Every once in a while each of us experiences a perfect crap. It’s rare, but a thing of beauty in all respects. You sit down expecting the worst, but what you get is the smooth-sliding, fartless masterpiece that breaks the water with the splashless grace of an expert diver.
But that’s not the end of it. You use some toilet paper only to find that it was totally unnecessary. It makes you feel that all is right with the world and you are in perfect harmony with it.
On the other hand (so to speak) there is:
The Beer Crap
Talk about nasty craps. Depending on the crapper’s tolerance, the beer crap is the result of too many beers. It could have been two or 22, it doesn’t matter.
What you get is a sinister, lengthy, noisy crap accompanied by a malevolent fog that could close a bathroom for days.
The Chilli Crap
Hot when it goes in and rocket fuel when it leaves. The chilli crap stays with you all day, making your tush feel like a heat shield.
The Cable Crap
Long, curly and perfectly formed like two feet of telephone coaxial cable. It loops lazily around the bowl, like a friendly serpent. You wonder admiringly, ‘Did I do that? Where did it come from?’ You leave the toilet pleased with yourself.
The Latrine Crap
In case you didn’t know, a latrine is a hole in the ground with a tent around it – where soldiers, boy scouts and flies go to crap. Tip: don’t ever look down the hole.
The Mona Lisa Crap
This is the masterpiece of craps. It’s as perfectly formed as it can be. Delicate and slender with intricacies that would make Da Vinci weep. And just think, you made it yourself. You may even want to break out the Polaroid camera, but maybe that’s going too far.
The Empty Roll Crap
You’re done… you reach for the toilet paper only to discover that empty cardboard cylinder. A mild panic begins coldly in your throat. You could use the curtains… no, someone would say, ‘Where are the curtains?’ Then what would you say. The rug? Too cumbersome. Then you must come to the same conclusion that every ’empty roll crapper’ must face… pull up your daks, tighten your arse and wriggle yourself to the nearest full roll.
A mate about to run the London Marathon lined up outside the dozens of portaloos on Blackheath to unload a nervous one and discovered when the business was done and he was ready to run a world record race, there was no paper. Panic. The only thing available was a pound note – the last he possessed because they were being replaced by the coin – and he used that, being careful not to use the side with the Queen’s head, of course!
The Splash Back Crap
You send the crap on its way; it drops like a depth charge into the bowl creating a column of cold bowl water that washes your bottom with a startlingly unpleasant shock. Now you’re wet and embarrassed. Tip: blot instead of wipe.
The Aborted Crap
You are in mid-crap when the phone rings. What do you do? ABORT! Pinch it off; go for the phone and save the rest for later. It isn’t pretty, but you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.
The Caesarean Crap
Pain, that’s what this crap and childbirth have in common. It’s simply a case of too much crap trying to go through too small a hole and there’s no obstetrician to help.
The Alfresco Crap
Everyone has had to go outdoors from time to time. This can be a rather pleasant experience really. The open air, the nature, and a good bush all contribute to the peaceful ambience that our primitive forefathers must have enjoyed. What can screw up this harmonious interlude is a troop of Brownies or a patch of poison ivy.
The Tijuana Trot Crap (also known as Delhi Belly, Rabat Runs, Seskatchewan Squits, Balsall Heath Balti Bypass)
The phrase ‘shit happens’ really applies here in a big way. When the ice in your tainted margarita makes contact with your lower intestinal tract, the fun begins. For the next 72 hours you’d be better off if you carried your own portable toilet with you because you will spend most of that time on the pot and the rest of the time in a fetal position.
The Machine Gun Crap
You’re just sitting there in a state of sublime peace when all of a sudden you emit a group of noisy gassy bursts that break the silence like machinegun fire. The guy in the next stall hits the floor like a combat veteran – cradling his umbrella like an AK47.
The Sound Effect Crap
You feel a noisy one coming on. Relatives, friends or workmates are within earshot, so you must employ some clever techniques to cover the disgusting sounds you are about to emit. Timing is obviously very important here. At the precise moment of release, try the following sound effects:
1. Flush the toilet.
2. Sing the first two stanzas of your national anthem.
3. Drop a handful of change on the floor.
The Security Crap
You have enough on your mind when you’re in the toilet without worrying about a lockless door and someone bursting in to find you in mid-crap mode. So how can you prevent this embarrassing spectacle from taking place? One way is to strategically place your foot against the door. If you can’t reach to do this… hum loudly.
The Cling-On Crap
For the most part you’ve completed your crap, but there’s one little morsel that refuses to drop off. You’re getting impatient. Someone else wants to use the toilet. So you grip the seat with both hands and wriggle, twist and pump but that last little stubborn piece just hangs there, suspended, clinging like a canned peach between you and the water. Maybe the person pounding impatiently on the door has scissors.
The Houdini Crap
You go, then you stand up to flush and the damn thing has disappeared. Where’d it go? Did it creep down the pipe? Did you dream the whole thing? Is it lurking out of sight? Should you wipe… maybe you should just to make sure you went. Should you flush? You’d better, because if you don’t, you know it will reappear and smile at the next person who comes in.
The Hangover Crap
You feel so bad that you don’t know which end of you to put down first. You have roaring cramps, so you sit down. Then a wave of nausea rolls over you like a cold fog, so you stand up and cramps squeeze your intestines like a vice so you sit down again… up down, up down. Don’t you wish Mum was close by.
The Porta-Pottie Dump
Construction workers and outdoor concertgoers will tell you about going in a portable toilet. My best description would be, ‘It’s like taking a shit in an upright coffin.’ It’s claustrophobic and it smells bad. Best advice: go in a paper cup.
The Proctologist Crap
In the beginning, the Lord created the earth, the sky and the firmament, but I hope he didn’t create this dump because there is nothing biblical about it. You run out of gas. That’s right, you run out of propulsion. The crap is right there at the end of your barrel and refuses to go any further. You grunt, you squeeze, you wriggle but it just stays there like a lump of lead. You’ve only got two choices here. One is to squeeze the damn thing back up your intestine and wait until next time. The other is to pretend you’re a proctologist and go after it yourself. Not a pretty picture is it?
The Whole Roll Crap
No matter how much you wipe, it doesn’t seem to be enough. You blow the whole roll and you have to flush 25 times too. The whole episode is consumer waste.
The Graffiti Crap
You flush the crap and the swirling motion of the receding bowl water forces the crap to the porcelain sides, scraping a creative squiggle on its way down. You flush again but the curly-Q hangs there… love it or leave it, it’s your choice.
The Encore Crap
‘Ahhh!’ You’re done, so you wipe, put yourself together, wash your hands and are about to vacate the toilet when you feel another crap on its way. You have to return for a curtain call.
The Born Again Crap
This is a dump that’s going badly. You say, ‘Lord, if I live through this, I’ll take up religion.’ You always get through it, but seldom keep the promises you made in desperation, because a born-again crap is like childbirth – you forget the pain quickly.