Thursday, 19 May 2016

Rushing for the Toilet



Rushing for The Toilet ©
By Michael Casey

We all do it, except the Queen, she never uses the toilet at all, it would be too undignified. In actual fact she has a commode in her Rolls Royce, I know her Royal Chamber Person, I met him down Costco where he buys the toilet paper for her, it’s the one embossed with a Crown on it.

Toilets are part and parcel of life, from a very early age, that is once you are potty trained, and potty training is a whole new experience for any parent. We start in nappies as we call them here in England and as we grow older we have trainer pants and then we wear underpants as we call them in England, ask John Major. Then as we get older we get incontinence pants and finally adult nappies. It’s the circle of life as the Lion King will tell you, though nobody would roar at him if he sprinkles when he tinkles as we say here in England.

In China and here in our Shanghai/Birmingham house we had split pants, which are pants with a split in, or trapdoor as cowboys use to wear in Westerns. They allow quick emergency access/escape for bodily fluids. Though we gave them up very quickly here in Birmingham

We were lucky our girls only took 2 years each to be potty trained, it really does save you a lot of money once the kids are potty trained. You have to have a routine, it’s like cricket with the wicket keeper behind the stumps. You have to remove the nappy fast and throw it into a bag, then wipe and place the new nappy on the clean posterior. The soiled nappy is removed from the home post haste. You should do it all in under a minute, quality parent teamwork.

So the child grows, and you have to hold them over a plastic pot which must be emptied and cleaned fast, you don’t want pooh smell everywhere. When you first met the love of your life, you may of dreamed of being naked with her/him you never dreamed that 9 months after you did what you did that the consequence would be the smell of baby pooh  everywhere for at least 2 years. So think before you do, do  do do and do do, or there will be doo doo everywhere, for 2 years at any rate.

As you grow going to the toilet on your own is an achievement, you feel so proud. When you grow up, your mum and later your wife will tell you off for watering the toilet seat and the bathroom floor, obviously it was not you it must be Totoro the cat.

And so it goes on, till you get older and you need somebody to help you with toilet duties, it always seems to be an older fat woman who looks after you in the care home. These ladies are angels, as are all carers and hospital intensive care staff. I know I was looked after by a Pilipino lady in the QE after my quadruple bypass, they had said it would be a triple but it ended up as 4 grafts.
As you grow old you divide time by units of toilet, when did you last go and when will you need to go again. When you go out you divide distance by where is the nearest toilet, and can you hold it long enough till you get back home. You scan the landscape like a soldier, not looking for the enemy but for where is cover for you having a sneaky pee in the street. You have to be careful or you can be arrested and charged with exposing yourself, when really it is relieving yourself. A friend once got arrested for street peeing after a Friday nights drinking, he was charged with exposure, double exposure, but you can work that one out for yourself.

You have to be very inventive if you get called short, and nowadays with all the public red phone boxes nearly all gone you cannot even pee in them, whatever  has happened to BT, they should have a dial a pee service. So on it goes. If you have cKd or  other such things then you are a victim to your bladder, I know I am that man. I wish I had no such knowledge of such things but I have. I have knowledge of lots of things which I hope nobody will ever have to suffer, but I am sure of one great thing, I know how to spend a penny.   


No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.

brown nosing never required

Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England read in 167 countries so far https://www.amazon.co.uk/Micha...