Herself came in and switched on the radio.
She had been listening in the other room, and as soon as the subject came up, she thought of me. She came rushing in with cries of “you must listen to this”. What does it say about our relationship? Your guess is as good as mine.
It was all about bowels!
It was interesting all right.
Apparently some people have “discontented bowels”. Franky if I were sat on all day and stuffed full of sh*t then I would be discontented. So how do you make your bowel contented? Apparently one way is to eat “slippery elm”. So the poor trees that survived Dutch Elm Disease are now to be chewed to death by neurotics? I’m just going to play classical music to mine. That should calm it down a bit.
And you have to give you bowel exercise.
This I refuse to do. I think the sight of me walking down the road with thirty odd feet of bowel trailing along behind me would be too much for the locals.
They talked about “irritable bowel syndrome”. Now this one, I can relate to. Mine often shouts a lot, particularly after a vindaloo or a few Guinness. I just tell it to shut up. Herself does too! It usually works.
The one thing that put my nerves on edge was when they started talking about “flora” in our bowels. Now I didn’t know I had a garden up there. Are there weeds I should be tending to? Is there a lawn I have to mow? Do I have to employ a gardener? [“Just crawl up my backside and do whatever has to be done”] Am I going to start sprouting sunflowers out my arse? Does Alan Titchmarsh know about this?
All in all, it was an unnerving programme.
They suggested we go for a rectal examination.
I will in my hole.