Tag Archives: pooing


Someone, somewhere, is probably sat in a big pile of money ala Scrooge McDuck. They go for money-swims periodically. They take money-baths. They dress in suits made of money and drive cars powered by money. They don’t light cigars with money – they light money with money, then put the money they’re smoking out in ashtrays made of money.

What I’m saying is: there’s someone out there with a lot of money for one very good reason.

That reason is they were the person who decided it would be a good idea to advertise yoghurts to women on the promise that they would help you shit.

Someone please read that last sentence back for me, just so I know I’m not going mad. Because I know it’s a statement based in fact, I just can’t quite wrap my head around it.

Market yoghurt as a delicious, healthy treat? Sure. Market it for kids by putting funny faces on it and saying it comes from lion spunk? Why not. But ‘if you eat this it will make you poor more regularly and without having to force any stink-nuggets out’? Really? And someone said yes to this? And the ads are still running in this vein?

Bifidus Actiregularis. It used to be Digestivum, but it’s changed. I know because I’m eating one right now. Look at that name. The first indicates something scientific sounding in order to convince you it’s real, the second part combines a couple of words you can understand and makes you think of… well, going for a shit on a regular basis without being blocked up something rotten.

Though I suppose this is also a world where they advertise Stella as a classy drink. A world where loan sharks get fat blokes to shout WONGA at you until you borrow from them at 948298498298 million per cent APR. A world where McDonald’s makes genuine claims to being anything other than gutter scrapings clumped together and fried up for our idiotic tastebuds to munch on and decide is delicious.

I’d say fuck the world, but I can’t – need to go do a (regular) poo.

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I’m a person who likes witty, intelligent humour. I like to be made to laugh before having that moment of realisation kick in – the part where you feel you’re in on the joke and a member of an exclusive HUMOUR CLUB. Or the times where you predict the joke before it comes, but the comedian/actor/film/book/whatever doesn’t patronise you into completing the joke, so you know you’re clever enough to, again, be part of the gang.

I like all of that shit, true. And I am quite arrogant about the comedy I like. But at the same time I find the lowest level, stupidest crap incredibly funny. One thing in particular stands out as being consistently one of the things that has made me laugh throughout my entire life. I am talking, of course, about trumping, poo, farting, shitting, gassing, dropping the kids off at the pool, pumping, dumping, pooting and dropping a floater.

I won’t embarrass you all with great details as to why farts are funny or what farts in particular have made me laugh over the years – though an answerphone message does spring to mind as being particularly hilarious. But I will wonder aloud: do the people even more comedy-arrogant than I realise they are being lying dickheads when they claim pump-based humour to be unfunny? Has the Queen ever made a joke about an arse-rippler? And – most importantly of all – did cavemen find poots funny?

Don’t let it be said I don’t hit you with important, necessary subjects here on this blog. You’ll miss me when I’m gone.

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