Plop Trumps!

Plop Trumps!

After years of reviewing toilets, I am sometimes approached by random people in the street and asked – and I’m paraphrasing here – “Your Man on the Can, you sexy beast whose babies I only wish to avoid having through the responsible use of contraception and oral sex – you’ve been reviewing toilets for some years now – don’t you have an opinion on anything else?”. At this point, if memory serves, they lift up their t-shirts to reveal ample bosoms, and press themselves against me and look up at me with pleading eyes, as moist as the cork floorboards surrounding a leaky toilet caused by some fat fuck leaning too far to his right in an effort to wrest apart the entanglements of arse hair and dangleberries which bind his buttocks together. Read more

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Eating Poo

Eating Poo

The Delectable(ish) Dare
It was New Year’s Day, 2013. I had spent the previous evening celebrating with my terrific friends in the back arse of nowhere, i.e. Co. Laois. We were, and still are, a very close group of friends who bonded over silliness and dirt. Ah yes, we girls loved getting dirty. But not like that! I mean plastered-in-so-much-mud-that-you’re-still-finding-it-dried-up-behind-your-ears-days-later type dirty. We actually find all the mud pretty cleansing… oddly enough.

It was that thought that drove us down the fields on that particular day (my friend, Ciara, is a farmer) to find a turlough. A turlough is a seasonal lake, and the upside of a wet winter! The one in Ciara’s field was a particular large one, and pretty deep too. Who knew what sort of filth lay beneath its brownish surface? Well, we did of course have a faint idea. Cow shit. And lots of it! And obviously this just made the whol

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Your Man on the Can’t

Your Man on the Can’t

Alternative Title: To pee, or not to pee…

Do you ever find yourself standing at a urinal – this is probably not so much of an issue for the few ladies amongst our readers – next to some guy, and completely unable to go? This is The Number Four Reason guys give for disliking urinals. That puts it just above “Sure I can barely keep my massive cock from dangling in the water if I use the toilet, never mind keeping it from cracking the ceramic if I use the urinal” and below “The poo won’t fit down the drain”.
For most, retreating to a cubicle or waiting until the other guy has buggered off is sufficient. Read more

A Very Important Poo

A Very Important Poo

In saying that this poo was very important, I am not suggesting that I had reached critical capacity and failure to defecate would have resulted in a minor but disgusting explosion, nor that it was a somehow lifechanging poo experience where I met the love of my life in a serendipitously unlocked cubicle. This poo was not even used to save the lives of European diplomats and small African children.

“Why, then”, you might ask, “was this poo important?”. I’ve no idea, but someone seemed to deem it so.

DSC_0020Even though I did not really need to ‘go’, I felt it was my duty. [Note to self: make doodie pun at some point. Classic.]
But first, let me back-track a little and do some explicating.