What a colonic pain in the arse.

Our plan on Bali was to do a full-on, 6-day detox. Each day we would have a colonic hydrotherapy session and by the end of the six days we would be fresh, clean and sweet-smelling. so how did it go?

Well on day one we arrived, somewhat apprehensively, at a lovely spa with a jungly garden. We were promptly ushered through to separate changing rooms and asked to change into sarongs. Parted from our clothes, feeling rather vulnerable, we were led to a treatment room with two beds and told to strip and face down. Duncan and I have got to know each other very well over the last few months but a double colonic might be taking things a little too far. When the therapist asked what pressure we would like we started to get really worried until we realised with some relief and some disappointment that they had mistaken us for massage clients.

Reluctantly we had to highlight their error which caused much hilarity. Thank god someone was laughing. So we were escorted out of the pleasure boudoir and into the rather more clinical rectal hose chamber, or AHC, as we'll call it. The alarmingly charming nurse, Yani, was obviously used to nervous clients so she sat us down and went through all the basics.

Yes, it was a six-day treatment. Yes, they would provide us with vitamen and fibre supplements. No, we didn't have to fast (yeah!!); we could drink as much fresh vegetable juice as we wanted (oh). We had to ensure we were drinking 3-4 litres of water per day and we should be aware that we might become emotional and irritable. Wow. The next week was going to be such a barrel of laughs.

Having heard all this and having already paid up, Duncan stepped outside while I stepped up to the mark. I lay down on the raised platform and thought of Britain. I'm not going to go into too much detail but essentially water goes in, swills around a bit, and then comes out. This happens about ten times in the space of half an hour and yes, you do see it as it comes out and no, it doesn't smell. Everything is performed by a sealed machine.

So I lay and the nurse sat and we discussed the weather, our holiday, pet gripes. It was just like being at the hairdresser's, except with a tube up the anus. She regaled me with stories of past clients and told me how well I was doing, as bits undigested tomato skin ('you must chew more'), mucus ('you have infection?') and other 'stuff' sailed past.

Duncan churned out similar crap, as it were, along with 'loads of gas'. Yes, well we all know about that. At least this time it was into a machine rather than the atmosphere. One session down. We headed back to the hotel, comparing notes, still in high spirits. After an afternoon of a lot of water with a dinner of four tablets, we rattled to bed.

The following day we were feeling reasonably spritely, considering. We even found the energy for a game of tennis! Heading towards the spa we felt like Hollywood celebs getting on one of the many faddy detox bandwagons - 'just off for my morning colonic, darling. Yes, only on liquids at the moment, sweetie.' However it's not a fad and the number of health benefits are endless, as Yani cheerfully informed me on day two. Apart from the obvious one, that old, undigested food stuck in the colon would be flushed out (apologies for graphics), helping prevent cancer, but many people came with complaints of recurring headaches, eczema, blocked sinus, obesity and depression, which the hydrotherapy went on to cure or at least relieve.

Anyway, back to the AHC where I was apparently still doing incredibly well, producing more mucus, a bit of gas and, rather disturbingly, large chunks of red meat. 'Cannot digest!' The most disturbing thing, however, was a long, stringy, orange thing. 'Parasite.' WHAT?? 'Yes! Very long, maybe 1 metre.' It was all tangled up but that thing was a worm which had been there 'for a few days', which was probably from 'unwashed salad or maybe something else' [unspecified]. Not content with this my bowels produced two more. That is it! No more caution to the wind with unwashed food.

Duncan's movements were a little more reserved than mine: he was still producing a lot of gas, which can surprise no one. We headed back to the hotel, rewarded ourselves with a carrot juice which we savoured over the course of hours, and passed out.

Day three brought more of the same along with quite a lot of the ominous sounding 'old stuff', which had apparently been there 'maybe 2 or 3 years'. Two more large chunks of steak and bits and bobs later and I was done. I was really getting into the swing of things and was beginning to enjoy these sessions. Yani was like an entertaining commentator on a live documentary about my own insides. It was like the last round of the Generation Game every day. 'And on the conveyor belt to night, ladies and gentlemen, a piece of mucus; some old stuff; some even older stuff; some steak; a long parasite' etc. I half expected Yani to jump out of her seat and exclaim, 'a cuddly bear!'

That day we had to check out of our hotel and into another. Agonisingly, our parting gift from them was two freshly baked brownies. They smelt divine; they looked divine and they were just so verboten. Like newborn babies we cradled them into our new room and spent the rest of the day with our noses firmly fixed to the perfume. We were beginning to feel the strain of not eating. Not through hunger pains but we were both steadily becoming more crotchety. That evening I threw all my toys out of the pram as I wanted a crumb of brownie and Duncan wouldn't let me. I bet he was a right goodie two shoes at school. But then so was I. But now I'm an adult and can do what I want. And if I want a crumb of brownie while on this detox, I will. And I did. It was the size of this full stop. And I felt terrible.

Day four. Judgement day. According to our research this was the day when all hell would quite literally break lose. I went in first. As if to herald this momentous occasion, there was an additional nurse. Perhaps she was to provide emotional or even physical support. I settled down into the hot seat and we got going.

Out came the usual stuff and then a load of gas before along came another parasite. I was becoming quite fond of the little worms until Yani commented that this one appeared to be a few year's old. Bless. The poor thing had probably made himself a comfortable nest just to be flooded out when the rains came. More old stuff, dark, hard nuggets coated in orange fluff floated by before the piece de resistance reared its ugly head. I don't mean that I had at some point in my past swallowed something dating back from Vichy's France, of course; no, this was more red meat. But not just any red meat. This was 'maybe 5 or 6 year's old'. Yes folks, that steak that I undoubtedly ate red raw and washed every bite down with a generous portion of green peppercorn sauce and shiraz, that steak went into my body in 2004.

By this time Duncan and I were becoming quite competitive about our excretions but in terms of volume and variety I was winning hands down. Duncan really was producing a lot of gas but no steak yet.

On day five it rained. Technically this was unusual for Ubud as it is dry season but it was becoming somewhat predictable for us. We'd been in Ubud for almost a week and it had pissed it down for most of it. So after our uneventful fifth sessions we decided to call it a day at that spa and head down south to drier climes. As we descended the gentle slopes away from Ubud, we left behind the grey clouds and quite a lot of unwanted 'old stuff'.

We checked into our new and rather lovely hotel (thank you work) and set about finding a spa for our last day's treatment the following day, day six. Having made our appointments in a nearby clinic we settled into the job of topping up the long since abandoned tans. If we were going to be skinny, we wanted to be tanned too.

Having decided that on day six we would break the fast, I spent most of day five salivating and by evening just couldn't see the day out without solid food passing between my lips. So we tempted fate and went down to the restaurant. Duncan ordered a juice and I supped on a fresh coconut water. But I just don't have the willpower that he has and I caved in to have a salad. After much discussion with the waiter, the green salad arrived at the table, looking rather lonely on a large table with only a coconut and a juice to keep it company. Little did it know that to me he was a big, fat, juicy steak with green peppercorn sauce dribbling down the side. Each mouthful was savoured and meticulously chewed. Seldom has a salad been so carefully or labouriously consumed. I went to bed with a lick of the chops and a smile on my face.

Day six. This is the day we have been waiting for. The end is nigh. We were greeted at the new spa with questions about our health and we were quizzed over our motives for the treatment. We reassured them that we were old hands and au fait with the system and that we would be gracing their clinic with the honour of our final day's colonic. Mine passed off without incident and I dutifully waited outside for Duncan. And I waited. And waited. Half and hour, three quarters of an hour, an hour. My god! A whole hour had passed. I was getting worried and was about to knock on the door when, just shy of an hour and quarter, Duncan emerged looking triumphant if a little sheepish.

'What on earth happened?' 'Everything happened.' It seems that five days of the equivalent of soaking dishes overnight had finally loosened the junk in Duncan's inside and hell did break lose. 'It just kept coming so I decided to keep going.' Duncan had a marathon hour long session before the nurse had to prize him away from the equipment.

'Next year.' 'What?' 'Next year I'm doing it again.' Oh no. Visions of marathon promises not kept ('I'll never do it again' etc.). Well at least this one really is doing us good. We got home and stepped on the scales. Duncan, as we all know, doesn't have much weight to lose but he still managed about 1.5 stone. I was carrying a bit of extra weight from Central Asia and shifted about a stone. Do we feel glowing inside and out? Well yes but whether that is psychosomatic or not I don't know. What I will tell you is that we got home and pigged out on..well..we had a passion fruit and a mangosteen. Oh and then we had a few walnuts and some watermelon. And then we felt really full and had to have a lie down. Later we managed two soups, a salad and some grilled mushroom. What a feast.

All in all it was a great experience. I'd recommend it to anyone but do remember. You'll never look at a steak in the same way again.