It seems apt that whilst reviewing this fat, silver oaf, I noticed that some talented young pen-user [may or may not have] scrawled their latest comedy musing beneath its hefty hull. Here, in front of millions of interweb-lookers, is that message:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
I once had a friend called Harold. We've all had a friend like him haven't we, eh? Yeah, we've all had a friend like Harold. You know the ones I mean, don't you? Like Harold? My old mate Harold? We've all had a friend like him. Yeah, you know the one I mean. Mine was Harold. Do you remember? Eh? You remember what your friend used to say to you don't you, eh? Just like my old mate Harold, I bet! Yeah, I remember old Harold. I remember what he used to say. Yours was the same, I don't doubt. Because we've all had one. Like Harold. 
This cheeky-chappy of a dryer comes complete with instructional descripto-words:
It seems prudent to note, fellow faithful Hand Dryer hunter, that moments after discovering this hand dryer, indeed seconds after taking the photo you see above, the entire unit was covered in blood. 
What did I do, mm? What was it that I did to the designer of this hand dryer, eh? Did I smack him in the chops? Hm? Did I find his mother and tell her she was as rough as puke in a sock? Did I? Did I threaten to paint a red mark on his front door and tell his neighbours that he had AIDs? Did I put my flannel in his mouth as a joke? Did I send him a bottle of rare 1787 Chateau Lafite Bordeaux wine, knowing full well that he would have been happy with a £5 bottle of Blossom Hill? Did I sit opposite him on the Tube, intentionally staring at his groin with a smile on my face? Did I go into Waterstones, find a copy of Margeret Thatcher's biography and replace each occurence of the word 'Conservative' with the name of his first born child? Did I visit his house dressed as a doctor and tell him that he would die in a matter of hours because I'd discovered that his DNA was made primarily of plasticene? Did I impregnate his pet chinchilla with some toothpaste I found on the bus? Did I cough in his fucking eye?