It has to be the work of the devil. I cant think of anything better than taking up residence on the trumping pot and having a good dump. When you feel that shift in your bowels instinctively you begin to nurture your expectant jobbie, knowing that for just a few precious minutes nothing matters, savoring every second.... and then you get it, that sweeping sense of relief as the babies arm plunges into the bowl. After a day hammering the shops, i was looking forward to getting home and mounting my porcelain charger to deposit the 7.99 all you can eat buffet (Cheese Burger, Pasta, Potato Wedges, Chilli, Chicken Wings, Chicken Thighs and a 12" Pizza just about got my monies worth). Anyway my point... finally get poised on the pot when the little one wakes up screaming. I had two choices, rush job or rain cheque. I opt for the latter as i shuffled along the landing, trollies round ankles bum cheeks firmly clenched. Eventually getting the snot goblin back off to sleep i head back to the bog, pausing for a quick recce of my knicks incase id crimped the turtles head off in the panic.. phew all clear. So there i sit... and sit... little push, nothing... and again nothing.... hands griping the bowel for a gut wrenching strain... still nothing!!!!! My beauty, my stress relieving turd had crept back up my colon and was refusing to play. Gutted aint the word... so here i am, my arse bunged tighter than a pedophiles date. Am i the only one who dreads this cruel affliction?