TOILET HUMOUR

Several years ago I was in the restroom of my then employer, a legal publishing firm, throwing cold water on my face in a desperate attempt to retain consciousness – such is the nature of the publishing world. Halfway through these actions, I heard sounds for which there is no apt description in the English language. Suffice it to say that they constituted the lonely utterances of a man seeking to relieve himself of his innermost demons. Interspersed with his agonized groans were the names of several religious figures of the Christian faith – saints, prophets, Mother Mary, Jesus and God Almighty Himself.

Although I could not even see this tormented individual, I regarded him with mixed feelings. Here was a human soul in obvious pain, seeking to cleanse his body of elements that would elicit sheer terror from the bravest of man and beast alike. Yet, in spite of his admirable attempts to once again attain a state of purity, I hated him for the indescribable revulsion his utterances instilled in me:

Uuunnhhh … Oh Sweet Mother of God …. Release me of these demons …. Plop … Oh thank you Holy Father, mighty are thee …. Ggnnhhhhrrrr …. Dear Saint Patrick, Holy Patron of …. Pffftttt … How you torment me Satan, giving me nothing in return for my labours …. Plop …. Bless you Jesus, Son of God …

Upon hearing the above words, I instantly forgave the Japanese for all their cultural peculiarities. I am, of course, speaking of pills that remove odour associated with bodily functions, toilets which play loud music as soon as they detect a presence on the seat, sound-proofed toilet stalls etc. Had it not been for my olfactory and aural senses, this revelation would have never come to light. The sounds I heard that day were other-worldly. They did not belong in this realm, which advocates order and civility as the norm. What I heard were the sounds of chaos – a living, breathing, intelligent being with no control over the most primal of biological processes.

In the event that Hell has an orchestra, an entire symphony of demonic music could have been composed solely from the sounds emitted by that one man. I have never heard anything quite like it in my entire life, and hope and pray that I never will. Prayer and profanity, supplication and defecation, faith and faeces … all united in the one act.

I have never been quite the same again since that day. My entire diet has taken a turn. Steaks are a thing of the past – fruit and fibre is my new mantra. Previously, I used to laugh at those old fools parading around on television, mouthing the magnificence of Metamucil. Not anymore, not anymore …