Oh Danny Boy, The Pipes, The Pipes, Are Calling…..

I warn you now; this post is full of shit. Might be best to not eat whilst reading.

So, how was your Christmas then?

Fun I hope? Filled with good company, great food, and more nibbles than you can shake a tiny cocktail sausage at.

I must admit, I am feeling the effect of it at the moment. After a few days of nonstop excess, I am more bloated than a bullfrog right now. And my Irritable Bowel Syndrome is bloody killing me at the moment.

So all the above is more than likely going to lead me down a path which I thought I wouldn’t be visiting for a long, long, while.

The path called colonic irrigation.

Due to my IBS, I have often flirted with the idea of having a colonic for many years now. And about six months ago, I finally decided to take the plunge(r).

But I wasn’t alone on this………

I was talking to my mate Andy at work, just shooting the shit and stuff, when I mentioned that I was thinking of having it done. Immediately his eyebrows shot up.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to have that done as well. I’ve heard you feel great afterwards and I suffer terribly from bloating sometimes. Can I come with you?”

I have to admit, I was a tad surprised at this.

“Seriously? You want to come with me?” I asked him.

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Well, isn’t it a bit weird, two blokes going together?”

“I’m pretty sure we won’t have to share the same pipe or anything.” he replied.

I had visions of us lying on a bed each, holding hands, while massive tubes left each of us and formed a giant Y shape as it went into a huge shit collecting machine.

I tried hard not to shudder.

“Well, if you really want to have it done, of course you can come with me.” I told him, pretty glad for the company to be honest.

And the weird thing was, as soon as you mentioned to anyone that you are planning to have this procedure done, whoever is listening always proclaims that they want to have it done as well. It’s like we all have this underlying urge to stick a pipe up our arse and be cleansed. It just takes someone brave enough to admit they are having it done for everyone else to start coming out of the woodwork.

Eventually the day of the great bum cleansing rolled round. I met Andy up in London and could tell immediately from the look on his face that he was worried.

“I’m worried.” he said.

I’m good, aren’t I?

“What's up mate?”

“Well, I’m about to have a pipe shoved up my bum. That's not right. This is so wrong. Will you come in with me?”

“Do what?” I asked him.

“Will you come in with me? I don’t know if I can do this on my own.”

“Right, so you want me to come in with you, while you get half naked and have a pipe shoved up your anus?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Please. Can’t we just ask if that's allowed?”

I sighed and rubbed a hand over my eyes.

“Alright, if you really want me to come in with you, I’ll ask them if that's OK. But it is seriously fucking weird and we are never telling anyone if I do.”

“Deal.” Andy replied with a small note of relief in his voice.

As we walked through the door of the clinic, we were assaulted by the sound of new age music and the scent of incense hung heavy in the air. It was all very posh and very exclusive.

We stuck out like an erection in a church.

“This is…..nice.” Andy said, too afraid to touch anything.

I walked over to the reception with more confidence than I felt.

“Hello, me and my friend are here for some bum…I’m sorry, I mean colonic irrigation.” I said.

“What's your names please?” the receptionist asked me.

“I’m Dan Keenan. The pale and sweating man over there is Andy Newlands.”

Andy gave a weak little wave.

“OK then. Mr Keenan, your session is at six. Mr Newlands, yours is after at seven. Please take these health questionnaires and hand them in to your technician.”

I took the forms off her.

“Listen, this may sound like an odd question, but is there any chance that I could sit in on my friend’s session? He's a bit nervous.”

She looked at me like I was a complete mental.

“He is very nervous.” I followed up with a weak smile. We both looked over towards Andy, who was reading a poster about the best ways to align your auras with your moods. Admittedly he did look incredibly nervous. Whether it was from the ordeal we were about to go through, or the simple fact that he was totally unaware that he had an aura until now, we’ll never know.

“I’m sorry, each session is private I’m afraid. We can’t allow anyone else to sit in on them. Plus, why on earth would you want to?”

I have to admit, she had me at that one.

“Your right, of course. Sorry, silly question.” I tried to give her one last reassuring smile, but she looked at me like any minute now I was going to tear my shirt off and start trying to receive radio signals through my nipples.

I walked over to Andy.

“Do you know that our auras are visible to all animals?” he said.

“I didn’t mate.” I replied, handing him his form. “You’re on your own I’m afraid buddy. They won’t let me in with you.”

“Shit.”

“Yep. And soon to be lots of it. Shall we?”

We sat down on a comfortable couch.

“So, you gonna be OK waiting for an hour while I have mine done, then I will do the same for you?” I asked him.

“Yeah, that's fine.” he said, eyes running down the huge list of questions on his form. “It says here ‘Have you ever had discharge from your nipples?’ I've never had that, have I?”

“I don’t think so? We never really talk about your nipples to be honest. I think that's if you’re a woman though, the leaky nips.”

“Oh. I’ll tick no then?”

“Probably best.”

Suddenly I heard my name being called out.

We looked at each other.

“Well, this is it then.” I said.

I resisted the urge to hug him and just settled for a manly handshake.

“Good luck” he said.

“You too.”

It was all very British.

I walked over to the treatment room, took a deep breath before I entered………

Please don’t be attractive. Please don’t be attractive. Please don’t be attractive.

………..and then pushed the door open to find that my one and only true fear- that I would be dealing with an incredibly hot Brazilian nurse who would get to see a side of me no woman should ever see- was gladly not going to come true. A middle aged woman with a warm reassuring smile was sitting waiting for me behind a desk.

“Hello.” I said, and immediately started to remove my trousers.

The woman sitting behind the desk looked a little shocked.

“Oh no Mr Keenan, I have a few questions to ask first before you do that!”

“Oh.”

Zip goes back up.

Face goes red.

Epic fail.

We went through my questionnaire and I explained my reasoning for wanting the procedure done. Apparently many IBS sufferers have a colonic every few months and it greatly eases the discomfort. If it could take away a little bit off the pain I often felt, then it was all worthwhile in my opinion.

“OK then Mr Keenan, if you would like to pop your trousers and undergarments off and put on this gown, we shall get cracking.”

Once I was changed into my gown, with my arse hanging out in the wind, I hopped onto the treatment table. 

“Now you probably have a good idea about what's going to happen, but I will fill you in anyway. I will be inserting a tube up your rectum, don’t worry, it is very small and will be fully lubricated, so you won’t feel any discomfort, and we will begin to pump a warm saline solution into your lower bowl. You may feel a certain sensation like you are going to defecate, but please don’t worry, you won’t!”

She laughed at this. I could only nod like an idiot.

“It will feel like a rhythmic motion, you fill up, and then you will drain, removing all the compacted faeces and trapped gasses. It should take about a half hour to complete, and then you will be free to go home. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good. I’m psyched. Let’s do this” I said, clapping my hands together.

“OK then, if you would like to lie on your side and draw your knees up to your body.”

I did so as she busied herself behind me.

“I’ve lubricated up the nozzle…………”

And then she said the words that no man should ever hear.

“……and I’m now going to insert it into your anus.”

And she did.

Hmmmmmmmn. Different.

It didn’t hurt. It just felt very……..impersonal?

“The nozzle is fully in now, you’re doing great. I’m now going to start pumping in the solution.”

Whoa! HELLO! What's this?????????

Imagine you really need to poo. Multiply that by a thousand, that's what it felt like as my bowl slowly filled with warm solution.

“I think I’m going to shit myself!” I said in a panic as images of a warm jet of bottom water spraying everywhere like a fire hose filled my mind (I did warn you not to eat!).

“That's OK.” the doctor replied reassuringly “The tube will drain it all out in a minute.”

Just when it felt that I couldn’t hold it in any longer, the flow stopped and began to reverse out of me. I could feel the solution slowly, and very fucking weirdly, begin to leave my body.

I felt like a milkshake.

“This is so weird.” I said, staring fixatedly at the wall.

“Would you like to see what is being expelled from your body?” she asked me in a voice most people use when asking you if you would like to view their new conservatory.

“Nope, your fine” I replied curtly. “I’m just happy knowing it’s out there.”

So we carried on like this, solution goes in, evil comes out. All the while she was rubbing my belly and making soothing noises. It wasn’t half as bad as I thought it was going to be.

The whole process was over pretty quickly. She gave me a little pat on the shoulder and said “There. All done now. You can hop off.”

I woozily stood up, not really caring that my arse was on display.

“How do you feel?” she asked me.

“I feel pretty-“ I stopped when my backside started to make a noise like water going down a drain.

“Ohhhhh, that doesn’t feel good!” I said in alarm.

“Quickly, use the toilet down the hallway!” she said with urgency in her voice.

Odd things were happening to my nether regions. A build up of pressure was growing and I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to hold it in any longer. I scrabbled at the door, yanked it open and began to run.

“Mr Keenan!” I heard the nurse cry out behind me “You have to……..” But the rest was lost on me as I legged it down the corridor; head down with gown flapping behind me like Batman, as I ran towards the heavenly sanctuary of the toilet.

I shut the door, sat on the loo, and waited.

I didn’t have to wait long.

I won’t go into too much detail, needless to say, jets of molten lava shot out of me, combined with wind that wouldn’t sound out of place if it were howling round the very gates of hell.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” I cried out, my arse reduced to tatters in seconds.

It was relentless, a never ending stream of evil. The small toilet began to fill up with a noxious stench that began to make me gag. My left leg was involuntarily kicking the door in front of me as each spasm pulsed through my violated body.

“Make it stop! Please make it stop!” I moaned to myself, sweat pouring off my forehead.

Finally the evil began to slow down and I shakily got to my feet. That sudden movement must have dislodged some well hidden evil in some cosy nook in my body as my bottom started doing the hippy hippy shake once more.

“Why won’t this end?” I cried out, as the toilet began to fill up once more with the smell of death and my bumhole began to sound like the Philharmonic Brass Orchestra. I half expected to see blue sheets of flame shoot out of my arse like I was some form of human Catherine Wheel.

Finally, after what felt like I actually passed a kidney through my poop chute, I gathered up my gown around me and opened the door to be confronted by a waiting room full of people, all looking at me in disgust and horror as the foul stench and green fog began to billow out from the toilet behind me. I hadn’t realised that the waiting area was right in front of the toilet I was using and they had all heard every last detail of my 15 minute visit.

My face was burning as much as my arse was.

Trying to muster up as much dignity as I could, I proudly walked back to the nurse’s office, trying to pull the gown round my backside, but naturally leaving a foot long gap between the edges.

It’s a good job I have a nice bum……..

The nurse was trying to hold back a smile as I walked back in.

“You went in the wrong toilet Mr Keenan. You could have used the one right outside the treatment room. I did try to tell you.”

Epic fail part 2.

After making my goodbyes to the nurse, I gingerly sat down in the waiting room, avoiding everyone else's gaze. After about 40 minutes, I saw Andy taking little baby steps down the corridor towards me. He looked white.

“You OK mate?” I asked him as he reached me.

He gave a little shake of his head and said nothing more.

After we paid at reception, we both walked slowly down the road towards the station.

Finally, Andy broke the silence.

“I feel like I’ve been fucked by a horse.”

“Me too. That wasn’t nice in the slightest.”

“I’m never having that done again.” he said, shaking his head. Then he spotted a pub in the distance.

“I need to poo.”

“Me too.”

We pooed.

I have to admit though, that afterwards for about a month, I really did feel so much better. My IBS was under control and I hardly had any pain at all. So it definitely did do something right on that front. Just not a very pleasant procedure to go through really.

So due to the Christmas excess, and the fact I have been suffering lately, I am thinking of going again. Sadly, Andy isn’t with us anymore. I don’t mean he has died, he has just moved to Jersey (which in its own way is probably the same thing). But he called me the other night and said he will be over soon.

I got my poo buddy back……