The bank holiday weekend brought back many memories of childhood pain. Discomfort in the dark corners of our mind – whinging, crying, fighting, battling to escape. Yes, that's right, we really needed to pee and there was nowhere to go.

While the recent developments in jetpack-fast motorways taking us from Cork to Dublin, Dublin to Galway, are all well and good for getting places quickly, what happens when one needs to use the WC?

Devoid of petrol stations or truck stops, all there is ahead is endless road leading into a Homer Simpson-esque 'flushing meadows' fantasy.

How we longed to waltz around the swish bathrooms of Mother Hubbards, or tip-toe around the serial killer territory of loos at the back of a Texaco.

Surely some enterprising sort will come up with motorway-size portaloos pretty soon? We're currently in the process of registering our own company, DFPF (Drive Fast Pee Fast.) See yiz on the hard shoulder.