THE LAST STRAW/Frank McNally: Returning to the subject of misleading signs, a distressed reader has written to me about the new National Gallery extension. It's lovely, says Frank Neenan, but he had a traumatic experience there recently when attempting to use the toilet facilities. The doors are on either side of a sign marked "F" and "M," and this being the National Gallery of Ireland, he naturally assumed these letters stood for "Fír" and "Mná" respectively. That was until he chose the former and discovered it was for "Females".
No doubt there are Irish-speaking women who have been even more surprised to find themselves among the "M" people. But the Irish question apart, this sign seems misguided. The letters "F" and "M" just do not have the instant recognition required for the job, especially at a time when the words most people still associate with them are "Foot" and "Mouth".
Come to think of it, this is an even more worrying choice to offer somebody who's only trying to go to the toilet.
But the potential public confusion doesn't stop there. "Fathers" and "Mothers" are another obvious high-risk group. And considering the number of foreign visitors to the gallery, there are international issues too. For example a German "fraulein" might pick the right door, by accident, but a Spanish woman (or "mujer") is at a cultural disadvantage.
True, compared with its alphabetical rivals, "F" does have a high profile internationally. Some so-called "F-words" are among the best-known in the English language (a constant embarrassment for the producers of Sesame Street, which has frequently been sponsored by the letter F). But "female" is not one of the more famous.
In fairness to the gallery, I should point out that, beyond the F & M sign, the toilet doors do have those little international icons for men and women. These are themselves controversial, in that they assume all women wear skirts, and they also ignore groups with special needs, like Scottish rugby supporters.
But if you've tuned your dial to the F/M wavelength, as it were, you may not even see the icons. Especially if you're male and have learned from an early age never to show hesitation in or around a public convenience.
Personally, I wouldn't be too embarrassed to find myself in a women's toilet. In fact, I've been in several of them in recent weeks, deliberately. And my wife assures me that it's perfectly acceptable, whenever the compulsion arises.
I should explain that on each of these occasions, I've been accompanying my three-year-old daughter. One of the big drawbacks of three-year-old daughters is that, even when you're in a public place and the female parent is not around to deal with the situation, they still need to go to the toilet. Usually at short notice. Sometimes I plead with her that if she can hang on, we'll drive home at speed, with a Garda escort. But in cases of emergency - which, with three-year-olds, accounts for roughly 100 per cent of cases - you just have to find the nearest toilet.
And despite the fact that my daughter has witnessed her younger brother running around the house naked, gripping himself in a lewd manner and shouting "I've got a willy! I've got a willy!" (we don't know where he learned this, but I swear it wasn't from his father), a women's toilet is the preferred option.
NEEDLESS to say, this is a whole new area for me, geographically and culturally. As I touched upon earlier, being a man means observing a vast body of etiquette about public-toilet use, which has evolved over several millenniums but remains mostly unwritten, except for a couple of general points in the Book of Leviticus. You don't even have to think about these rules - you just know them.
As soon as you pass through the door with the skirt-less figure, for example, you avoid eye-contact like it's a communicable disease. Also, no matter how avant-garde the toilet design, you make a prompt (but hopefully informed) decision as to which are urinals and which are washbasins. And then - this is the cardinal rule - you never, ever, choose a urinal nearer than necessary to one already occupied, unless there is a very good reason, such as a clearly visible plumbing problem.
All this knowledge is useless in a women's toilet. Indeed, I would offer interesting observations here on the differences, except that I don't have any. This is because on the occasions I've had to enter these places, I've kept my eyes fixed firmly on the floor and pretended to be somewhere else.
But Frank Neenan's warning is a useful one. I've been meaning to bring the kids to the new gallery for ages. And at least now I know what to look for, to avoid ending up in the men's toilet by mistake.