Troubling Britishisms

This post doesn't really have a date to go along with it.
It's more just a series of observations I've made during my time in Orkney which I've found troubling.
Pitfalls are the joys of travel, and I wouldn't be travelling if I never saw anything strange or did anything... well, culturally ignorant.

It started early on, when I would wander around Kirkwall and look at all the shops and restaurants. Occasionally I would see one of two very strange things. Some establishments had a sign saying "Licensed Restaurant" while others advertised a "Public Bar." Now these terms themselves aren't all that troubling. I would assume all restaurants would be licensed to be a restaurant and that Bars would be open to the general public.
The troubling thing is that in stating such a property of the establishment it tends to imply that there are establishments in which the corollary is true. But why would anyone go into such a dodgy establishment as an "Unlicensed Restaurant" and what is the point in even listing a "Private Bar" ?
Such listings don't have a point - but, surprise surprise, I was way off base.
As it turns out, "Licensed Restaurant" means that the establishment has a licence to sell alcohol. Unlicensed restaurants, not that you would see such a sign, still have to follow food health and safety. And "Public Bar" shows up when there is a pub in a hotel, but the pub is open to the pubic.

Next we have this little beauty:

Toilet Light. This isn't my first trip to the UK, and I really should know better, but still this was the image that instantly came to mind.

Please tell me I'm not the only one.
The reality is much less interesting.

We prim and proper Americans would refer to this room as the "bathroom" regardless of the presence of any actual bath. The British call the room the toilet. Really why skirt around the subject?
Of course this is in a hostel, so I've known more spacious broom cupboards, and it's Scotland so the switch for the toilet light is on the outside of the actual room it's intended for.

So some time later I cut my finger. It wasn't a bad cut... actually it was an incredibly small cut (almost literally a paper cut), but we all know those sting like hell.
So I go to the desk at my hostel and ask:
"Can I get a band-aid and some neosporin?"
"A what?" I'm asked as though I suddenly started speaking Greek.
"You mean a plaster, and what?"
"Neosporin..." I offer sheepishly... "It's like an antibacterial cream"
"Like an antiseptic?"
"Sure..."
So I was given a plaster and an antiseptic wipe... Apparently, neosporin is an American thing... you never really know which brands permeate international boarders.

For the record, this foreign object is known as a plaster. Who knew?

My last pit fall is a layover from my previous trip to the UK... and it remains, in my opinion, the one unforgivable sin this country commits. I mean, it's a paper cut of an issue. They say no place is perfect, and in my opinion this is the reason why the UK is not perfect.

I kind of think this picture says it all. Whenever, I mention this they say "ohh the plumbing is old." So are we to assume that the rest of the world has state of the art piping, but the UK (a first world country) just hasn't gotten around to it?
No, I'm sorry that's not an answer. This is an inferior system found across most sinks most everywhere in the UK.

And on that cheery note, this is where I think I'll leave you. Enjoy washing your hands with a mixed tap. Rest assured knowing that I'm jealous.