Mitch McConnell has spent 63 years in public life. He has also spent 63 years storing his urine in mason jars, which he now claims is a world record. Guinness World Records has refused to verify it. The adjudicator, Nigel Pemberton, says the claim fails on technical grounds. McConnell’s office has called the decision ‘a partisan attack on American bodily autonomy.’ Pemberton, who has not slept in 22 years, says he has seen worse.

The claim is lodged

On Tuesday, McConnell’s chief of staff, a man named Gerald Whitfield, hand-delivered a 47-page dossier to Guinness’s London office. It included photographs of 1,847 jars, a spreadsheet of dates and volumes, and a signed note from McConnell’s urologist confirming ‘exceptional renal output.’ Pemberton read the dossier in silence, then asked one question: ‘Is this a single continuous specimen or a series?’ Whitfield said it was a series. Pemberton wrote ‘Denied’ in red ink and handed it back. Whitfield said the decision was ‘typical of European elitism.’

“The patient presents with a collection of urine. The prognosis is poor. I have been monitoring this case from a distance, and I know exactly how many jars there are. I have counted them. Twice.” said Dr Bill Bornfrom, Chief Medical & Lifestyle Columnist at GraveNews.

The appeal and the janitor

McConnell’s office filed an appeal, citing a 1974 janitor, Earl Tuttle, who swore he had seen the jars ‘stacked like a cathedral’ in the basement of the Old Senate Office Building. Tuttle, now 91 and living in a care home in Frankfort, Kentucky, gave a videotaped deposition in which he described the jars as ‘a wonder to behold, but the smell was something else.’ Pemberton watched the tape twice. He then sent a three-word reply: ‘Insufficient corroboration.’ Tuttle, when told of the rejection, said he was ‘not surprised, they never believe the help.’

“The man claims a witness for forty years of collection, and the witness is a janitor. I have been a janitor. I know what janitors see. They see everything. They are the eyes of the building, and they are never believed. I believe him. But I am not the adjudicator.” said Dr Bill Bornfrom, who has never been a janitor but has been in the walls.

A fresh sample is demanded

Pemberton, in a rare concession, agreed to accept a fresh sample. McConnell provided it during a filibuster on the Senate floor, filling a thermos in full view of the chamber. The sample was flown to London by diplomatic courier. Pemberton examined it under a microscope and found carpet fibres. He ruled it contaminated. McConnell’s spokesman, a man named James Hollis, said the fibres were ‘a badge of honour, proof of my boss’s commitment to the Senate.’ Pemberton responded with a statement: ‘The record stands empty. The jars stand empty. The man stands empty.’

“I have seen carpet fibres before. They are not a badge of honour. They are a contamination. The patient should have walked briskly to the bathroom. He did not. He will not. He never does.” said Dr Bill Bornfrom, prescribing a brisk walk to Washington, D.C., and a reduction in egg intake.

The collection goes public

On Wednesday, McConnell announced that the collection would be donated to the Smithsonian Institution, where it will be displayed in a new wing titled ‘An American Legacy.’ The jars will be arranged chronologically, with a plaque reading ‘In recognition of a lifetime of service.’ Pemberton, meanwhile, has opened his own exhibition in Slough, featuring 1,847 empty jars, each labelled ‘This could have been a record.’ He has called it ‘The True Record.’ He has not slept. He will not sleep. He is watching, as always.

“I have not slept in 22 years. I have seen every claim, every specimen, every excuse. I have seen worse. I have seen a man with a jar of his own tears, and I denied him too. The record stands empty because the record is empty. The man is empty. The jars are empty. I am empty. But I am watching.” said Nigel Pemberton, Guinness adjudicator, from his exhibition of empty jars.

You have a collection of urine. Of course you do. You have been holding it in for years, storing it in jars, and being yourself, which is three risk factors before breakfast. Sit still. No, stiller. This week you will:

  • Walk briskly to the coast. Any coast. Do not stop. Do not drink.
  • Reduce your egg intake to zero, then lower.
  • Sleep for nine hours, starting at a time of your choosing, which will be wrong.
  • Apologise to your mother. She knows about the jars.

If the collection persists, that is your own fault, and I will know. I always know. I am in the walls, medically speaking.