Someone on Twitter recently remarked that I was obsessed with shit. I pooh-poohed the comment thinking nothing could be further from the truth. But maybe they're right.
I'm lucky enough to pick up shit every day. It's one of the glories of owning a dog. Firm stools, liquid splats, chunky with no colour known to Man. Yes, I've picked up every kind of shit there is thanks to my dog and, sometimes, some other dogs. I don't mind my dog's shit at all. I don't love it but I'm very happy to tolerate it, after all, it came from the strained anus of my little princess. But there is very little more icky than bending over to pick up your dogs poo to find it cold and then realising you've picked up another dog's poo. Other dog's poo is disgusting. Other dog's poo is shit.
I should point out that I use a bag to pick it up, just in case you really did think I was that relaxed about it.
So my dog's poo I'm fine with, other dog's poo I can pretty much handle. I tell you what poo I can't stand. My poo.
I may have mentioned that I spent a few days in Doha at the glamourous Four Seasons hotel. "Gazing over the Arabian Gulf, with its own private beach and a marina curved at its feet, Four Seasons is a traveller’s haven fashioned to the finest international standards", it says. Everywhere you go in the hotel you see money. Exclusive spa, fine dining, windows. This hotel has the lot and you can't help but feel more refined as a human being just by being there.
Which is exactly why I couldn't ring reception to tell them I'd blocked up the toilet with all my shit.
The Sunday night of our stay was rehearsal night. We were driven from the hotel to the incredible Qatar Foundation where the Doha Debates are filmed. I got into the cab and told the others that I had just done the most disgusting thing that anyone has ever done at the Four Seasons in Doha. Sadly, I was still too traumatised to actually tell them what it was.
You see, I have this thing where I can't bare anyone ever seeing my shit. I'm not saying that my shit is weird or different to other people's shit. It isn't. My shit is average, I assume. But I just don't want anyone to ever witness what comes out of my botty. Is that so awful? I knew that my first long term relationship was doomed the day that I lay in the bath and my girlfriend came into the bathroom and had a shit. IT'S SHIT, FOR GOD'S SAKE! KEEP IT PRIVATE.
So there was no way that I could just call reception and speak to someone who deals with oil barons and diamond encrusted wives of tycoons to tell them that all my shit won't flush. I had to come up with a plan. Luckily, I'm razor sharp. I flushed the toilet again but this time I watched it while shouting "Come on. Come on. Come on". Unbelievably, it didn't work.
This situation wouldn't have been a problem if only the Four Seasons provided a toilet brush but I can only assume that the wealthy never shit so this has yet to set the hotel a challenge. I flushed several more times but this toilet was just not accepting my waste. Every time I flushed, the water rose to the very top of the toilet bowl just to terrify me and show me my swirling, unwanted faeces. 20 times I must have flushed and shouted at that toilet but it refused to co-operate. My "no-one must ever see my shit rule" was screaming in my head and I realised I had little choice but to deal with it hands on.
Don't get all queasy. Trust me, I dealt with the situation in a totally dignified manner suited to my surroundings. Yes, that's right, everyone. I found myself on my knees at the Four Seasons, Doha, with a shower cap wrapped round my hand down a toilet squashing my own shit.
It would take a long while to get over this.
I flushed the toilet and my excrement laughed at me all the way down the u-bend. I must have lay beside the toilet for 5 long minutes with the shower cap on my hand and hearing "Deep Blue Day" by Brian Eno playing in my head. Surrounded by glamour, once again, I find myself on the floor with a shit stained shower cap on my hand.
Thank you for listening.