As Voldemort sat down onto the slab of cold stone that served as a "toilet" in the Malfoy Manor, he couldn't help but wonder about the backwardness of wizards who still used chamber pots. Chamber pots! He was pretty sure he remembered something about toilets being invented before Hogwarts was even a blueprint.
He sighed as he reminisced about looking over the charmed replacement for the old castle midden at Hogwarts. Truly a masterpiece of enchantment. Apparently, the fellow who designed it in the 20s vanished the waste into various muggle sewer systems in the surrounding area. Truly genius! Using the muggles as they were meant to be used, as servants to the magical world.
Another irritation began to "arise" as Voldemort's sensitive sense of smell picked up the various odors of the room. Wrinkling his "nose" in disgust, he once again wondered how these people could call themselves civilized when their idea of sanitary concerns still consisted of the occasional bath once or thrice a week. He really did miss the showers from Hogwarts. Ahh, the feeling of warm water cascading down one's back. The relief of tensions from a difficult day. Several of his followers had been shocked when he insisted on taking a bath as often as daily! At least Wormtail had an excuse for his offensive odor. The rat in him just begged for Voldemort to strike.
As Voldemort prepared to rise, he looked around and silently cursed himself for forgetting these people also never picked up on toilet paper! Barbarians.