Trickle of consciousness: Poo

Posted on | July 14, 2009 | 3 Comments

I am Gerry’s Trickle Of Consciousness.

I’ve been thinking about poo.  About the ladies on the telly with the bulging handbags full of poo and the bulging bowels full of poo and I’m wondering, “why don’t they just have a shite?”  Perhaps I’m lucky in that I’ve never been afflicted by the ‘blowt’d’ sensations (who is that woman – I can’t place her).  For all I know all women are burdened by slow digestive transits – whatever they are – and all the poo just backs up; poo, upon poo, upon poo and begins to ferment and bubble and stew and, eventually, to produce fetid, nauseating gasses that smell like a nappy-landfill in a heatwave and have every seagull for miles circling their owner’s arse.  I especially like the ad with the woman plodding about, miserably bloated, until she takes the poo-tablet.  Her friend calls and she dances down the stairs, cheerfully shouting, “coming…” while, disappointingly, failing to add “…I’ve just had a big shite!”  That’s the ending I’d like to see.  Ladies, forget about the tablets and the yoghurt and the bifidus-regularis (how I’d love to dispense a good kick up the digestive transit to whoever thought that one up) and just grab a newspaper or a good book and lock yourself in the toilet for half an hour.  Pinch off a good-sized Bungle’s-finger and you’ll feel like a new woman.

“Coming…”

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