WTF? Fitness edition.

Ok, so when I promised a fitness related blog post this morning to members of my #FITFAM I really intended to write a new one & wasn’t planning to re-post this one at all. But then I had a read through it to remind myself what I had written & it made me laugh like a drain. If you’ve never heard a drain laugh, well you’re really missing out and you should visit Norfolk because our drains laugh all the fricking time!! In fact, when I have finished this intro, I am going to write to the Norfolk Tourist Board & suggest they use “Visit Norfolk!! Come hear our drains laugh!” for their next advertising campaign…..

So, yeah, read! Enjoy! Laugh like a drain yourself or just scratch you head & think “WTF??” Whatever……& I will carry on working on the sort of serious (yeah right!!) fitness post I promised…





There is a sign on the reception desk at the gym which reads the following:


This is a conversation – all be it very brief – I had with the girl on reception….

ME: *tut* Oh well, I suppose I will have to use the womens showers tomorrow for a change then....

ME: *tut* Oh well, I suppose I will have to use the women’s showers tomorrow for a change then….(Yes I know it’s a picture of an old lady with her dog at the vets, but it was the best ‘reception area’ photo googlie had…just use your imagination can’t you? Look! She is wearing trainers! Just imagine the dog is actually my training partner, Suzie…face of a bull-dog, but a heart of gold….

Receptionist: *looks at sign* No, it's the men's...not the ladies...

Receptionist: *looks at sign* No, it’s the men’s…not the ladies…

ME: No, I was joking that I normally......

ME: No, I was joking that I normally……

Me: Never mind.....

Me: Never mind…..

Sometimes I wonder why I bother…

And then I see headlines like this and I feel all warm and fuzzy and it all suddenly makes sense again….

I suppose in terms of drunken party pieces, it's novel...I will give her that.  It makes my talent of being able to do the splits whilst burping Daydream Believer by the Monkees (I refuse to burp any other versions) pale in comparison....

I suppose in terms of drunken party pieces, it’s novel…I will give her that. It makes my talent of being able to do the splits whilst burping Daydream Believer by the Monkees (I refuse to burp any other versions) pale in comparison….

And finally…..

So now you know fella's.  If you want to avoid pictures of your brandy snap turning up in the new "Readers Husbands" section of BBC Good Food Magazine, look out for hidden cameras next time you go to the toilet....

So now you know fella’s. If you want to avoid pictures of your brandy snap turning up in the new “Readers Husbands” section of BBC Good Food Magazine, look out for hidden cameras next time you go to the toilet….


Oh dear what can the matter be (Toilet related calamities)

In my absence, there have been many toilet related incidents which I have noted with every intention of sharing with you all. Of course it would be wrong of me to ‘splash’ straight in without reminding you of my earlier toilet antics also I thought this little reminder would be a nice taster of my toilet business for my newer readers. Although not literally because that would just be weird and I’m not into that kind of shit!! But I have just reminded myself of a guy once arrested by one of my colleagues when I was a  Police Officer (Yes really, I was. I kid you not.) Anywho, he arrested this guy in a public toilet for doing things in a public toilet which really aren’t acceptable….but that’s not important. What is, is the fact that this guy had a bag of bread with him which had been cut into perfect cubes & he liked to take the cubes wipe them round the toilet bowl & eat them…..It tasted a bit like a McDonald’s Filet o Fish apparently…Not really, I just made that bit up but I expect nutrition wise, they’re fairly evenly matched……

Ok, these aren’t really calamities they’re more kind of observations, but observations doesn’t fit the tune.  I tend to have more toilet ‘challenges’ than calamities.  Take such as the time I was over come by intense cramps & needed the loo urgently, only to find just about every public toilet in the area closed.  I was within an a centimetre of doing something I hadn’t done since I was a very small child. That was a challenge I am in no hurry to repeat, believe me. Don’t pity me & my bowels though, it is entirely of my own doing.  Had I known what effect years of laxative abuse would have had on me in later life, I would have banned the Anorexic me from ever buying them (or at very least urged myself to keep a toilet roll in my handbag). On the plus side though, my in-depth knowledge of the optimum dosage for effectiveness of Ex-Lax came in very handy when we had a sandwich thief at the last place I worked.  I left some Ex-tra special chocolate spread sarnies out for them.  Unpleasant? well, that’s eating disorders for you. The effects stay with you forever. OK, so now if you haven’t been totally repulsed and are still here, I will share my observations with you ( The subconscious me is way funnier than the other me, I read that back & I had written ‘I will SHAT my observations with you’.  One day, I am just going to publish a post without any re-edits or spell checks & we can see how my mind REALLY works..)…


Is it just me or does anyone else only bother to wash their hands after going to the toilet when there are other people around? – I was actually on the last edit of this and I realised the first line actually said ‘Is it just me or does anyone else only bother to use their hands after going to the toilet when there are other people around?’. Now that just fills my head with images of habits which are far more disgusting than anything even I could have  & now my mind needs a thorough bleaching…. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes…   Let’s face it, you just want to get out of the loo’s – Perhaps you have left a bit of a whiff, or one of those floaters that refuses to be flushed (Why do public toilets take so long to refill?)  before anyone see’s you and just as you leave the cubicle, someone else comes in, which means you have to go through the whole palava of washing your hands with soap & water in a ‘ I didn’t notice you were there, but I ALWAYS do this’ kind of way. After all I have standards, there is one thing being a grubby mare, but its’ a whole different ball game when people KNOW you are grubby.


And why is it,  when you go in to the loo for a number 2, the whole block is empty until you sit on the toilet and are about to go about your business (which  you know it is going to be loud), someone walks in? Do you:

A) Hold it in?

B) Cough and fiddle with the toilet paper?

C) Flush and hope the sound of cascading water drowns out the sound of your bum trumpets?

Who are those people?  How do they know? Are they employed to inconvenience (pun intended) your toilet visits or do they just do it as some macabre hobby? I once had to stand guard outside the loo’s in a shopping centre in Montreal because my friend needed to ‘go’ but didn’t want to ‘perform’ to an audience. We found an empty row of toilets, I waited outside the main doors with the express instructions to poke my head in and innocently shout “ Emma! Are you still in here?” should it look as though anyone was heading towards the loo’s.  Apparently, looking as though she had been in there for hours & may have fallen down the hole was infinitely less embarrassing than being heard having a poo by a complete stranger. Of course, on the flip side, there are also those occasions where someone who clearly loves themselves goes into the toilet next to you and makes the biggest accidental fart noise ever! (Yes, heavy handed with the fake tan, girl in the gym I am talking about you).


I always feel I have a responsibility to warn the next user that I am not the person who made that smell/skid.  This usually happens when the toilets are busy, there is a queue and the ‘one out, one in’ thing going on.  I can guarantee I ALWAYS get the toilet after the little old lady with a bowel problem or personal hygiene issue. I have to fight the urge to say to the person following “Wow! There is a really strong sweaty betty smell in there! But, I want you to know, it isn’t me”.  Occasionally, I have had to nip straight out with a OTT disgusted look on my face and rejoin the queue, because there was no way on earth I was taking responsibility for THAT.


I always carry a pack of tissues.  You never know when you are going to use a toilet where the attendant is a bit slack when it comes to replenishment of toilet paper.  Top tip though, make sure you have just plain old tissues.  I once had to use a cold tissue which had been impregnated with Olbas Oil and that thought still makes my eyes water. We have the most amazing toilet attendant at work, she polishes the hell out of the loo brushes, but NEVER refills the toilet paper dispensers.  So whilst there may be occasions where you can’t wipe your  arse, at least you can see the look of panic on your face in a nice shiny stainless steel toilet brush holder.


Where do I stand on quality of toilet paper? Well, I have conflicting views depending on the convenience. At home, we use the cheapest we can get.  Mainly because we have very dodgy drainage,  anything too thick blocks pipes and comes flooding out on to  the road 5 houses down. (this has happened once and I may or may not have walked past and said “oh, that  one looks familiar”).  Also, as the great Jim Royle said, if you are going to buy that expensive shyte you may as well wipe your arse on five-pound notes. ( for those of you not familiar with the Royle Family you should really check it out. And yes, families like that really do exist in England). When I am taking advantage of public facilities however, I expect something nice and cushiony soft as it provides excellent sound proofing.

On a final note, when I was a child my aunt (who fancied herself as an amateur psychologist) used to tell me I had an anal fixation. Well to her and anyone else who may think this is the case, I have only one thing to say..



Thanks to the comments from my lovely chums, I have been reminded of another story concerning Emma, the toilet shy friend.  She was using what she thought was a toilet in a service station in France, a hole in the ground variety, when her mum screamed & said “Oh Emma! look!” she looked up and saw a shower head…yep, she was peeing in a shower cubicle.