I’ve had a rash of new subscribers the last few weeks, so they might as well know my level from the start, before they get sucked in to my dark world of bad puns and toilet humour. Welcome, newbies! Thank you for subscribing. Just so you know, you may regret it. Ask my regulars. You can’t say you weren’t warned.
FYI: I write an irregular series of posts about me, based on the alphabet. No reason, really; just copying more original bloggers.
Where was I?
E is for ‘poo’, or ‘excrement’. Excrement is the same thing as poo, but sounds worse. Let’s not go there. Babies and children poo; adults excrete. Okay, I went there; but I need to thrash this out.
I write about poo a lot; I don’t know why. Bowels don’t move me. Perhaps it’s because I spend my life picking up after my dogs (I am a responsible owner).
Before we knew Spud had an eye problem, he used to fall down a lot. Into big piles of steaming (summer)/frozen (winter, spring, autumn) doodoo. I lost count of the pairs of pants and/or shoes I threw into the bin on the way to school (just to clarify: he was a toddler at the time, escorting his big brother).
I HATE dog poo. I LOATHE lazy owners who leave their dog’s dirt lying around for children to fall into and go blind. If caught, they should be forced to collect all the poo on the park with their bare hands.
I have a whole collection of poems about poo.
Really. It has my favourite title of all my collections: Number Two Cycle. Here’s one:
Dog Day Afternoon
Spring day; a walk in
the park: the triumph of hope
Time and Motion
I’m always here
On the loo.
It’s déjà poo.
My favourite post about poo was a long ramble with the dogs, in which I described their toilet habits (regular and often) and colour (five in one, at one point), and how I had to carry it all around with me until we found a bin. It was a lovely sunny day and it allowed me to close with the line, I never felt more like swinging the poos…
Toilet humour! I love it!
Unsubscribers to the right, please.