Once upon a time
in a toilet there lived a very
resiliant turd. Despite several days elapsing since
the turd's birth, repeated efforts at flushing it into
obscurity had failed.
The turd had been laid by Mr Pointytit, a bank manager
from Barnsley. He and his wife and their two daughters
had had to put up with seeing the bothersome thing
every time they entered their bathroom, and it was
getting beyond a joke. And as if having an unflushable
turd in your toilet wasn't trial enough, some of the
girls' friends had got wind of the situation and were
picking on them at school. Things had to change.
Armed with a stack of newspapers, a bucket of bleach,
a broom, an industrial drain pump and a small sewage
works, Mrs Pointytit intrepidly entered the
Tentatively she approached the toilet. There it was.
The turd was making a mockery of her, and her family.
There was only one thing for it.
Mrs Pointytit rolled up her sleeves and delved deep
into the toilet with her bare hand. With her other
hand she made paper aeroplanes for the children out of
the newspapers she'd bought. As she grasped the
dreadful excrement she reached for the bucket of
bleach and had a huge swig... ah, that was better.
The slippery monstrosity was a demon to capture. It
slipped and slid through poor Mrs Pointytit's fingers
like a jellied eel evading the lips of a crab-infested
Yorkshire farmer. As she patiently tried to grab it,
she absent-mindedly swept the cobwebs off the ceiling
with the broom she'd brought.
Finally, she had it in her grasp. Quick as a flash,
she yanked it from the lav and brought it down onto
the floor tiles with a splat.
The turd looked at her.
She looked at the turd.
Suddenly, and quite without warning, the turd flew
into the air and flung itself full pelt towards Mrs
Pointytit's face. Screaming desperately, Mrs Pointytit
reached for the industrial drain pump... The turd was
spreading across her face... she could barely
breathe... as she grappled with the deadly faeces with
her left hand, she unblocked the basin plughole with
her right. Mrs Pointytit had never been one to time
Exhausted, Mrs Pointytit collapsed onto the bathroom
floor in defeat. The turd was pouring itself into her
mouth, down her throat... she gave a last desperate
gasp and carked it.
The turd worked its way through Mrs Pointytit's body
and came out of her arse. It and the sewage works
looked at each other. Between them, something magical
occured. Birds began to sing in the trees, the earth
felt like it was moving beneath them.
It was love.
They married several weeks later. It was a lovely day.