A Defecating story!


How are the mighty fallen!

To the left is Ivor as at the time

I am writing this on Ivor's, (my brother uterine), 70th birthday, Friday, 28 December 2001. As time goes by I will write up stories that I have been reluctant to do in the past.

As I have said elsewhere, Ivor was always placed on a pedestal by the family, and, as I perceived only recently, had been bullying me for sixty years without me realising it.

This story shows in a dramatic, powerful and comical way our personal relationship.

Ivor was a heavy drinker and liked his Guinness. Even when drunk he did his best to maintain his dignity and respect.

We went around with about six mates and we were all invited to a wedding reception in Stratford, London, in the early fifties.

Prior to going to the party, as usual, we had a drink in the local pubs. Ivor was on the Guinness.

On time being called, we all went on to the reception party and had a good drink there!

It being late, we couldn't go home as there was no transport. So, we all dossed down where we could. We boys all kipped on the floor of the living room.

In the night, I woke to a commotion. Ivor was on the floor having tripped over while going to the toilet.

Later I was called to go and see to Ivor, who was in the toilet. What a sight! On falling over, he had shit himself! If you know Guinness, you will know that if you have nine pints of Guinness on Sunday, you can Tarmac all the roads of Essex on Monday!

And! Here it comes! There was Ivor with his trousers round his ankles, black shit all over him, stinking to high heaven TELLING me to clean him up. Even in this embarrassing condition he still maintained his position on his pedestal - arrogant and domineering to me as usual, (though I did not see it as such at the time). I even saw it as a privilege to be able to help him.

I got cloths and wiped him down. It took ages. I don't know how I was not sick. After all I had had a good drink.

After I had cleaned him up, I asked around for something for him to wear and got him a pair of overalls.

Of course, all the boys were laughing at him and pulling his leg, (I daren't!).

In the morning we went to Plaistow station to go home, and there was Ivor with his shitty bundle under his arm mustering all the dignity he was able! Later he gave the bundle to Mum for her to take to the dry cleaners. Being more Jewish than I, he wouldn't throw them away!

Ivor never allowed the story to be mentioned. Much later he was to "forget" it ever happened and went into an apoplectic rage whenever it was referred to.

He always responds in like manner when any reference is made to the family's poor background. He was determined to blot out his true past. I may be able to leave the truth behind for our successors to see. (Well as I know it!)