70 centimetres, four flushes and half a roll of paper: the record no one wants to beat
Some records are boasted about openly, while others are shared behind closed doors. This collection of intestinal antiestéticats opens with the latter: a specimen measuring
70 centimetres that, according to its author, required
four flushes and half a roll of toilet paper to clean up the mess. The figure is no exaggeration: it is the benchmark against which everything else is measured.
What started as a direct question — what was everyone's largest bowel movement? — evolved into an involuntary catalogue of human physiology, domestic logistics, and crisis management. Because the problem is never the size. The problem is what to do afterwards.
The trick to unblocking a log that won't come out
The most useful story here is not the record, but the blockage. A participant describes the situation in detail: days without evacuating, insufficient pressure, and the sensation that it is not moving. Their recipe is counterintuitive and explained step-by-step:
push first, then relax while maintaining minimal pressure, do not get nervous, and wait for the block to loosen on its own. A slow process, they say, but effective.
The full material, with the exact sequence of tensions and pauses, is in the original source. Here, it is only possible to summarise the principle: haste is the enemy.
Keto diet, camps and military manoeuvres: the great oversights
The conversation branches into contexts where the body rebels. One of the most repeated patterns is that of
military manoeuvres: those who have experienced it recount accumulating days without evacuating, with the outcome arriving only upon returning to the barracks or home. The phenomenon has its own name in the jargon: the
brick.
Another recurring scenario is the ketogenic diet, which spaces out bathroom visits and changes the texture of the result. One participant describes it as a shower of compact pellets after several days of drought. The solution shared by another:
a slice of butter taken on an empty stomach and, ten minutes later, clear passage.
Then there is summer. The sea, the water pressure, a cove in Ibiza. One account claims to have released a
one-metre sausage in the water and broken it with an harpoon, including a neighbour's complaint about floating pieces. The anecdote is so specific that it is impossible to verify, but it explains why these types of confessions only emerge in certain places.
The Blockage at the UN Office in Vienna
Among the testimonies is one that borders on diplomatic absurdity: a full week without evacuating, summer 1999, and the call of nature at the United Nations headquarters in Vienna. Spotless toilets, no one around, and a decision: to leave the problem there. The author laments not having immortalised it, as mobile phones did not have cameras then.
The episode serves to illustrate a constant: the body does not negotiate with protocols. It makes no difference whether it is the building, the country, or the agenda.
From Anecdote to Political Conflict
From a certain point, the collection stops being a catalogue and becomes a battleground. One voice introduces the argument that discussing excrement in a public space is
an appropriation of the common space and links it to machismo. Another responds that digestive health is also a matter of importance. The discussion shifts to public healthcare, the Prime Minister, and whether laughing at certain things reinforces or undermines specific behaviours.
The level of conversation plummets as soon as politics enters. Some compare a vote to a bowel movement. Others call for moderation. And some respond that the problem is not talking about faeces, but the context and intent behind it.
The Measurable Data
Beyond politics, the material leaves a handful of comparable figures, all self-declared and none verified by third parties:
- 70 centimetres and four flushes plus half a roll of paper: the initial record.
- 30 centimetres long and 8.5 wide, with bleeding, according to another testimony.
- 25 centimetres and 356 grams, described as smooth, in one piece, and wenge-coloured.
- One metre in the water, broken by an harpoon.
- Nine metres: the absolute record, although its author refers to a tapeworm, not a bowel movement.
The comparison is tricky: a tapeworm is not faeces, it is a parasite. But in this terrain, no one is going to demand taxonomic rigour.
In the end, the conversation remains where it started: measuring. Without consensus on what constitutes a legitimate record, without verification methods, and without anyone proposing to create an official category. The only conclusion that holds is that of the initial message's author:
you are great.