Talk about dying for the toilet

“Yes,” I agreed, “There is, as Benjamin Franklin so wittily observed, nothing more certain than death and ... going to the toilet,” I said. Though I couched it in more Anglo-Saxon terminology. Well, someone’s got to add a bit of levity to this grim pillow talk.

Which prompted her to find out how many times we evacuate our bowels in a lifetime. As you do.

At this point I can hear you groan: “Is this what we really want to read about in our favourite newspaper? Just before tea? And it’s sausages...”

You may be right, but then I bet you keep reading to find out how many. Some of you may well be trying to work it out on your fingers, trying to average out the number of number twos you ‘enjoy’ a day. Times that by 365 and by the number of years you reckon you’ll live.

There’s a website that can do the math. It’s a German one, naturally (they are obsessed with death), and you put in your exact birthdate (to the minute, if possible), your sex and some other geographical info and out pops the number. For the record, the average is about 27,000 toilet journeys a lifetime. Disturbingly, I discovered I was approaching the 20,000 mark. Puts life into perspective. Too much perspective, as Spinal Tap would say.

I’ve yet to find a practical use for this information. Bulk-buying toilet rolls at the birth of a new baby, perhaps. Turning up at a baby shower with a two truckloads of Andrex knocks a ‘Little dribbler’ bib into a cocked hat every day of the week.

Personally, I think the medical profession should adopt the poop countdown to ease the fear factor when giving bad news.

“I’ll give him 270 poops, 300 max” sounds a lot more encouraging than being told you have three months to live. Don’t you think?

Wait a minute, If we measured life in urine visits the number would be even bigger and, as such, appear to buy you more time.

“Relax, he’s a got a good 900 piddles still left in him.” An innovative idea? Or do you think I am just taking the, erm, Mickey?