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The American Incident
About 3 years ago I took a trip to America with 2 friends of mine, who are married.

The first week in LA passed without any major incident happening and we set off to stay with my mates mum and stepdad in Florida for the 2nd week.
His mum was English and his stepdad was a brash, ex airforce, Texan (and a bit of a cunt)
The apartment had 2 bedrooms - theirs, and the one that my mate and his missus were staying in. Both were en-suite, with my mates bathroom also being accessible from the lounge (where i was sleeping).

Enter me and my mate, back from the local bar on the 2nd night of staying in the apartment, bladdered and ready to kip. After about an hour I felt the sudden urge to chunder my guts up, and dashed into the loo.
As my vomit exploded, half of it missed the bowl and i spent 25 mins pissed on the toilet floor mopping up with bog paper.
Chuffed at my clean-up job, and the fact I hadn't woken my mate, I flushed it all down.

To my horror the giant pukey wad disappeared but the water began to rise in the bowl.
No problem, I thought, back in the UK the water will rise just below the rim and then stop.
However, I failed to realise that this toilet operated in some sort of bizarre syphon system so that if the water level does not return to normal in the bowl then the water just keeps pissing out.

So now I'm standing in about 1/4 inch of water, and shitting myself, with water gushing over the rim constantly like the Mount Vesuvius of crappers.

I end up waking my mate, who runs in (crazy frog style - dingle dangle) and manages to stop the water by hooking something in the cistern. We then proceed to clear the blockage with a wire coathanger, and mop up the soaked carpet with the bath towels.

Unfortunately, water had seeped into the lounge carpet and there was a huge soggy patch by the door. His stepdad, who didn't have much time for me anyway, was utterly fucked off about it all, and I was sheepish for the rest of the trip.
(Fri 2nd Sep 2005, 12:51, More)