Last night, I went to the National Film Theatre to hear producer/director Roger Corman talk about his movie career. On the train on the way there, I read in the London Evening Standard a half-page story which started:
“A drama student has told how his life was ruined by being unable to leave the lavatory for up to seven hours a day due to a fear of soiling himself.”
23-year-old James said of the lavatory: “Since I was five, I have had a really difficult relationship with it, which sounds ridiculous. But I hate it. It’s like a monkey on my back.”
I arrived early for the NFT event and sat outside on the South Bank of the River Thames for a while. Such is the immorality caused by having a daily blog that I have started to eavesdrop on random conversations.
Two men were chatting next to me, both middle-aged.
“It hasn’t come out yet,” one was saying.
“How do you look for it?” the other asked.
“With my fingers,” said the first man.
“Ughh,” said the second man.
“Yes, ughh,” said the first man.
I knew the first man’s pain.
The crown on one of his teeth had come off and he had swallowed it.
This has happened to me twice.
The first time, I thought: I am not going to plough through my shit for the next couple of days to find a small crown and then get it put back in my mouth by the dentist.
So I got a new crown made. It was expensive.
It was VERY expensive.
A few years later, the same thing happened.
I am a Scot brought up among Jews.
I thought: It is very expensive. I AM going to plough through my shit for the next couple of days.
And I did. But it was more complicated than it had at first seemed.
For one thing, you have to intercept the turds as they emerge – and preferably on a non-porous, fairly rigid material. You also have to ensure only one turd emerges and there is then a gap before the next one emerges so that, in that gap, you can lay the first turd collected on the non-porous material on a flat surface.
Dental crowns are surprisingly small in relation to the size of an average turd so could easily be inside one without being visible. I found the best way to sift the turd or – let’s be frank here – turds – was to use a fork, then to mash the excreted material until I was certain there was no small white object covered in brown material lurking amidst the other squidgy brown material.
Thus the requirement for a non-porous, fairly rigid material on which to lay the turds as they emerged.
The crown took four days to emerge.
It was not a pleasant time.
It cost me a fork. I threw it away.
I could have disinfected it, but I could not face the potential future flashbacks when eating.