IT wasn’t the sort of idea you expect from a gently brought up North Oxford girl! Madeleine Woolgar is the Oxford Playhouse’s ever-smiling press and marketing officer.

She wanted to boost the appeal to refurbish the theatre’s lavatories. Already, a classically ornate lavatory pan, far removed in style and cost from those the authorities intend to replace, had been mounted in the foyer.

The idea came from board member Caroline Laing who also provided the mock-Victorian blue and white loo to which a false lid was fitted, turning it into a money box with attitude.

Let’s take photographs of some celebrities sitting on the loo and paste them above it, Madeleine suggested. Before you could say ‘gentlemen lift the seat’, Simon Callow, Imogen Stubbs, Clive Mantle and the irrepressible Ruby Wax were pictured smiling and enthroned, while Tom Conti added an air of mystery, assuming an upright pose.

Like many, I had passed the object several times without noticing it. The photos now drew attention and made it impossible to miss.

Madeleine can take a bow for improving on the original good idea. She told me £5,000 of the £50,000 needed had been given, and it was hoped to do the work next summer once the rest of the cash had been flushed out.

Sorry, it was too tempting to pass.

BELOW the tower of St Michael at the Northgate is a favourite spot for buskers. On Monday, a small notice asked the city’s alfresco musicians to avoid performing there between 1pm and 2pm because a concert would be taking place inside; the alternative being to ‘play or sing very quietly’.

“That’s me out,” said the trumpeter moving further up the street. “Who ever heard of a quiet trumpet?”

I smiled when I saw who was to play at the concert. It was pianist Nick Gill, performing American Jazz, describing the event as Scott Joplin meeting Jelly Roll Morton.

The trumpet wouldn’t have stood a chance.

THE tall, blond-haired Brookes University student emerged from the O2 Academy in Cowley Road brandishing a colander.

“Why the colander – that yellow thing?” I asked.

“Oh, is that its name?” he said blandly. “ I’m not sure what it’s for.”

“Well, why have you got it? Incidentally it’s for draining foodstuff,” I said.

“Somebody gave it to me,” he said pointing to the venue, outside which there were hundreds of young people waiting to get in. Then I remembered; Freshers were abroad. It’s a time when opportunists, with generosity that can overwhelm and underwhelm in equal measure, try to make their mark with newcomers.

There were more colanders. It was like a fresh veg convention.

I hope these were not the only gifts on offer, otherwise there could be a run on runner beans, a paucity of peas and alarm over where the next carrot is coming from.