The other day I was walking along the street enjoying summer and all it brings when I saw a mother bent over at the waist waving her finger at her son. Quite a common scene you may think: a mother telling her kid off, but read on. As I drew closer I heard between the boys’ sobs: “Mama, I need to pee!” She responded typically by saying: “Just hold on a bit, we’re nearly home!” And then the little scallywag replied: “But I need to go now!” So what happened? Something that is sadly all too common in the streets of Barcelona: she led him over to a rubbish container and, well, he did a fine job of watering the parched street.

Public piddling is not such a rare sight here in the streets of Barcelona. Why is that? Is it a cultural difference, a cultural cringe? No, it’s not. It is as simple as this - Barcelona and many other European cities do not have public toilet cultures. If one is on the street and needs to go to the toilet, one will either a: look for a bar or cafe or b: just go with the flow ie. urinate in public. And what does this amount to? A little and a lot really. It means that the streets, especially in the streets near Plaça Catalunya or La Rambla, have a peculiar smell about them, especially on a Saturday or Sunday morning and especially in the summer months.

Ciutat Vella has recently had enough of the aroma of pee drying in the summer heat. To stop those anonymous members of the public from doing it in public view, they have put into process a scheme that reminds me of Blackadder’s famous saying: "I have a plan so cunning you could stick a tail on it and call it a weasel."

You may say “What is this? This is nothing! What about crime, poverty, the price of housing?” Well, as well as the uncivil nature of it all, let me elaborate a little by painting a picture. Imagine getting up, having a wonderful breakfast wearing your favourite clothes (don’t try and deny it, we all have our favourites). You run downstairs, not bothering to catch the lift because you are in such high spirits that you think you could fly down if you wanted to. You open the lobby door and splash, you put your foot into a puddle. “No problem” you think, “just a bit of rain”.

But then as you take off down the street you realise that we are in the midst of a drought and that little puddles like that don’t just get there on there own. And then later on it dawns on you as the ‘rain’ dries and a little whiff of an acrid aroma meets your nostrils as you’re about to unleash a magical idea to your boss, it hits you and you try and deny it. Your confidence drops a level or two and you know, there’s no doubting it, you’ve stood in a little present that someone who drunk too much left behind the night before and you know, your favourite clothes just won’t save you this time.

So what is Ciutat Vella’s plan of action? You would think that they would come out with a plan to build a few public toilets or putting pee police on the street, to bust those who look like they’re about to bust. It’s none of those things I’m afraid. No. They have decided to print 10,000 coasters with a message that will invite drinkers to go to the poky lavatory where they are rather than the wide open spaces of the street. Taxpayers cross their chests with trembling fingers thanking those who decided not to spend too much money on that problem. What wonders will they come up with next? Friendly reminders in the form of coasters …. Hmmm … yeah … pretty piddly idea if you ask me.

There is no doubting the fact that Barcelona has a multitude of bars and cafes and it is obligatory to allow a member of the public to urinate in your local if their need be great. But really, if we do the maths, when a city has this many eating and drinking establishments shouldn’t it also have enough public toilets available to provide for those who are in transit? I have been told that Barcelona had a few ‘cajas’ that looked like telephone boxes without the telephone a few years back. They now seem to have disappeared from sight because of inappropriate usage or sad Doctor Who impressionists.

But the question still remains. Where to pee, where to pee? When one needs to go to the toilet, I mean, when one is hopping from one foot to the other, that is, desperate, then sometimes there is no other option than to stop, drop and let it roll. It is, in these times of desperate remedy, that we are reminded of our greatest weakness: that we are indeed mortal human beings and that no-one, not even the Queen of England, is exempt from having to go when she needs to. Although I have heard she has a portable golden loo ...

That brings me to my final point. Women need to be thought of more than men in these difficult situations. Indeed women, as we all know, can’t just surreptitiously duck around a corner to relieve themselves as easily as men can. Well, they can, and no doubt many do, but it just isn’t really the norm is it? This gives rise to contradictions and double standards we have about women and the fact that the Generalitat needs to pay a little more attention to the finer points of public toilets when it comes to the fairer sex.

So, what’s the answer? Maybe we should all down a few waters or wines and all march on the Generalitat with placards reading: “I need to pee!” or “Can I use your toilet?” And while we are waiting for an answer, maybe we should all just use their buildings as public urinals. Maybe then the message would get across that we need public toilets rather than friendly reminders to go to the loo in the bar.