Sometimes a good headline is important. This is one of those times, because this post is exactly about the title. I know you thought this post was going to be about him again, but it's not. Yes, this really is about arse wiping, or more specifically how you wipe your bum, or even how I wipe mine.
This sort of subject is probably not going to get much in the way of comments, nor is it likely to be used in a Sunday newspaper as light reading matter, to be perused over crab curry at Sunday lunch, but it's still important and relevant. I have a feeling that there's a few Sunday newspapers that may be used for arse wiping this weekend, but that's another matter.
Poo is a subject we all find fascinating, of that there is little doubt, we just don't often talk about it except with close friends. Well we're all pretty close around here so that's ok then, let's talk.
My best friend P, popped in the other day. When he left he mentioned that he had left some "wipes" up in the toilet, or by the toilet. He then went off on a diatribe on the benefits of bum wiping with a wet wipe after a poo. Frankly I thought this was a bit gay, possibly effective but still a bit gay and a bit metrosexual. But P is a convert to the whole process, he raved about how fresh and clean one feels after the experience and how generally marvellous it is.
I remained as cynical as Sach would be about this whole thing and the next day I went to work, as is common in my life. I trawled through my emails in the morning, filtering out the usual batch of stuff trying to sell me viagra and overseas property and the ones giving me tips on dodgy looking shares. Among the emails left was one from academic bro. He asked me the usual brotherly stuff that little brothers always do and then asked if I had got the "arse wiping pads" he had mentioned a few weeks ago.
This freaked me out, academic bro and P aren't in contact and there was no conspiracy going on, just pure coincidence. Alanis would have considered it ironic, but may well have struggled to fit the whole "two people talking about arse wiping with baby wipes in twelve hours" line into the song. But I know it wasn't ironic, just weird.
All of a sudden, after forty years of conventional bum wiping, I was faced with the possibility of a new way, a new path of cleanliness and freshness that actually excited me a bit. P and academic bro, both raving about this discovery was too much for me. I had to "cough, cough" experiment.
So evening came and I ventured home. Like many men I'm one who is keen on dropping a log in my home ground. A bit like Manchester City last season I always feel that I won't score when playing away, whereas at home I can hit the back of the net quite easily. I have heard stories of chaps who travel home at lunchtime everyday just so that they can poo. I'm not that bad but I can understand these fellows.
I sat on the throne and did my stuff. Then, when the paperwork needed to be done, I gazed at the pack of wet wipes that P had left there. In my head I could hear his voice as he uttered words of praise about the wet wipe system, I remembered what academic bro had said about it. The fact is that I hadn't done a ghost.
You know what ghost is don't you? I'll just explain the terminology; a ghost is one of those poos that rushes out of your bum in one clean piece. There's no breaking involved, no mess and no discomfort. It's the perfect poo, made just a bit more perfect because, when you go to wipe your bum, there's no trace of the poo at all. Nothing at all on the toilet paper. Usually you know that there'll be no trace but you do one wipe just to make sure.
There have been studies done by poologists and I understand that statistics show men do a ghost every 63.7 days, roughly. Women, as we all know, just don't poo.
But this time I knew a ghost hadn't been present. I knew that this was going to be a bit of a clingon, a term that no one needs an explanation about. P had given me some good instructions on the use of the wipes. He told me that it was important to use normal paper and the wet wipes, not to just use the wet ones on their own. This would leave you clean but wet. Obvious to many, not to me. He also told me that it wasn't good to start the first stroke with a wet wipe as this can cause smearing, particularly in the case of a slightly aggressive clingon.
I got to work. First there was some dry work, then a couple of wet wipes hit the scene. What can I say? Fanfuckingtastic is the only accurate word. I finished off with another dry wipe, just to remove the excess moisture, and carried on with my evening, of course not forgetting to wash my hands. The whole wet wipe experience was a total revelation. A sparkling feeling of cleanliness enveloped my entire pantsical region. If there was a film crew around filming an advert I know that there would have been a ring of confidence, probably a minty one, around my ring.
And I'm left with a feeling of frustration, one of puzzlement. Currently there is an almost full pack of these wipes in my toilet, I'm free to use them whenever I want, I'm sure that no one will ever find out, unless I told a load of people by way of a blog or something. But, when the pack runs out the million dollar question, the burning issue so to speak, is whether I go out and buy some more or if I go back to my previous work method.
I feel as though I've discovered a brilliant new way of living, a marvellous way to do my paperwork and a message I want to pass on. I'm just not fully sure yet. Will I continue on this journey or will I go back to the old dry wiping? Time will tell, maybe I will too.
Next week we'll talk more about ghosts, clingons and Sri Lankan arse wiping methods versus English procedures. There's a whole world out there!