The BullRing of Fire

(This post is dedicated to the memories of Liam Fairhurst and his friend Jack Wilkinson.

Liam was born on 26th February 1995 and in 2005 was diagnosed with a rare high grade soft tissue Cancer called Synovial Sarcoma. 

Liam met Jack whilst undergoing treatment and they became fast friends, swapping treatment stories and spending hours laughing together. 

In 2006 Jack sadly died at age 12. 

Liam was subsequently driven to fundraise for others whilst undergoing aggressive treatments for his illness. Never once did he give up. He was selfless beyond words.

In 2009 Liam sadly died aged 14. 

His family set up a foundation in his name liamfairhurstfoundation.com and Liam's brother Callum is currently cycling around America for his brother. Their mother Sarah asked me about this story and I feel today is the right time to share. 

Happy Birthday Liam. I hope you like a poo story. Share it with Jack. You can laugh together. Aren't friends amazing.)

When Will from 'The Inbetweeners' shat himself, his friends didn't offer him a hug or comfort, they laughed and called him 'Bumlog Millionaire', 'Vladimir Pootin' and 'Brad shit.'

Some might say this is cruel and unkind. I say this is true friendship. 

When I was pregnant,  I was having 'baby-safe chemo', as you know, and one of the side effects is 'loose bowels.' Loose bowels??? Who I am kidding.... I mean the trots!! Ass cannon, bum wee, Poo-nado. Or medically; diarrhoea.

Anyway, whilst mid cycle of the first chemo that didn't work; my oldest friends and I went to Birmingham Christmas markets. 

Lucy sat with me while I had the drugs pumped into my arm and the minute the tubes were disconnected we were hauling ass out of hospital and into the cars for a night of carefree living in a Birmingham travel lodge. 

We spent most of the first day stuck on the M5 and when we eventually arrived we made the somewhat stupid decision to have a Thai. 

This Thai was hot. 

And when I say hot, it was tantamount to wearing a ski suit whilst licking the sun. 

Yeah that hot!

The next day whilst en route to the Bullring for a spot of sophisticated shopping, I got the pre 'poo-nado' warning siren in my guts. 

Oh crap. Literally. 

The good people of Birmingham were currently in the process of remodelling all their roundabouts so we were stuck in the mother-of-all traffic jams. It's ok. I can do this.

Then came the hot sweats and the panic that usually accompany the realisation of imminent soil-age of ones under crackers. 

Try and think of something else they said.

We are nearly there they said. 

So is this poo I said. 

As the threat of a full outfit right-off descended, the hub caps of the Bullring came into view and thus the promise of a public toilet...mind you I'd have settled for a long drop in central Deli at this point. 

Unfortunately the sweet sensation of imminent release had traveled to my bowels as I uttered the immortal words 'oh no. I think I'm guna shit myself!'

With driving skills to rival Jenson Button and re-enacting one of those chase scenes out of a Bond movie, Anna took a very hard left into what looked like the parking lot of a mechanic's business set to the backdrop of the film Deliverance. 

A war cry of 'don't worry I've got wet wipes' blasted out from the back seat as Anna breaked hard and I yanked on the door handle ready to do a moving exit stage left. 'Someone come with me' I cried as Gemma was already running out of the back shouting 'Me! That's me! I love this shit.' 

I bolted for the edge of the car park, dodging car part after car part to run into a corner of hell that can only be described as a crack-den intermingled with that toilet out of trainspotting. 

I was already 'dropping trou' as the departure gates were opening. As I began to squat I couldn't even consider that I might be reversing onto a heroine needle left by last nights tenants. I just needed to feel the air hit my bum and all would be well. 

The trousers were down, the pants were clear, Gemma's face was lit up like a Christmas tree when it came! 

The words biggest pooNami. 

And MAN , did it hurt!!!!! 

Squatting whilst pregnant is bad enough without having to fire the entire contents of the worlds hottest chillis out of your ass. It really gave a whole new meaning to the word Bullring. 

So, there we were. Me, my hysterical friend Gemma (who was laughing so much she nearly had to join me), and my bum contents. Just chilling in a car park.

That my friends, is friendship.