The Chart

I am entertained by simple things. Take the Bristol Stool Chart, for example. It's a reference tool used by doctors and nurses since 1997, and it addresses a serious topic-- gastrointestinal health.

I think it's hilarious. I first heard of the chart from my friend Luce, who works as a physiotherapist at Melbourne Hospital. She knew of my fondness for toilet humour and asked me one day if I'd like her to find me a copy of the chart to hang on my wall-- perhaps in the bathroom or kitchen. I think my reply was something like, "Duh!"

That was a couple of years ago, but she still hasn't been able to find a "nice one" for me. Given the workplace context in which I imagine this chart being used, I'm willing to wait. In the meantime, though, I came across this handy pocket-sized version included with a product called Motion Potion-- one of the lamer freebies Alison got in her bag of goodies after a triathlon she ran last season.

Mike digs a latrine.

Poop is funny on its own, but I also derive pleasure from thinking about how this chart first came to be. First, the illustrations: someone drew or painted these pictures by hand. The Bristol Stool Scale may have been published in 1997, but the style of illustration, cute and storybookish, is straight out of the 1930s. These little brown piles could easily have been censored from the final edits of Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel or Fun with Dick and Jane. 


And then there's the writing. What fun! I can imagine the copy writer walking that fine line, imagining how best to describe a piece of shit and not make someone sick or collapse with laughter:

"Like a sausage, smooth and soft."

or

"Fluffy pieces, ragged edges, mushy stool."

It's like haiku. The captions are clinically precise, but reveal a solid command of visual vocabulary. Someone had fun with this even if they tried to hide it.