Dear Edgar,

I too share your enthusiasm for the gift of poo, imagine my surprise when I heard of the opportunity to share some of my most formative experiences with a fellow poo buff. My entry is below:

“Saturday, September seventeen, late morning, overcast…

The first inklings of the week’s most memorable poo came unexpectedly during Saturday’s morning stroll to the pub (not the usual juncture for my porcelain rendezvous). Musing on the various merits of Surbiton’s more culinary conscious establishments were interrupted by the presence of something much more sinister in my bowels. The time for careless amble was over and the decision to eat made. Poo friendly facilities in the proximity were essential. By the time I had bound up the stair to the inconveniently located first floor conveniences, my pinkened face was glistening with beads of sweat. In a state of such acute discomfort, the sight of the putrid cubicle must have looked to me like the mythical utopia of Shangrila to a wandering Tibetan.

The delivery itself was nothing short of spectacular – an uninterrupted cascade of blistering excrement was launched from anus to bowl, the viscous release peppering my underthighs and naked cheeks with gluey poo shrapnel. This Blitzkreig must have lasted a minute, expelling an aniseedy smog that would surely be the legacy of this glutenous and utterly vile stool.

Descending the stair my face bore the look of a man who had experienced more than his years might suggest – a sobering and not to be forgotten episode”