What a bummer!
If size matters, how about sawing kitchen rolls in half?
Worse has happened to me in relation to that stuff, though. As a tourist in East Berlin in the late 60s, the inevitable result of drinking their (surprising good) beer took effect. Getting desperate, I saw a large sign saying "Toiletten", so dashed in, only to find men standing 4 deep, waiting their turn at the stones. But the adjacent cubicle was empty, and I was just unzipping in there when a uniformed Klofrau who looked as if she was a Stasi instructress appeared at the open door waving four sheets of the old-fashioned shiny paper, about the size of postage stamps.
She wouldn't release me until I bought them for some trifling sum. I've still got 'em somewhere, but no emergency dire enough to use them has yet arisen.
And in a similar vein, I regret having no camera with me more recently in Bremen, where the North German dialect of Plattdeutsch is so common that the city authorities saw fit to adorn an imposing brick edifice with bilingual signs saying "Toiletten" and, more expressively, "Scheithus".
Andy
