Haiku for a Poo!

 

Haiku for a Poo!

My search for the perfect Loo!!

At the Easter SHOOOOOOOW!!!

 

Some people search for The Holy Grail. Some people search for true love. My quest is for the perfect toilet at The Sydney Royal Easter Show. Ahhh! Such are the dreams of a simple man. My search began in earnest about five years ago. We had promised to take the kids to the Easter show & they were super excited. About 2 days before the big day I came down with one of the worst stomach bugs I have ever experienced in my life. I won’t to go into too much detail except to say that it wasn’t very pleasant. Anyway I dragged myself out of bed & off to the shoooow! Throughout the course of the day I had to make several trips to the loo & what I encountered were small grubby toilets with an endless procession of people waiting in line. I found myself thinking that there’s got to be a better way than this. There’s something very obscene about waiting in line to go to the toilet. I kept on thinking to myself, “It’s not a frigging ride people!” Especially when the guy two in front of you is still eating a hot dog & then after his turn leaves the cubicle & greets everybody with an apologetic, “Sorry Dudes!” 

 

 

NO!!!! I went home from that Show with singed nose hairs & a burning determination that things had to change. Never again would I be subjected to another, “Sorry Dudes!”

& So began the quest…

The next year I was lucky enough to find the adequate toilets located in the Howie/Dog Pavilion, just across the road from where they sell all the showbags. Very clean, well maintained & hardly used. This Pavilion is truly the pooping place of Champions – Portraits of all the past greats adorn the walls!! But, unfortunately they’re just not the two legged kind!

 

 

The year after that I got serious in my endeavour & became a member of The RAS. They had much better facilities, but they were still a bit over used & a tiny bit grungy for my liking. I knew I could do better than this…

 

 

 

The following year I stumbled across the little gem in bewteen buildings on the animal walk. Very nice for public toilets & hardly ever used. But, still… I longed for something with a bit more tranquillity, style & ambience. Are magazines & elevator music too much to ask for?

 

 

 

Last year I came close to perfection. Definitely, the best toilets I’ve found so far. The private toilets in the animal housing enclosures off Clarence Avenue. Very large. Very spacious. Luxurious even & also comes with the option of a shower if one so desires. Not bad, but still my heart or should I say my bottom yearned for more…

 

 

Then this year whilst looking for the Skyview Ferris Wheel I spotted it. Eureka! El derado! The Legends were True! THE JUDGES/COUNCIL SECTION of the main arena. I noticed they had burly security guards on the front doors carefully monitoring people’s comings & goings. The place looked harder to get into than Fort Knox & I thought to myself what could they possibly be protecting in there? Fruit cake recipes??

 

 

I took this photo of the front entrance. Sorry it’s a bit grainy, but I was trying my best to be covert. Notice the people being moved along by the expert people movers. You can almost hear them cooing, “Keep on Moving People! There’s nothing to see here!”

My arse there’s nothing to see here… what’s with the big expensive looking flower arrangement then!

& then it came to me like a flush of yellow lightning!! Like a bolt out of the poo!!

Those cagey buggers in their flash R.M.Williams suits & boots were keeping guard of the most precious thing at the Royal Easter Show. The perfect loo! I knew in a second what it looked like. I could see it all in my mind’s eye. The opulence. The Grandeur. The Sheer Theatre of it all!! Gold plated toilet seats. Marble bowls. A guy called Geeves to give you mints, comb your hair & perhaps even wipe your bottom. Music, magazines & perhaps even a little trickling waterfall.

 

 

I always thought the sign on the door. R.A.S stood for The Royal Agricultural Society. But now I know better. Yes, my friends! They are mocking us!!! They’re secretly laughing at us & telling us what they’ve got inside their facilities.

For what R.A.S really stands for is:

Royal Arse Shitters!!

That’s right, that’s where they keep The Royal Arse Shitters. The really flash ones!!

& I knew at that moment that I had found my Everest & that my climb would not be to the top, but to the very bottom of things. & next year I promise you this, that I shall gain access to the inner sanctums of The R.A.S. or at the very least give them the shits trying!! either way, I’m going to give these toilets one damn fine crack!!

Wish me well my friends!!

For it’s going to take luck & a hell of a lot of arse!!

 

 

2 Comments

  1. B.B.
    Apr 21, 2012

    Hey T.P.Scanlon,
    At last you have shown your real passion for some where to sit in luxury and contemplate the real issue, toilet humour.
    Not sure about your BUTler’s job description….Poor Geeves
    And can’t wait til you have your own “Show Bag” or perhaps your own pavillion for all to see….or not, the Show will never be the same.
    Yeah love your work
    B.B.

    • the poet scanlon
      Apr 22, 2012

      thanks BB… or should I say Melvyn Crumb!. always a pleasure to hear from you. you have pegged me well, my friend. i seem to be in a constant struggle with my dual nature. my yin & yang. i flitter like a dirty moth between the dark & light. like a white swan in the swamp gazing at the stars. or a black swan cruising on the clouds & pooping from the heavens. it is a heavy struggle BB. one part of me wanting to write an inspirational love sonnet & the other half thinking about fart jokes. at least I’m in good company. after all it was Shakespeare that posed the great question, “TO PEE or NOT TO PEE?”

      thanks again for your kind words BB. it would be nice to have my own showbag & pavilion. perhaps if i do take off i will one day need an assistant to take care of my business. keep in touch. I may just have an opening for you!!

      Kind Regards,
      T.P.

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