The recipient of the thermometer has already moved into the position she was ordered to adopt, usually on all fours, with her knickers pulled down to her knees and her bare buttocks stretched upwards. As I stand next to her, the already greased thermometer in one hand, the other hand resting gently but possessively on her buttocks, I demand that she push her back through a little bit more.
"I want your cheeks to gape apart so that I can get a good look at your backside. Surely you don't want me to do anything wrong because of your shyness, do you?" -- "Go on, you can do better than that. Be a bit more cooperative, otherwise I'll have to fetch the hairbrush later." -- “Good, and now you're going to push as if you're having a bowel movement on the toilet. Yes, you heard right: pushing! Your anus should open up, so that I can insert the thermometer more easily." -- "Stop moaning, you don't have to be embarrassed... even if something might come out that could be unpleasant for you. We'll deal with that later."
And finally, towards the end of the measurement, when the thermometer is slowly pulled out of her bowel and there are telltale traces on its tip:
"Your temperature is slightly high, we don't need to worry about that, we can treat it with a suppository. But look... yes, look, it won't do you any good if you turn your head away now... Could it be that you are suffering from constipation? No? Yes?! We need to get to the bottom of this..."