Back in the 80s I struggled a bit with what was supposed to be IBS, though the symptoms didn't really fit and it eventually went away by itself. But before it did I was sent for a barium enema. What an experience. First they fill yer bowel with air to blow it up a bit (like blowing those annoying paper unrolling whistles in Christmas crackers). Then they pump all this white runny stuff up you. Then the X-ray, then the "emptying."

But they made me put on one of those hospital gowns that tie at the back. My one was clearly designed for a midget. It barely (geddit?) went down to the bottom of my bumchicks and it was not possible to not have a two-inch slit all the way down me back. I had to walk knickerlessly round the hospital from one room to another like that. Sitting down on chairs was basically an act of public indecency. After the procedure, I was directed to a small suite of toilets (more arse-out walking around from room to room) and instructed to sit on one to let it all hang out. Thing is, the row of bogs was opposite a patients' waiting area and there were lots of people there. On top of that, the flimsy bog doors had gaps a foot high at the bottom, so you could see the feet of the sitting occupants... Needless to say, every sound could be heard. Every gurgle, slosh, gush and massive 40-second fart. It was all so bloody ridiculous that I sat in there laughing my head off. I was amazed that the assembled waiting patients didn't burst into spontaneous applause when I emerged. Mind you, they were probably all worried that they were about to be put through the same experience...