She was bopping. He was grooving. Another chap was beginning to shuffle. Now they needed a fourth, and here she came, robot dancing her way over and only losing her mechanical composure when she trod on a hot turd that everyone else had found it easy enough to avoid.
He lifted his feet up to allow the cleaner to hoover under his feet – irritating, but not so much so that he had to stop stroking one off. Nor was the sound of her wiping down the sinks in her rubber gloves a reason for him to avoid letting out a loud gurgle and belch as he synchronised his ejaculation with a squelching fart.