UFC 247: Jones vs. Reyes

Derrick Lewis   vs.   Ilir Latifi 


Sometimes, I simply do not poo.


This isn't the same phenomenon mind you, as not being able to poo. I simply mean that the whims of the bowel are fickle. Occasionally there's just some kind of rhythmical gun-jumping  that results in my walking into the lavatory, assuming the position, loading up candy crush and simply wasting my time. I don't understand why this happens. I regard it as one of the great mysteries, like the Tao. Right up there with bio-luminescent Fungi and the voynich manuscript. For whatever reason, the turd fairy at the wheel of the bus has simply chosen to drive on by my stop.


I'll check, too. Nope. Not even a solitary rabbit pebble, a cocopop. All that's given back in the stillness of the water is my own face, furrowed in deep ponderence. I wonder why that's happened, then....


I look to the toilet itself, like a man feeding the birds and hoping for something in return. It's no help. It seems to simply shrug, turn up its palms and go on chewing gum, like a hooker in a state of maintained pragmatism that is not quite sympathy nor exasperation who thinks she might not get paid because you turned up soused and couldn't get hard, and seems to say:


 'Listen Hun, I don't know what to tell you. It hasn't happened, and it isn't going to happen. I held up my end, you couldn't hold up yours. You came to me. I was ready to deliver, you couldn't. I dunno. I'm not sure what to say, but I think you should leave. I've got other clients and the way I see it, there's just no reason for us to be in a room together anymore'.


I was going to pick Lewis, and then I didn't, but I also have no intention of picking Latifi. I can't pick either in the way that sometimes, I simply do not poo.

* Edited at 01.31.2020, 5:29 AM ET *