Dear Diary. Today I went up into the loft to look for a jumper. After searching around for ages and finding literally everything except a jumper, I gave up and started climbing back down the ladder. But as I was climbing down, I farted. Except the fart came with a surprise: some poo. I believe the term for this is 'sharting'.

I stood on the ladder, frozen with the realisation that there was now poo in my pants. Then I hurried down the ladder, went down the stairs and made it to the bathroom (the only bathroom in the house) only the find the door closed and the sound of someone, probably my dad, having a shower.

So I grabbed some sheets of kitchen paper and started wiping my bum, right there in the kitchen. Every time I wiped, a surprisingly large amount of poo came off. I flung the soiled sheets of kitchen paper into the bin, where they began stinking up the kitchen.

Then Girlfriend called for me from the living room: "Paul, is that you? Can you change 0-year-old's nappy?"

"Yeah, in a minute," I shouted.

I was wiping my bum with the fifth sheet of kitchen paper when a small brown blob of poo fell from my bum and landed with a plop on the kitchen floor. I stared at the poo in disbelief. Then I quickly scooped it up with kitchen paper and threw it in the bin. The kitchen stank of poo by this point. (I guess if anyone asked, I could blame it on the baby.)

"Paul! 4-year-old's nappy!" shouted Girlfriend.

"Yeah, in a minute!" I yelled back.

Then I ran halfway up the stairs and pulled down my shorts and pants to inspect them for poo. There was no poo in my pants. Phew.

Finally, my dad came out of the bathroom. I went into the bathroom and cleaned the remaining poo off my bum with the shower head.

Finally, after all this, I changed 0-year-old's nappy. Well, I couldn't change his nappy if I had my own own poo to deal with first, could I?