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.

Author: Mark S Thompson

Okay, so these things are kind of hit and miss. If you’re reading this then I am thankful to you for taking the time out of your day to do so. I’ll be honest, when I think of myself as a writer, I kinda cringe. Don’t get me wrong, it is the dream, it's​ just I never really believe it will go anywhere. When I think back to the day that I first knew I loved writing, and I mean really knew, I see myself sitting in an English lesson at secondary school. The school was called Wrotham and is in the county of Kent, England. As far as I know, it's still there. English was far and away my favourite subject. The best bit was when the teacher gave the class a selection of words and asked us to make up a story that either contained those words or was about those words, you know. At other times we would be given the first sentence and then write what happens next. Good times. Many times my work would reflect what I had recently read and it would be okay. Nothing special, just okay. On one occasion though I wrote about a merman called Finchy and can remember going into so much depth and detail about him and the underwater kingdom he lived in. I really enjoyed writing that and it must have shown because my teacher commented on it. She was really impressed and loved the story. That was it for me, my moment. Now when I write I think back to those great times and to that story. Hopefully, I’ll write something that you, the reader, will be moved to comment on. For me, there is no greater elixir

3 thoughts on “Are you watching my poo?”

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