The Fear of Poo

I think I have Coprophobia, the fear of poo. I hate the stuff.

It’s a weird thing. I just can’t bear it if I see some poo, any kind of poo, just lying there on the street. It gives me the shivers, and not the good kind. Dog poo, cat poo, cow poo, giraffe poo – it matters not from whence it came. I hate the stuff.

This is a bit of a problem when I’m on the early shift. I walk into work and as it’s spectacularly dark at six in the morning I obviously can’t see any potential animal land mines. During daylight hours I have a kind of poo-radar that works quite well at avoiding the mess, but it’s effect is attenuated in poor lighting conditions.

Autumn is also causing poo-related problems. There are leaves everywhere and there’s the possibility that there could be some nastiness hiding underneath. The bastards!

I hate it I hate it I hate it!

Oh well, let’s not get a complex eh?

Bizarrely, I have no problem at all with my own poo production. I’m quite proud of my logs, but they belong in the toilet and not on the pavement or other walking areas. Pooing is good. Stepping in poo, not so much.

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