"I can’t help it, gas escapes from my fundament on the least pretext, it’s hard not to mention it now and then, however great my distaste. One day I counted them. Three hundred and fifteen farts in nineteen hours, or an average of over sixteen farts an hour. After all it’s not excessive. Four farts every fifteen minutes. It’s nothing. Not even one fart every four minutes. It’s unbelievable. Damn it, I hardly fart at all, I should never have mentioned it. Extraordinary how mathematics help you to know yourself."
"When the Ukrainian president, Viktor Yanukovich, was a young hoodlum on the make in late 1960s Soviet Donetsk – or so the story goes – he made his first money through the following ruse: he would lurk in a cubicle in a public toilet in winter. When a man came into the cubicle next door, he would wait for the opportune moment, then lean over, grab the man’s expensive fur hat and make a run for it: the victim, caught with his pants down, mid-crap, was in no state to give chase."
"A cow in a field saw a beautiful buttercup but when she sat down to eat this beautiful buttercup she found a bee had settled on it and the cow said to the bee you get off, this is my beautiful buttercup but the bee said I will not I got here first. So the cow said you go on get off it and the bee said I will not and the cow said I saw it first but the bee said I was here in front of you, so then the cow said if you don’t I shall eat you as well as my buttercup but the bee said if you do I will sting you after. Then the cow ate the beautiful buttercup and the bee and when the bee was down in the cow’s belly he thought it all was so dark so nice and warm he might as well have a nap before he stings the cow. So he drops off for a bit but when he woke up the cow was gone."
"Mumbling and spewing obscenities as he staggered about the stage—which he had commandeered by threatening to beat up the previous M.C.—Mailer described in detail his search for a usable privy on the premises. Excretion, in fact, was his preoccupation of the night."
"Now God has gathered in me and I foresee
the almost empty coffee cup,
the ease of almost empty bowels,
the pleasant constipation of newspapers:
all yesterday is dead, to-day
a desperate omen of tomorrow."