No, I'm not kidding ... and no, it's not a snide reference to some of Delhi's less salubrious facilities ...

That's right, folks. There really and truly is an International Museum of Toilets - we have visited it and returned to tell the tale.

Deciding that we needed something more than your run-of-the-mill tourist attraction to pad out our final Delhi day, we headed for the pre-paid auto-rickshaw booth near Conaught Place.

It's quite embarassing to have a confused traffic cop bellowing, 'IN-TER-NATIONAL MU-SEUM OF ... TOILETS?' to an audience of three equally bemused rickshaw drivers, but finally, we managed to get our point across.

And then we were off - and boy, was it far. We drove and drove and drove some more until we finally pulled up in some of Delhi's industrial outskirts.

Walking into the unprepossessing concrete yard, we had no idea what to expect. Two huge portable trailers painted jailhouse green loomed up - one labelled 'Mens', one labelled 'Ladies'. Yup, this was the place!

A helpful Indian gentleman spotted us and ran up eagerly. We had no language in common, but he signed that he was going to fetch a key.

We waited in an adjacent compound which was like an outdoor toilet expo. Every sort of log-lined pit you might care to install in a village was proudly being spruiked like nobody's business.

But when we were ushered inside, the specialness really began. I'm at a loss to describe the 'museum' except to urge you to imagine every poor-taste poster featuring toilet humour you've ever seen pinned up end to end in the manner of a Hard Rock Cafe-style interior.

Some of them were on lightboards, for God's sake. There were even things like framed newspaper accounts discussing Ben Affleck's perverse desire to get J-Lo the best gilded and bejewelled toilet seat money can buy.

Ohmigod.

Unfazed, the lovely attendant began to give us a wordless guided tour. Ushering us over as if to reveal a particularly fine specimen, he paused at something calling itself the PortaPotti. Very delicately, he slid the latch, flipped the lid and allowed us to peer inside.

We made appropriately enthusiastic noises, and so were led around to the next jewel in the crown: the All-American Incinerating Toilet.

Sadly, we weren't allowed to actually zap any poo, but I was taken by the fact that the toilet's marketing slogan was 'That Electric Toilet!'

I found that slogan quite audacious, really - as if the whole world was so aware of its existence that we could be relied upon to collectively exclaim, 'there's THAT electric toilet again!'

In amongst the actual toilets, the toilet posters and general toilet-trivia was this whimsical display:

The attendant lovingly pressed the 'TRY ME' button on the toilet on the right, and stood back listening to its tinny flush-and-gurgle routine with the pride of a new father.

It was strange and hilarious and endearing all at once.

Here in this tiny museum there is a zealous belief in the wonders of the toilet, and to be honest, you kind of get caught up in it.

After ten or so days in India, when you see a huge lightboard saying, 'PUBLIC DEFACATION: SOCIAL CURSE' it's hard not to scream, 'right on!'

Refusing a donation of any sort, the attendant led us into a nearby room that housed a library. Here, we were solemnly handed two whopping great packets of literature about the history of toilets, the purpose of the toilet museum and the back-story of its founder and patron.

Surreal and amazing! Two thumbs up.