At the risk of being labelled a public school product, which of course I am, I have to confess I do enjoy the odd poo story.
This is not exactly about poo, but I hope you enjoy it.
Last weekend, I went to visit Paddy's Mum and we spent an enjoyable weekend chillin' and chatting as women do. Saturday evening we went to the West Yorkshire Playhouse in Leeds to watch a comic rendition/stage adaptation of Noel Coward's film Brief Encounter.
Great film by the way, I advise you to watch it and try to understand what Celia Johnston has actually said in that fast and clipped English voice of hers.
So it's the interval, and we're being jostled by several coach-loads of upper-class Saga tourists. A young man pushes past us: "Father! Father!". It was like being stuck at Twickenham.
We went to the ladies. Clare dived in first, I found an empty cubicle at the end of the room. Plenty of posh twittering outside the doors by the sinks. I'd already flushed and was ready to leave.... when the Evil Thought arose.
Something I used to do to Clare many many years ago but have not done for several years...
I stayed in the cubicle and started to groan.
the room went a little quieter, enough for me to hear clare start to laugh. She was evidently by the sinks.
A little louder: "GGGGRRRRAH! AAAAAARGGGGGGHHHH AAARRRRGGH"
By now, clare was laughing aloud and was at the hand-dryer, which was just outside my cubicle.
I prepared myself for the grand finale.
"GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH AAAAAARRRGH AAAAAARGH NOOOOOOO FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATHER! ARGH! OH. AH. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh."
I flushed quickly and came out, giving a really hard stare at the cubicle next to me, and looking shocked. The genteel ladies by the sink raised their eyebrows. Clare and I were laughing. I nodded my head in the general direction of the next cubicle, shook it in mock horror and left, just in time to see this behatted, unwitting old dame exit aforementioned cubicle to be met by a host of stony glares.
I've never laughed so much in public in my life.