijing or pro-establishment candidate. Mr Tik has voted for all the government’s major projects, including the new national security law. But that may not save him.

The revealing final thought was that the decision on the matter will not come from Mr Tik’s electorate. It will come from the chief executive. We voters know our place.