Thursday, October 2, 2008


It's been very windy of late. Stupid low pressure. Bloody irritating as I can't put one foot outside the door anymore without looking like something that's been dragged through a hedge backwards when I go back in.

It was wind of a different kind that was on my mind today, however.

I spent last night in the company of some friends who had produced the most wonderful curries for dinner. (Yes, this IS going where you think). Saag paneer, saag aloo and some chicken korma all washed down with cool bottles of Lidl's finest Perlenbacher beer. It was sumptuous.

I thought I was in the clear this morning having done the necessary "evacuations" well in advance of leaving the house for work. (I am one of these weirdos who is too embarrassed to do poos at work.)

During the morning I was doing fine. Nothing was amiss.

Midday, and some gurgling in my stomach was a warning sign. Bloody wind. Farting in an open-plan office is a serious no-no, so I held it in, until I could get to the safe blast zone of the toilets. I had to mince to the toilets. I shudder to think what anyone walking behind me made of this. And it was for their benefit. And, when I got there, I had to carefully synchronise the offending emission with a flush of the toilet - in case of noise - as, typically, there were six other women in the vicinity.

Having returned to the section and turning my attention back to more mundane things, I again felt some burbling in my stomach. And then, horror of horrors! My large intestine decided it wanted to join the fun and emitted a very loud borborygmus (pre-fart) which would reach 9.8 on the Richter Scale equivalent of colonic gas! At this point I grabbed my stomach and went, "urrggh my bloody stomach" for the benefit of anyone in the general vicinity, even though the real provenance of the noises had been further "south".

Two minutes later, the same thing happened. Only louder this time. "Brrrrrrrrble" went the air deep inside me. A couple of clerical officers looked up, thinking that (a) the EO had decided to forego any of the social niceties of shared office space, or (b) the EO was about to spontaneously combust. They secretly hoped (b). Because it was cold and some of them would have liked to warm their hands at the flames. And there would be a day or two off to go to the funeral.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon waddling to and from the bathrooms, and when four o'clock rolled around I was out the door like something propelled by wind.

The local chemist was very pleased when I bought out their entire stock of charcoal tablets.

Being anally retentive is such a pain in the fucking hole.


Rosie said...

i am also one of those weirdos who is too embarrassed to poo at work.

the absolute worst is when you do get the toilets to yourself so decide to go for it, then someone comes in before you've finished, so you hold it, but they're waiting for you to leave, and sitting in the next cubicle, holding it...

Govstooge said...

I have my system fine-tuned so that I go every morning before I leave home. However I envy the shameless. They can get paid as they poo and save on paper at home!