Wherever I go there's always poo
On a recent drive across a third of the world for charitable purposes I found myself in the middle of Western Mongolia with a little bit of a dodgy stomach - all the mutton and noodles we'd been living on for 30 or so days were taking their toll.

Halfway across what can only be described as a sand luge, I had to get my co-driver to stop the car as my stomach was cramping so badly I thought I was going to pass out in the not-very-comfortable heap of junk we were driving. In a matter of minutes I was on my hands and knees behind the car trying not to screech with the pain, praying the rest of the convoy would fuck off and leave me to writhe in agony.

I managed to swallow a couple of co-codamol and get back into the car. We set off again, me pale and sweating. About two minutes later we passed the only bit of vegetation I'd seen all day. I knew that was my only chance. I leapt out of the car, grabbed the shovel from the roofrack and legged it to a patchy bush about 10 metres back. I barely managed to position myself before my ass essentially exploded. It wasn't pleasant, and was probably even worse for the marmot whose burrow I had just filled with shit.

I got back to the car feeling somewhat better... only to discover my co-driver - a bloke who I had only just met a couple of weeks before - had been happily watching the whole thing in the rear view mirror.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Sat 13 Oct 2007, 19:05, Reply)