Wednesday, August 02, 2017
Big Jobs
A few days ago, the manager of the safari camp invited me to inspect one of his turds.
“You’ve got to look at, GB, it’s massive!” he exclaimed. “I’d like to know whether a gorilla could shit out something like that! I purposely didn’t flush so you could authenticate it!”
“My dear manager,” I replied. “You are gravely mistaken in thinking I am qualified to pass judgement on your excrement. I suggest you take a picture of the toilet bowl and send it to experts in the field.”
“And who might they be?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders and told him his guess was as good as mine. Maybe I should have given him the name of an elephant trainer. Or, indeed, an elephant.
Most humans, of course, have much greater inhibitions about discussing their solid waste. I don’t know whether this is a good or bad thing. Perhaps, on balance, it’s for the best. It would be very tedious if everyone left the toilet unflushed after producing a notable stool. But the other side of the coin is humans who hold it in because they’re too embarrassed to evacuate their bowels in an unfamiliar lavatory.
After doing my own research on the subject, I found an article claiming that 50% of women and 29% of men are worried about having to defecate in their place of work. Why more women suffer from this anxiety is an interesting question. Perhaps they think that shitting (and farting) is unladylike. It’s certainly difficult to imagine Audrey Hepburn or Julie Andrews having a dump – and yet we know they must have done it like everyone else. Perhaps they should have spoken more openly about their bowel movements – it might have dissipated the cloud of shame that hangs over the whole subject.
The article makes a number of helpful suggestions for how to lessen the angst of a workplace poop. Number one on the list is listening to music when sitting in the cubical. The idea is that you won’t worry about the noise you’re making if you can’t hear it yourself. This reminds me, somewhat, of an ostrich burying its head in the sand. But that doesn’t mean it’s ineffective in the circumstances. Anything that helps someone shit in peace has my blessing.
Number seven on the list is “Don’t be a dick to other office poo-ers”. I heartily endorse this. Heckling someone who’s having a difficult time in the lavatory is a prime example of boorish manners. No one who indulges in this sort of behaviour deserves any mercy when they’re parping and plopping themselves.
The most interesting point on the list concerns the financial implications – “when you poo at work, you’re getting paid to shit”. Although this is technically true, it also deprives you of a more leisurely poo in your own home. My old circus buddy, Smacker Ramrod, says that emptying your bowels on a day of leisure while reading a magazine is one of the great sensual pleasures of life. Is he wrong?
Labels: embarrassment, Poo-poo, shit, turds
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
A Baleful performance
I‘ve recently discovered that the actor Christian Bale is Welsh. He hides it very well, I must say. Gone are the days when Richard Burton would majestically utter the lines of a Roman nobleman in a rich Port Talbot drawl. Even the great Anthony Hopkins puts on an American accent for most of his screen roles. How much more seductive Hannibal Lecter would have been as a Welshman, beguiling the prissy Agent Starling with his sing-songy vowels and lubricious charm. You wouldn’t have blinked an eye if she’d let him nibble her tender parts.
Mr Bale’s suppression of his Welshness has not brought him peace of mind. In a recent interview with Esquire magazine, he complained that being a film star was a humiliating job that made him feel like a sissy.
“I learned there’s a certain character that can be built from embarrassing yourself endlessly,” he explained.
In a way, that’s quite fitting. A shrewd observer once said that the Welsh were a nation that had nothing to be ashamed of and plenty to be embarrassed about. Yet, anyone who makes millions of dollars from showing off in front of a camera ought to be immune from such concerns. It is true that Bale has a tendency to fly off the handle and make an ass of himself, but people expect that of film stars. The hurdle of absurdity has been set pretty high ever since Mel Gibson starting channelling Mad Max.
Real embarrassment is what humans suffer when they are caught doing something totally at variance with their public image. Here are two recent examples:
• Australian rugby player Joel Monaghan is photographed simulating oral sex with a dog.
• English nurse Jayne Reed confesses to a three-in-a-bed romp with a 46-year-old man and an 18-year-old girl.
The rugby player is wisely seeking political asylum in Europe. An Australian sportsman who lets a dog sniff his groin is shown no mercy when he appears before thousands of beer-guzzling larrikins. They will bark at him until he feels like a bitch in heat. Making a dignified exit is better than being hounded out of your country.
The case of the nurse is more complex. The man and the girl were patients, so what she did was arguably a form of post-operative therapy. Even if her intention was purely recreational, one can see a method in her madness. If you’re into heavy petting, four arms are better than two, and two heads are better than one. Not being sure who was doing what might have added to the thrill.
However, one aspect of the nurse’s conduct will bring her unending lifelong shame. She referred to her bed-mates as “Daddy Bear” and “Baby Bear”, while styling herself as “Mummy Bear”. On hearing this revelation, the panel adjudicating her case groaned loudly and rubbed biscuits into their faces. A woman who seeks to enact the Goldilocks fable in her sexual escapades is sappier than a gum tree – she must be forced to suck lollipops until her tongue turns orange.
Labels: acting, Christian Bale, embarrassment, Welshmen
