Are you watching my poo?

A year ago I had central heating installed in my house. I can tell you, the day that was switched on was a truly happy day indeed. No more wearing two jumpers indoors. No more listening to your shit land with a slap on a sheet of ice. No more blinking through your own piss steam. Oh, good times.

Anyway, I digress.

The engineer who installed the system was up for review by his accrediting body last week. The assessor came round and basically told him he would have to change a few things if he wanted to keep his registration. One of those changes was the replacement of a sewer access panel for an airtight, fire resistant panel. Obviously it’s not going to be a simple change is it? No, that would make everyone’s life easier and leave much time for drinking buckets full of tea. No, a chamber has to be constructed to accommodate the new lid. You see where this is going don’t you? Yup, the sewer was open and exposed for most of the morning… and I needed a poo since 9am. By 10am I was convinced I was actually sitting on a poo. Seriously, you couldn’t have called that a turtlehead. A dog’s head would be more accurate.

Face it, if your poo looked like this you’d crap yourself again.

Anyway, after a happy inspection I discovered no shit in my pants. My glee was shortly replaced however by the simple fact that I just had to go. A pressing need to give birth to this ‘brown baby’ meant I could no longer avoid the toilet. My genuine fear that the workmen outside would not only hear my flush, but also watch my poo float by was soon overtaken by a sudden contraction in my lower gut. The baby was on its way.

I’ve had many scary poo’s in my life but this one takes the biscuit. There’s something particularly invasive about a workman, working on your property, who is also a friend, laying eyes open your poo as it sail past. I did think about wrapping it up in tissue, but I didn’t want him to consider for one second that I had taken the time to gift-wrap it.

Even if presented like this, it is never okay to gift-wrap a turd.

I’ve no idea if they did watch my faecal matter slither past, and frankly I hope they never mention it if they did.

On that strange thought, I shall adjourn for the time being and go and make a bacon sandwich. Oh, and a cup of tea.

Later,

M.