Friendly fire! Man Down! By Andy Thompson

I like to think of myself as a good Dad. I'm moderately handy and my major skill of turning a sobbing child into a giggling monster quicker than you can say “sorry about throwing that ball into your face” comes in handy every day. However, there's one thing I'm terrible at doing and that is changing a nappy filled with poo. I just can’t do it. I mean I still do my duty but the miserable gagging that occurs when I do it has made me the laughing stock of the house.

Early one morning, six months ago, I lay on the carpet wrestling with my youngest. Although he doesn't actually wrestle in the traditional sense. It’s more of a prolonged sit. At one stage he ended up sitting on my head in just a nappy and t-shirt. That's when I smelled it. Poo. I carried him to the change table saw that poo had exploded out of the side of his nappy. I started changing him but then I got some on my hand and I couldn’t help but start making guttural sounds like I’d been drinking heavily the night before which, by the way, I had.

I then felt something wet on the side of my face. I looked in the mirror saw that I had a streak of runny poo sliding down from my eyebrow to my jaw-line. I squealed and then started retching. My wife, who'd been sleeping in, came into the room and said "What the hell is happening in here...OH MY GOD, YOU HAVE POO ON YOUR FACE...GAAAAAAAAGH." It was a horrible moment for everyone involved. Not for my son though. He thought it was hilarious.


I tell jokes for cash, manly hugs and free drinks. I’ll tell you which way the water flows for free. Comedian, engineer, writer and husky man-about-town.

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