Turd tales!
Whilst on holiday in Wales, I trod on a huge cow poo. What made it worse, from my point of view (but not of my dad's and my brother's, who both found it hilarious), was that I trod on it on purpose, thinking it was a stone. It had crusted over and looked very dry and solid, but inside it was still green and brown and runny.

My brother once fell asleep on his front, with no clothes on (as little kids do), and pooed in his sleep. It went upwards in a sort of spiral.

When in holiday in New York, I ate no fruit for the five days I was there. The trip was arranged by the school, and we ate out for all our meals, including breakfast, and so we had none of the bog-standard stuff I normally eat. I normally quaff fruit like a gorilla (you're supposed to eat five portions of fruit and veg a day, but I eat between seven and fifteen), and as a result am very regular (two or three times daily). My body didn't like this shock to my system, so I was constipated and didn't poo for three days. When I did, it was nearly as thick as a coke can, and as long as my forearm. It was also very dry and took a great deal of effort to egest. I felt about half a stone lighter once it was finally out.

I once had the squits so badly when I was little that I farted and a chocolate sauce-like splat came out.

I once did green poo.

Once I tried so hard to fart that a little bit of shit came out. Bleurrgghh.

Needing a poo in the middle of the night but being only little and so very disoriented with tiredness, I somehow missed the toilet bowl. It still baffles me as to how the smeg I actually did that. I had to wake up my mother and get her to clean it up. She was not happy.

Even though I was perfectly continent, I chose to wear nappies until I was three, because I found pooing in a nappy more fun (ahah, it was a childhood fetish) than pooing in a potty or in the toilet. Eventually I stopped because my mother was getting sick of changing nappies on a child who didn't need them (and who was old enough to do really gross poos as opposed to the little yellow ones that babies do).

My brother got pooed on by a female moth once. And by a mouse.

I used to have a rat who I let run around in my hair (it was down to my shoulders then). When brushing my hair, my mother found a dried-up rat poo tangled up in it.

When holidaying in France, we found rat poo baked right into the supermarket bread. We bought all our bread elsewhere thereafter.
( Bob Todd whee, Thu 6 May 2004, 17:33, Reply)