South Park

The Streaming Wars

Date: Wed Jun 01, 2022

Season: 25

Episode: Special

The Bidet.

After 25 years sequestered away here on the Pitcairns I finally mustered the courage to engage with the array of buttons on the space age Japanese shitter. Had long thought fuck no, all these buttons are in Japanese, dumbarse me will just push the wrong fucken button and instantly transform the bog cubicle into an uncontrollable raging geyser of shit spew, funneling all up the walls and all over my own hands and face and eyelids.

Turns out there's only 3 buttons. The "Bidet" button is actually for chicks. If I'd ever paid attention I wouldve fucken seen the button is PINK and is actually a picture of a chicks arse. Moran. Some sort of gash flush I'd imagine.

Next button is a mild-strength thin spout of water shooting right up the clacker. Woah. I braced myself expecting the worst and still maintain that brace expecting the worst.

Last button is the full monty. The pneumatic arse-clag remover. A power jet of sumptious intent. Straight and hard. OK, it wasn't that powerful. But still vaguely terrifying. I still tense myself expecting this Apollo 13 of colonic import to go 1986 Challenger on my arse. Maybe my rigourous WASP heritage precludes me from enoying the deliciously dizzying sensation of jet streams of warm water providing a full colonic enema right up the clacka after every dump.

PRO-TIP: you got to pluck your junk up so it aint dangling down when ol' faithful lets loose. I guess you should cover the bog bowl with your big fat arse too, to seal off all exits, but ffs even if you don't I don't think towers of water are going to shoot out of the bog bowl at random angles, showering the walls with souvenir strains of fecal matter. This would be a noticeable design flaw.

Now feel a bit dumb and unsophisticated and coarse for having persisted with toilet paper since I graduated from diapery in the 1920's. Gross. Clawing around the anus fissure with scraps of paper, getting it all over your hands, even having to visibly witness the revolting aftershart refuse of your decaying meat machine. Ugh. What was I thinking.

Turns out the Butthole Surfers were right all along. There really is a Brown Reason To Live.



It's taken me this long to realise the entire concept of the record was an ode to the bidet. Even their goddamn band name.

Thank you, Butthole Surfers.