The Poolie Bunker

...and other scatophiles.

I thought you would like to know that a couple of Mondays ago, I turned up at work to be greeted by a colleague, laughing and pointing at something outside the next door office.

The subject was what can only be described as a significant amount of excrement, next to a pair of heavily skidded duds, which had seemingly been used for wiping up.

We're no detectives, but between us we worked out that someone had been harbouring a chocolate hostage for far longer than was necessary, and had to release it outdoors, possibly on the way home from a night out. In the absence of bog roll, the culprit must have used the nearest thing to hand to refresh their backside with.

The duds disappeared a couple of days later (souvenier for someone maybe?), but the heap of faeces reamins steadfast, despite the heavy rainfall of the last few days.

It's a shame I didn't get any pics of the original scene, it would certainly have graced any Tracy Emin collection of the last ten years.