There's a lovely gentleman who has joined one of the UK IBS Bulletin Boards I belong to and his humor has been a whopping success in lifting everybodies spirits when we're down in the toilet, so to speak. He's given me permission to share some of that British Humor with you all. Read on...but take time for a pit stop first or you'll never make it!
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Verna - who would pay to read my ramblings? I sit here at the computer and the rubbish comes flooding out. I like having a computer because it rarely argues with me. For the most part, it does what I tell it and allows me to escape from programmes like "Blind Date" and "Stars In Their Eyes".

Don't you think, like me, that doctors seem always very eager to do an internal inspection when you mention bowels? Go to see him with an ingrowing toenail or a bunion and you don't even get to take your socks off. You are packed off with a jar of ointment. With bowels, its drop your pants and bend over. Your hear the surgical equivalent of Marigolds being pulled on and a jar of Vaseline or petroleum jelly being opened and WHAM - there's this weird feeling something going up a place where normally something only comes down! Now it may be that some people of a certain persuasion might feel a little pleasure from the experience and far be for me to deny them. One man's meat etc. However, I always feel particularly vulnerable in that bent-over situation and when it goes in, I always make sure that the doctor has BOTH hands on my shoulders!

I am at that age now, where even Radio 2 is too modern for me. At one time, they used to play Sinatra, Tony Bennett, Barbra Streisand etc but now when they give the name of the singer, I say "who?" As one of the presenters (Terry Wogan) would say - is it me? I find the modern music scene just too stressful to listen to. It always sounds as though the drummer is building a shed. By modern, I mean virtually anything after 1956!

And talking of sheds, this is where mine comes into it's own. I've already told you I have a bucket down there for emergencies. What I have not told you is that I have a very nice HiFi system in there too.So I can have the trots to Sinatra or the runs to Barbra Streisand. And, as the old song goes - "It ain't nobody's business if I do". The men amongst us will appreciate at sometime or another the importance of having a shed. There is nothing that I can do in the house than cannot also be done in the shed. I do my oil paintings there, I play my electronic organ there. I do my joinery there and I could, at a pinch, sleep there. I have suggested to my wife that we sell the house and live in the shed but she's not convinced.

By the way, Mandy. I did not have bread with my cheese and pickle sandwich today! I wrapped it in a tea-cake. I am trying, really.

Talking of teacakes. I went to the supermarket last Tuesday. They have a small restaurant - not haute cuisine or anything remotely like it. I fancied a coffee and a slice of toast. I didn't want to over-tax them. The coffee I had to get for myself from a machine which did not seem to realise when the cup was full. So, I proceeded to the food order counter with my brimming cup and three quarters of an inch of coffee sloshing in the saucer. Behind this counter was a very big gawp of a girl. Now I am just short of six feet in height and she towered over me - a veritable Amazon. Unfortunately, she "had reclaimed her body" by having a rather extensive tongue piercing. When she spoke, it was like watching a cobra. I was mesmerised.
"Yes luvvie. Whatcha want?" she hissed.
" Er. A slice of toast please"
"Sorry luvvie, the toasters broke" she hissed, the gold beads flashing in the infra red lights over the counter.
Now, no one calls me "luvvie" with impunity. I had never seen this creature before in my life and I am not a Thespian.
" I'll just have the coffee then"
"Okey dokey. Hey. Wait a minute. I could make yer a toasted tea-cake if yer want" said the flashing tongue.
"How come you cannot offer me a slice of toast because the toasters broke - I mean broken. Yet you can offer me a toasted tea-cake?" I asked with heavy sarcasm.
"Well, yer see luvvie, we only toast the tea-cakes on one side and we can do that on the griddle" the cobra announced triumphantly.
Now I accept that my brain cells take a bit of warming up these days but I am not totally senile. Now I've got you luvvie, I thought. "Has it never occurred to you that you could take a slice of bread, throw it on the griddle and when that side is done, just turn it over and do the other side?"
" Ah, yer. See watcha yer mean. I didn't fink of that one. Can't do it though. It would take too long" she hissed.
"Well I am retired. I have no appointments that I can't postpone."
"No luvvie. Can't do it. If other people saw yer toast, they'd all want some. Sorry. Cream cake?"
"No. I'll stick with the coffee"
I found a table which was almost clean. Mopped my saucer out with a serviette. Lit my cigarette with trembling hands and discovered the coffee was stone cold. This is what we English call service - you see what we have to put up with Verna? Its enough to give you IBS if you didn't have it before.

Going on holiday shortly to the South Coast. Hotel cooking should be ok. They always tend to make the food taste of nothing so it does not offend the English sensitivity to foreign rubbish such as garlic and herbs. Probably just as well. It may give my bowels a well deserved rest. Personally, I enjoy foreign rubbish such as garlic and herbs. My wife is Lithuanian and cooks like a dream in true continental fashion. Indian food, I never touch after a very bad experience in 1960. Chinese? Their pieces of chicken look like no other chicken I have ever seen - curly. Besides, one good fart and you're hungry again. Italian? I love it but it is like having colonic irrigation afterwards.

The one thing we do really well over here is make excellent toilet paper. Lets face it, it is important to us. The French, the Belgians and the Germans must make theirs from recycled sandpaper.
Anyway, must go now. Love to you all.
Keep your spirits up
XXXXX
Geoff

Hello Mandy,
Glad my writings gave you a chuckle. A good belly laugh is worth a thousand pills. I am just trying to work out how I can make a sandwich without using bread? Eating tuna mayonnaise with my fingers does not appeal. Putting cornflakes on both sides of a slice of ham sounds difficult.

Do you realise Mandy, how different things could have been had the Battle of Waterloo not taken place? You see, Lord Wellington (who wore the boots) took along the Earl of Sandwich to assist in the battle. Now once this Earl had established himself in his cosy tent several miles from the battle site, he seated himself in a cosy armchair with a glass of Madeira wine. He then realised how hungry he was and shouted for his servant.
"What's to eat, Jeeves, old lad?".
"Well sir" says Jeeves " I can only find a shank of ham and some bread, sir."
"Tell you what, Jeeves. Cut two slices of bread and put a slice of ham in between."
"Yes sir. Certainly sir. But what will it be when I have done it, for the menu sir?"
"Oh, I don't know. For Christ's sake use your initiative. Call it a bloody sandwich, Jeeves!"
Now, if the position had been reversed and Lord Wellington had been hungry, we now would all be eating cheese wellingtons and wearing rubber sandwiches!

When and if I dare go out for a pub lunch, I usually choose what I believe may be the most innocuous item on the menu. This, almost invariably, would seem to be a cheese sandwich. I look around at the other diners - mainly old farts like myself - and I am staggered at the size of the portions they are stacking away. Mixed grills with sausages and chops hanging off the plate. I notice too that they have had a starter, usually some evil-looking glutinous soup de jour and they are following the mixed grill with treacle sponge or spotted dick and custard. For God's sake. Where do they put all of this food? If I intended to have the soup, I would have to eat it sitting on the bog! At breakfast in a hotel, I dare not even look at the prunes! The sight of a fig sets my stomach roiling. I am about to sit down to a shoulder of roast lamb (some of it anyway) which my wife is lovingly preparing. There will be roast potatoes, Yorkshire puds and some veg. Ten minutes after this, I shall be galloping up the stairs to the loo. Will I be evacuating the lamb or what I had for lunch - a salmon sandwich? I do not know because, let's face it, one turd looks very much like another. I do recall having mussels mariniere and chips. Ten minutes later, there was a mussel in the toilet bowl. Did I drop it down my shirt? Did it fall out of my fly or did it come out in the wash, so to speak? If the latter, it means my bowels are joined to my throat, doesn't it? I can't really believe that. Mind you, I have been told I talk out of my backside from time to time.

As you rightly said - sod it. I'm going for my lamb. I'll chuck out the Weetabix and get some cornflakes on your advice. You don't recommend Allbran, by any chance?
Speak to you later.
Best wishes Geoff.

Hi Deborah,
Reminds me of the story where two adjacent cubicles in the public loo were occupied. A voice from one says "There's no paper in here. Have you any in there to spare?"
"Sorry, mate" came the reply. "There's only two sheets and I need them".
"Er. Have you got a newspaper perhaps?"
"No, mate. I haven't. Sorry!"
"Well have you any old envelopes or letters. I'm in dire straits here?"
"Sorry, mate. Nothing at all".
"Perhaps an old bus ticket or a till receipt?"
"Look, mate. I've told you - there's nothing here!"
"Well have you got two fivers for a tenner then?"

I always, but always keep some toilet paper in my back pocket - have to keep
changing it because it disintegrates. Found a tenner mixed up with it once.
Geoff
XXX

Evening All,
In the interests of the group, I selflessly did some research on the vital matter of bums and the cleaning thereof at the local Supermarket. (For our American friends, this is a different sort of bum - not one who lives on Skid Row). I spied an offer on 18 rolls of Charmin. This is the one with a picture of a bear on the packet. You all know the saying? Like a bear with a sore arse? This looked good and it was white. I picked up the package to see whether it contained bleach.. Turning the rather large packet round and round, I came to some writing. It said "How to apply.........." I thought this is strange - toilet rolls with instructions for use. It was only when I was halfway through reading it that I realised that it was how to apply for a competition form. I made a mental note that this seemed a good offer. Then I found some Double Velvet Quilted. Now I have used this at a friend's house and let me tell you, it is useless. It is like wiping your arse with a 15 Tog Winter Weight Duvet and just about as efficient. I then passed on to the Supermarket's own brands. Soft and Supersoft. The sheets were little larger than a Christmas postage stamp and thin!!! The sort you can easily poke your fingers through - even worse they were blue. Paul has kindly suggested the one with Aloe Vera and, as it happens, I did buy a pack of these. Thanks Paul. I also got a pack of White Charmin because if it can soothe a bear with a sore arse, then that's for me. Can't really have enough bog rolls, can we? I must go through a forest in Finland every week.
All this research into care of the bowels set mine a-rumbling. I was at the far end of the shop and the toilets were at the bottom, of course. Would I make it? I set off with my backside so tightly clenched that you would not have been able to pass a bus ticket between the cheeks. It made me mince a bit. Now this would not have been amiss in Harrogate where shirtlifters abound but in Boroughbridge, it caused quite a few funny looks. I got to the Gents eventually but both cubicles were engaged. I minced out of there and looked around - the Ladies? Perhaps not. I spied the disabled toilet and, trusting there was no old fart in there with a Zimmer, I threw open the door. I was in luck and in time. Its one thing to drop a jar of pickles or tomato sauce on the floor of the Supermarket, but to drop what I had been holding on to for dear life would have caused a few eyebrows to lift. All's well that ends well, as they say. I shall report back on the white toilet paper and its effects on my three piece suite ( family jewels).
Just a thought. Ladies use bleach to lighten their hair. I was in Textiles for many years and have never heard of bleach being used in colours - salt is usually used to make colours fast. Is everybody sure we have got this the right way round?
Best wishes to all
Geoff

Hi Everyone,
I hope you have all had as good a day as I have. We drove over to Easingwold to the George Hotel and had lunch with a couple we met at the hotel in Southport the other week. Strange how people meet up, isn't it? Normally, in an English hotel, the dining room is as quiet as a tomb and everyone whispers. It was the same at The Prince of Wales in Southport - a sort of hushed reverence. As though a word would ruin the Chef's souffl. This peace and tranquillity was broken by Ina and myself and the couple on the next table - we all roared with laughter at the menu and its misspellings. This was the menu on the first night at dinner:-

HONEY DUE MELON
CHEF'S HOME MAID SOUP
LIVER PATTY WITH MELBER TOAST

CHOICE RAMP STEAK
BREAST OF DUCKING
CHOICE OF COLD MEETS WITH SALAD

BLACK FORREST GATOE WITH WIPED CREAM
CHERIE TRIFLE
SELECTION OF ICES
CHEESEN BISCUITS

The food was wonderful but the spelling appalling. So, this is how we met some very nice people who live in Tadcaster. See you all later
Love
Geoff
xxx

Hello All,

RIPON- I live near Ripon and can report that there are two new public toilets in the town. One near the new library and car park and the other behind the Wakeman's House. The old catacomb-like toilets under the market Square have been filled in and not a minute too soon. It harboured the dregs of the city and if I went down there for a pee, I was always looking over my shoulder which is not a good practice because, if you were not careful, you could finish up with a trouser leg full. As far as No. 2's were concerned. all the cubicle locks were smashed and it was difficult to have a comfortable crap with one foot raised up against the door to repel invaders. As I said, this has now all been buried under the new cobbled market square thanks to a lottery grant of 2 million pounds sterling. The Black Bull Hotel, the Unicorn Hotel and the Bakers Oven cafe offer reasonable facilities too. All of these can be reached from any part of the city in less than a minute.

HARROGATE- Beware. This town is so full of poofters and transvestites that none of the public toilets are to be recommended without an armed escort. Most close at 5pm to prevent them from becoming meeting places for nefarious activities. Now before anyone complains about homophobia, let me say that I never, ever went out on a date where the meeting place would be a public toilet. Why do they ? Gays are very much in your face in this town. So where do you go when the need strikes? Marks & Spencers, Littlewoods, Edinburgh Wool Shop, The Victoria Centre, Betty's Cafe, Lloyds Coffee Shop or behind the nearest tree if in Valley Gardens - but be careful in Valley Gardens. This scenic delight is wick with deviants and druggies. Advice - keep your hand over your halfpenny. If all else fails, all the big hotels ( and there are many) offer excellent facilities without the need to purchase a cup of coffee. Just go in, ask for a brochure and by the way, where are the toilets? It always works.

BRADFORD- If you even think a poo is on the cards, just do not go to Bradford. Many of them are converted to holes in the floor-type toilets to make the Asians feel more at home. The best are hotels like the Norfolk Gardens Stakis and the Midland Hotel near the railway but they are a goodly stretch if in the town centre. Littlewoods, British Home Stores should be avoided because people seem to have difficulty aiming with either end. There used to be Rackhams Department Store which was nice until I had a strange experience there. When I was working, I often used to go there for lunch. They had a nice cafeteria where they did superb haddock and chips with parsley sauce. I went to the loo afterwards one day. There were three cubicles of the type whose walls finished about 9 inches above floor level. I chose an end one because it puts me off, if I am next to an extrovert crapper, let alone two. You know what I mean - loud noises, farts and ploppings with grunts and sounds of toilet paper being ripped and wiped. Anyway, i was sitting quietly enjoying the moment, when I heard the main door open and someone enter the next cubicle. All was very quiet. Next thing I saw was a face looking under the cubicle wall at me sitting with trousers round ankles. I smashed my heel into the face bursting his nose. There was blood all over. I finished up and dashed outside looking for the culprit but he was long gone but there was trail of blood through the cut-glass dept. It would be a peep show he would long remember.

LEEDS- Avoid most public toilets unless in buildings like the Corn Exchange where the 20p charge keeps out the riff-raff. The stores are fine - Debenhams, Marks & Spencer, Littlewoods, BHS, Boots (they have a cafe) Lewis's, Harvey Nichols where they sell crap at exhorbitant prices probably to keep the doorman in uniforms. Most hotels are good too but are not in the shopping area. The St. John's Centre is excellent because the toilets are attended. Some pubs are ok - the Griffin in particular.

HUDDERSFIELD- Avoid public toilets like the plague. No department stores there either. Find a nice cafe and usually the loos are ok.

HALIFAX- If you really have to visit Halifax, stay close to the pedestrianised area and the indoor market where the loos are clean. There is a hotel near the market - forget its name- but nice loos and excellent steak and kidney pie, which guarantees you will need the loo.

MATLOCK- Try not to need a loo, please. If you do, find a cafe or use the hotel at the side of the river but it is a long way out.

BURFORD (Oxfordshire) - Delightful place with a new loo at the bottom of the steep High Street. All stainless steel fittings - cold on the bum but very clean. Some wit had scrawled some graffiti on it on my last visit - it said "this is a right shithole". In this context, the word "right" to a Yorkshireman means "good or fine". As in -that is a right building - meaning it is a fine building. Just thought you ought to know that - adds a bit of colour to the tale.

THIRSK- Two public toilets of reasonable standard in an emergency. One near the car parks at the rear of the market place and the other directly in the market square. The Bkaers Oven comes up trumps again, if you'll pardon the expression. The Three Tuns Hotel is good but oldie worldly. Most of the pubs are good too. The guide with pubs in Thirsk is, if it looks ok on the outside, it will be ok inside too.

SOUTHPORT- avoid public toilets unless in dire need and then get an escort. The hotels and pubs in Lord Street are absolutely fine as are the coffee shops.

OXFORD- Use the coffee shops, cafes or hotels - there are plenty of them.

CLECKHEATON- People just dare not crap in this town so don't waste your time going there.

BOURNEMOUTH- Again avoid the public loos - gay population very high here. Use hotels, Department stores and decent cafes - plenty to choose from.

HECKMONDWIKE- Still use outside cludgies or karzies so a public loo is a bit of a phenomenon which would need directions for use, assuming the population can read.

Hope this will do for now.

TTFN
Geoff