I suppose you do now have a moral advantage over him forevermore, but that's the only upside I can see from the whole ghastly business.
Did I ever mention the time a girl messaged me on an online dating site telling me that we knew each other as children (our parents were mutual friends) and whether I'd like to meet up, and all I could remember about her was that she'd once taken a shít in my paddling pool in our family garden?
Quite pretty, but fat. You know the type.
I actually went to her dad's funeral about a year ago. We exchanged some warm words but spoke neither of the online dating nor the shítting in a paddling pool, which I felt was a shame as either topic could have lightened the frankly depressing mood around the place.
This whole sordid tale is classic Monty in that it bears little scrutiny before suspicions of its veracity arise.
Far more likely the fellow simply knocked at the door to borrow a cup of sugar before Monty insisted he come in for a coffee. When the fellow asked if he could use the facilities, his stomach afflicted by the foul cheap coffee, Monty made use of his recently crafted spying orifice behind the toilet seat.