"At a guess it came after a nasty vindaloo"
Here I was thinking a kebab. Oh, it's a meter long! Ouch!
A colossal dinosaur poo is about to go to under the hammer. Auction house I.M. Chait has listed what it describes as an “Enormous and rare coprolite” said to measure 40 inches - 101.6cm - from end to end. The object is believed to have been the result of a meal consumed during the Miocene-Oligocene epoch, some 23 million years …
Well if my calipers are correct the ratio of length to max diameter is about 15.771 so going with 7.257 linguini (40") long that makes the max diameter 0.460 linguini (2.536") which gives, assuming a circular section, a girth of 1.446 linguini (7.968"). For comparison a typical credit card is 0.3855 by 0.6123 linguini and a US note is 0.4735 by 1.114 linguini.
During the 19th century there was a significant coprolite mining industry in (mainly) Cambridgeshire and Suffolk, to provide phosphate for fertiliser. The discovery of guano islands killed it off, but it was revived for munitions during WW1.
Maybe they'll buy one of mine.
The other week, you know, I'd been holding off, and holding off (like you do) to the point where I was suffering from turtle's head, and then I gave in and tottered off to the trap. And it was probably the prescription co-codamol that I'd taken, along with beer and a lot of barbecued meat, but it was like squeezing out a cabbage. I called from the cubicle for a midwife, because it seemed that only a midwife would have the necessary skills to help, but there was no response. After an age of fevered laboring without pain relief or professional assistance, I finally launched not merely a fearsome dreadnought, but more like the entire Grand Fleet, all well formed, stiff, and of immense girth. Piled up glistening above the water they were. Had I been able to gently lay it like cable, moving very slowly along to avoid tensile stress breaking the log (and hopefully controlling the cigar cutter reflex), I'm sure I'd have easily got more than the puny 40 incher that this dino cropped off.
And then, not realising the vast monetary value of finely formed faeces, I flushed this work of art to oblivion*. In terms of monetary and artistic loss that flush must rank with the day when the Momart warehouse went up in smoke. In fact, the flush was far worse, because Momart only contained crap like Tracey Emin's sex tent,and stuff owned by Charles Saatchi.
In view of this exciting news, I shall taking to laying my dogs eggs on sheets of A1 craft paper in future, sun dry them, and then take them along to I.M.Chait to discuss terms.
* Well, the bogs at work have crappy syphonic flushes, and I tried to flush it to oblivion, but in fact left a sizeable residue for subsequent visitors to marvel at. I can be sure, though, that the article being auctioned here is of the wrong colour and inadequate girth to indicate that anyone recognised the value and fished it out.