No glass pane the last time I was in the pub (3 years ago?). While I lived in the city and was quite often in this venue I never saw or heard about someone assaulting the poor (and very skinny) guy in the hole.
edit: Argh, I misremembered (should have asked my friends before posting…)
Trust me, if a woman has to go (or is worried about imminent blood stains), the presence of a urinal does not dissuade.
Perhaps you have just explained the real reason for keeping men’s and women’s toilets separate. 
At one time in my life I organised parties for teens (16+ = legal beer ; ) ).
In the male toilets it was sufficient to generously use a pressure washer, the female half of the restroom was quite often actively vandalised (3 rolls of toilet paper pressed into the bowl et al).
A friend of mine is janitor in a secondary school (age group about 10-15), he confirmed my experiences with even younger girls and boys.
Oh. I hear horror stories from across the aisle. And the few times I’ve been in ‘the ladies’ I’ve been puzzled as to why the location is treated so poorly, especially as the interior decoration always seems to be far superior.
All I’ll say is that I had never thought soiled feminine hygiene products could be used as art supplies.
I think I might have mentioned my “ideal bathroom” before on here, but ideally you’d have a row of non-gendered, generously-sized, sound-baffled stalls with completely closing and locking doors that clearly indicate occupancy. The sinks would be in a row on the outside of the stalls, so that hand-washing is the last touching of any bathroom implement, and the visibility of the sink encourages handwashing “best practices”…
and fuck urinals. Dudes who can comfortably pee with their backs exposed to the wandering masses are way too out of touch with their lizard brains to be setting the standard to bathroom equipment.
This may be the prettiest bathroom, but far from the best.
Some people would still shit in the sinks. 
The weirdest/worst bathroom thing I ever had to deal with — aside from predictably bad situations like music festival portapotties: Working as a barback at a small club. Customer tells me one of the toilets isn’t flushing right. Doesn’t seem to be stopped up, the lever just isn’t working right. Opened up the tank and in there amongst the works… a large turd mummified in toilet paper.
I’d seen drunken upper-deckers before, but this is baffling to this day, lo these many years later. Someone, somehow, for some reason, had the presence of mind to:
So this wasn’t some drunk stumbling around with his pants around his knees, and it wasn’t someone trying to make my life as unpleasant as possible (or they wouldn’t have bothered with the paper, just shat directly into the tank.) There was almost a ritual aspect to it, like finding a decapitated rooster nailed to the barn door.
I fully expect to go to my grave still mystified.
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