The ballad of Old Greasy Thighs

I once worked with a largely unpleasant fellow. He was largely unfriendly, largely unsocial and largely large. He needed a specially designed chair to support him that looked like it was purchased off of a Paramount lot after shutting down one of the multitude Start Trek incarnations.
However, antisocial behavior was not his most off-putting characteristic.
You did NOT want to use a restroom after him.
Not for the usual scatological reasons, but for the unearthly residue.
After he exited the stall, the toilet seat sported a coating of greasy dark fuzz. The fuzz was reminiscent of the cheap coating of "fur" that adorns inexpensive plastic toy animals.
What it was, and how he transferred it, is nothing that I care to know.
Hence, the nickname "Old Greasy Thighs".
If you ever work with him, be sure to carry gloves, a scrub brush and disinfectant.
Or use a neighborhood "Kwik-Kee-Marte" restroom. It is likely to be less offensive.