Colonic irrigation – good for you?

The enema of the state

To celebrate Annual Poo Week at lieslieslies (there isn’t one – we made it up) we have decided to find the secret behind the perfect enema.

Ok, this is fairly low-brow but stick with it. We searched the internet extensively for at least a minute and after typing in the word ‘enema’ in our no-stone-left-unturned investigation we stumbled across ‘How to… the enema.’

Clearly this sounds like a film in which Morgan Freeman might be interested, but he’s too expensive. In this entertainment-fest you get full instruction, complete with detailed advice about how you can remove resistant poo from your bottom. In this enlightening, yet disconcerting video, the ‘professional’ places a mannequin, complete will full male genitalia (is this necessary?) on its side and inserts a see-through, two-metre-long pipe up its rectum.

It is, it’s fair to say, unpleasant viewing.

Once you have winced your way through to the end it does beg the question: who on God’s holy Earth thinks, ‘You know what, I need an enema, and you know what, I’ll do it myself.’

Maybe I’m missing something here. Surely there’s limited appeal for a ‘consumer advice’ film featuring a man in a white coat shoving a hosepipe up the rear end of a crash test dummy? And what of colonic irrigation itself? Who actually thought of this? Maybe they were hosing the lawn naked, dropped the hose, and the attachment found its way up their behind.

Stranger things have happened, but not many.

There are claimed health benefits: colonic irrigation will remove dried-up stools, dead tissue, parasites, worms and the odd bag of carrots. If your diet has mainly consisted of kebabs and curry expect a more strangled procedure where a putty knife will surely feature. At the end of it all, however, you’ll know that you have have a squeaky clean intestine where waste will leave your body like mercury spilling from a broken thermometer.

As well as leaving you secure in the knowledge that you possess silken-smooth internals free of mulched-up sausage sarnies, the enema should stave off bloating, wind, diarrhoea, irritable bowel syndrome, fatigue, allergies, back pain and even multiple sclerosis. That’s the theory anyway, but interestingly, there is currently no medical or scientific evidence to prove its effectiveness.

If you are tempted, you”ll have to accept that this is a costly, undignified operation where there’ll undoubtedly be somebody filming your behind for untold hilarity later on when it is revealed to a mass audience on YouTube. For your £80 charge (this is the going rate for a decent enema) you’ll marvel, along with your colleagues at work, the process where half the water from the Heathrow reservoir will be pumped through to your colon to free up a few shopping-trolley loads of crap that has been stuck in there for 20-odd years. Then you’ll whoop as you see the aged contents pass through a tube and into a vatload of other unfortunates’ excrement.

We think the enema is a bad idea. Nature did the job quite well with the current set-up, but if you are insistent and have £80 to spare in order to have a bit of a spring clean in the old bomb bay, then it’s hosepipe time for you.

But for goodness’ sake, just don’t do it yourself.

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How to look good naked

Too many pies

Last night was the first in a new series on Channel 4’s How to Look Good Naked, hosted by Gok Wan.

This is a pity.

The fact is, the only way you can look good without any clothes on is to be slim, attractive, get some exercise and stop eating pies. Putting on fake tan and and a bit of lippy won’t do the job.

If you’re a biffa don’t let Gok coerce you into showing your dangly bits to a 200-strong all-chav crowd in the Bluewater Shopping Centre because, although the short-term adulation might seem attractive, you’ll look back knowing any sort of dignity you did have has evaporated like a teardrop in a smelting plant.

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Think tanks

Think. Tank

The  Goverment, as part of its budget-cutting slash-and-burn policies, has decided it’s time to dismantle the rather pointless and unnecessary pool of think tanks.

That’s probably a wise decision.

Why? Well, let’s face it, is there really any constructive thinking going in think tanks?

I very much doubt it.

Usually any policy, law, system or strategy that comes from a think tank is hopelessly inept. And you have to ask the question: who on earth works in think thanks? People with overly large heads?

The think tank is an enigma. How do you get a job in a think tank? What do you put on your CV? ‘I’m good at thinking?’

I think quite a lot. It comes naturally. Sometimes I think about yoghurt. It’s off milk. Then I might look down at the button on my jeans and wonder if I could use it as a medieval seal on a very important piece of mail. Sometimes I think about how many times I’ve blinked and thought what a weird shape ears are. Often I imagine Sophie Dahl with a space hopper for a head.

This I feel, makes me ideal for an £80k-a-year job in a think tank.

We have to wake up to the fact that people who work in think tanks are only good for Sudoku and crosswords, and they should not be seen as any kind of benchmark for sensible government policy. But what they do have is an easy life: you can imagine these galactically useless individuals skulking around the corridors until their equally useless bosses confront them about their workrate.

‘Jones! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get back to your desk and do some more thinking.’

‘Sorry sir, I was looking down at the button on my trousers and I started to think: ‘ Wonder if…’

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The woman’s G-spot

Spot the G-spot?

Shortly after the suffragettes women discovered the G-Spot and ever since then man, in an Indiana Jones Ark of the Covenant-style search, has been trying to find it. According to the, ahem, sexperts, it’s inside the vagina, about two inches up in the frontal wall.

Millions of men, desperate to save ailing marriages, have been fumbling around to find this most elusive pleasure zone and as Indy well knows, X never marks the spot.

Finding the G-spot is like trying to find an earring that fell behind the washing machine. Now, after all those years, King’s College scientists, who studied this, tell us that the G-Spot doesn’t actually exist.

But the French, determined to keep reputations intact, are revolting, says The Guardian.

‘The King’s College study … shows a lack of respect for what women say,’ said Pierre Foldès, a leading French surgeon. ‘The conclusions were completely erroneous because they were based solely on genetic observations and it is clear that in female sexuality there is a variability … It cannot be reduced to a ‘yes’ or ‘no’, or an ‘on’ or an ‘off’.’

The British study involved 1,800 female twins being asked whether or not they thought they had a G-spot. After a bit of hemming and hawwing, some huffing and puffing and an overdose of prodding the sample of twins concluded that… they didn’t know.


That’s a terrible shame because it’s a lot of man hours wasted and will undoubtedly lead to many more arguments containing the phrase ‘I told you so’.

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