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WARNING This one may be too frank about poo for your liking. You might think you're through the worst after the first bit. But you won't be.
For the second time in just a few weeks I sent my shit through the mail to someone. And the beauty of it was that it was all official so I couldn't get into trouble as it was going to medical science. But the joke's on medical science because I hate all people working trying to eradicate disease and improve diet, so I am only doing this as a dirty protest.
This time I'd been asked to provide some poo because they wanted to check it for signs of bowel cancer. Don't worry, not because there was any reason for concern apart from my age. They were asking people in their late fifites to do it, because obviously, as I've learned, catching cancer early gives you a good chance of surviving it.
They did not provide a poo hammock on this occasion, but I fashioned my own using the plastic cover from some dry cleaning, which I put under the toilet seat, like a student playing a prank with cling film. It worked a treat. I had to swizzle a grooved stick in the poop and then put that in it's container like it was a shitty eye-liner. The instructions expressly asked to only get enough faeces to cover the grooves and not add any extra, but I figured that was just like when people say they don't want birthday presents, so I filled the envelope with a generous dollop for these dirty coprophiles.
Not really. C'mon. What do you think I am? A monster.
Well perhaps I am. I'd had a good night's sleep and ate well today and suddenly had lots of energy. I decided to try a run. The last two I've done have been curtailed after 2 and 1 kms as I've been feeling rather jaded, so I wasn't hoping for much, but I figured that something was better than nothing.
I felt OK though, even after running up a lengthy hill so I decided to take a chance and try my 6km route through the countryside. I was plodding along, but I was doing it and shouted at myself to get up the hilly bits without stopping.
Four kilometres in though I was feeling a little uncomfortable and had to stop to do something I've never done before. My body, perhaps surprised at this sudden burst of activity after so much sloth, was trying to jettison any unnecessary weight. I had to do a Paula Radcliffe and not in any of the good ways.
I was in a deserted field and found a slightly sheltered spot, but what if someone was watching through binoculars and what if they'd seen me post some poo into the postbox at the start of this run. They'd think I was a menace.
But when you're a world class athlete you sometimes have to humiliate yourself like this and when I completed 6km in a world record breaking (for a fat man who hasn't exercised for a bit and had to stop for a shit) 50 minutes my decision was vindicated.
I was anticipating a horror show in my underwear, but somehow the expulsion had been super efficient. So I am going to shit in fields all the time from now on and save on water and toilet paper. Nothing can possibly go wrong.
Amazing news for Aldershot. Lee Mack is going to be a guest on the RHLSTP on 20th October. Worth a trip to Aldershot, which isn't a sentence you'll hear very often.
Tickets here 
