Calm Down Dearest – Toilet Texting


There’s nothing better than having a bit of quiet time whilst nature takes its course as you sit on the pearly throne doing what we all need to do once a day, or maybe every other if you haven’t had your Bran Flakes. Yep, I’m talking about doing a classic number two, dropping the kids off at the pool, touching cloth, and indeed turtle heading. It’s only human so let’s not get all squeamish about it.

So this week, having had a long day at work, I decided to run myself a bath. The water was satisfyingly hot and the bubbles well formed. I undressed and just as I was about to jump into the bath I felt the familiar rumblings of my sigmoid colon (that’s my polite way of saying I needed a shit). So there I sat, waiting. I put my phone on the side for some light toilet texting whilst I did my thing and generally speaking, I didn’t put much thought into the whole process as it’s a pretty routine task which at the age of 24, I’m pretty good at. Mind you I have learnt from experience that it can turn ugly if you don’t listen to your colon. As a baby my mother used to bath me, my brother and my sister together… that is until, I did a bad thing. I was being placed into the bath when my arse hit the water and I did a terrible, runny and downright dirty shit in the bath. The water quickly turned into a stinky swamp like mess with my siblings clambering for the sides in a desperate attempt to survive (imagine scenes from the Titanic, only much more horrific). Still, how many people can officially say that they’ve shat on their brother and sister? I can… and that makes me a winner!

Having ran my bath this week I continued sitting, texting and waiting for the inevitable plop. Beep!… a text message arrived. Being one never to shy away from a bit of toilet texting I went to grab my phone that I’d placed on the side and it was at that point it all went horribly wrong. I limp handed the ruddy thing and knocked it clean into the bath of hot bubbly water just as I was mid release! At that precise moment in time I felt like Dr Who, the time lord himself (only with a little less dignity) as I had to decide my own fate. Either, I risked leaving my phone to submerge in the soapy water meaning its certain death, or I’d have to crimp like I’d never crimped before, risking not only an unhappy dissatisfied colon, but a very high chance of trailing poo down the back of my legs whilst making a flailing deep water rescue for my prized Nokia.

Ask yourself, in that situation, what would you do?!

Part of me is proud to say, that I was happy to risk it all. I crimped it off risking life and dirty limbs. I shot up naked, paying no attention to my behind and dived in the bath after my phone. The phone survived but the poo ravaged me. In an attempt to glean something good from what happened I managed to understand that at that singular moment I proved myself. I proved myself to be committed, a go getter, someone willing to risk it all. All attributes that will outlive the fact my own poo had landed on my ankle.

Ironically, the text that caused the devastation in the first place was not from a friend but from Orange… a text asking me to donate £5 to ensure the kids in Africa get clean water.

Ordinarily I’d be more than willing to contribute. But given that I’m bathing in shitty water myself, I’m not sure it’s appropriate.