I once did a Prap (portmanteau swearing of Poo + Crap) in my Trants (portmanteau swearing of Trousers + Pants)
So I cliped (portmanteau swearing of Cleaned + Wiped) my shirty (portmanteau swearing of Shitty + Dirty) Barse (a barse).
Alright?
( Two Hats 🎩🎩, Wed 24 Jun 2015, 15:40, 25 replies)

Look at this face
I know the years are showing
Look at this life
I still don't know where it's going

I don't know much
But I know I love you
And that may be all I need to know

Look at these eyes
They've never seen what mattered
Look at these dreams
So beat and so battered

I don't know much
But I know I love you
That may be all I need to know

So many questions still left unanswered
So much I've never broken through

And when I feel you near me
Sometimes I see so clearly
The only truth I've ever known is me and you

Look at this man
So blessed with inspiration
Look at this soul
Still searching for salvation

I don't know much
But I know I love you
And that may be all I need to know

I don't know much
But I know I love you
That may be all I need to know

I don't know much
But I know I love you
That may be all there is to know
( Two Hats 🎩🎩, Wed 24 Jun 2015, 15:16, 7 replies)

This story is well lol even if you think it isn't
I have a mate who is a liability, lets call him Alan. Growing up he used to do daft stuff like running over the top of peoples cars and stuff like that. He would always get caught and bollocked for it too. He hasn't changed much.
One night we were walking home escorting some young ladies back from the pub to an after pub party at my house. Alan saw two massive blokes walking up the other side of the road and thought he would offer them a chip. When they replied to the negative my dear friend thought it would be best to help them change their mind by throwing chips at them. We dragged him away but they followed us home and after some strong words they decided the best thing to do was to kick my front door in.
The police were called and came out they asked who got the best look at them and one of my other mates replied that he had and off he went in the police car to see if he could find them. The rest of us sat down with the other policeman and some of us gave statements. Shortly afterwards we realised Alan wasn't in the house, very shortly afterwards it came through on the radio that they had found them. All three of them and arrested them. Alan had gone in to the kitchen and nicked a carving knife and was found outside a supermarket holding them at knifepoint. He tried to explain to the police that he just didn't want them to get away and was helping them out. They of course bought it and gave him one of those hero medals? No, he spent the night in the cells and was let off with a caution for possession of a bladed article the next morning (luckily). The two guys went to court and had to pay compensation to the tune of about a third of what it cost to replace the door and frame. Thats why we have insurance apparently.

Months later I received an unexpected delivery. The police sent me the knife back.

Oh yeh and it made me shit my pants!
( Peej, Wed 24 Jun 2015, 12:07, 6 replies)

Boon
Boon - episode 13 - 'Full Circle'

Cast: Alan Tilvern [ Leon Karadia ], Hilary Townley [ Laura Karadia ], Joss Buckley [ James Karadia ], Geoffrey Hinsliff [ Station Officer Earnshaw ], Norman Jones [ DI Pierce ], Michael Elphick [Mr Boon], Dave Atkins [ Ben Gibbs ], Martin Wimbush [ Harris ], Tip Tipping [ Arsonist ], Christopher Holroyd [ Ambulance Man ]

The Karadia brothers run a carpet factory which has suffered more than its fair share of fires. The police, fire brigade and insurance company suspect arson. One of the carpets which is destroyed in the latest fire belongs to Harry - he has ordered it for The Grand and is worried because he has over-estimated its value on his insurance claim. Ken follows the suspected arsonist to a new hotel that Harry is about to buy and catches him in the act of setting a fire. Both Ken and the arsonist narrowly escape with their lives.
(Andrew Avetoom, Wed 24 Jun 2015, 9:52, 2 replies)

GuildfordTrain Station
Suited and booted on the train travelling from Clapham to Guildford to attend a job interview after graduating from University. Huge turd attack occurs. Im still about 30mins away from destination. For some reason all the toilets on the train are either occupied for the entirerity of the journey or locked as they are out of order. The turd attack becomes so bad that I begin to perspire profusely. The only thing stopping me crapping my pants is me pacing up and down the carriage, clenching my cheeks, beads of sweat running down my forehead. After what seems to be an eternity the train finally pulls into Guilford Station. I barge my way past the other commuters and doors and sprint to the platform toilet. My arse does not get a chance to touch the porcelain before the huge torrents of turd are violently ejected from my rectum. The relief is ecstatic. I take a few moments, relax to gather my thoughts then decide it time to clean up and head on. I look round. No bog roll. I had never been in this situation before so I had to improvise. With only the clothes on my body i decided to take off my socks and wipe my ass with my socks. I needed to use both socks. Feeling quite proud of my improvisation, shortly after leaving the cubicle I realised my error because my suit trousers were of the ankle swinger variety, hence i was fully suited up with a shirt and tie, lovely black brogues and no socks with visible bare ankles. Being a male of the dark skinned variety this was quite obvious and needless to say when I sat in front of the interview panel they gave me quite a strange look. I didnt get the job.
(CaptainFellatioNelson is trying to kill me, Wed 24 Jun 2015, 6:20, 8 replies)

Everytime I come across an aging punk talking of sticking it to the man
and I know he has to head home to the wife, kids and mortgage,

I shit myself in glee.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Wed 24 Jun 2015, 2:04, 6 replies)

We saw.....
....Jeremy Clarkson & James May at Heathrow Terminal 2 this weekend. He didn't punch anyone and nothing funny happened.

Which was quite funny really.
( The Lone Groover has mal des nuts., Tue 23 Jun 2015, 20:51, 2 replies)

This shit is bananas B A N A N A S

(yo man river INVINCIBLE, Tue 23 Jun 2015, 15:59, 1 reply)

I once saw Alexei Sayle in the northbound car park of Keele Services on the M6.
Maybe he'd stopped there to do a poo, lol!
( brb Learn Ukrainian and prepare for a referendum, Tue 23 Jun 2015, 14:43, Reply)

Why do fools fall in love
Why do birds sing so gay
And lovers await the break of day
Why do they fall in love
Why does the rain
Fall from up above
Why do fools fall in love
Why do they fall in love

Love is a losing game
Love can be a shame
I know of a fool you see
For that fool is me
Tell my why
Tell me why

Why do birds sing so gay
And lovers await the break of day
Why do they fall in love
Why does the rain
Fall from up above
Why do fools fall in love
Why do they fall in love

Why does my heart skip a crazy beat
For I know
It will reach defeat
Tell me why
Tell my why
Why do fools fall in love
( Two Hats 🎩🎩, Tue 23 Jun 2015, 13:06, 11 replies)

John
John was a fellow i used to know in work. Nice chap. but suffered from being a bit round. When i say a bit round, he was very fat, and pretty much circular from every angle. One of those fat people whose fat seems to be immune to gravity and holds onto the waste.

Anyway - like i said nice chap, but probably because of effects of school, very timid, shy etc. Didn't have much of a voice. As a result, he held an air of awkwardness in conversation. What would normally be easy to talk to someone else would be difficult with John as he didnt seem to have a close rapport with anyone.

One day Me and another colleague were sitting at our desk, I was taking a Barrocca and offering to my mate, when John walked by... Naturally as i had just offered my mate one, I now felt obliged to ask John he he wanted a Barrocca too.

John being as nice as he is, accepted my offer, picked a tablet out of the tube and promptly put it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed it.

Me and my mate froze in stunned silence... seconds ticked by... but we didnt raise our concerns to him - more out of shock than anything.

Anyone else at this point would be a throthing mess, but not john. He quietly walked back to his desk, whilst me and my mate slowly turned to each other realising it was now to late to tell John what Barrocca's were.

An hour later we found him in the toilet wimpering whilst voilently shitting in a cubicle.

poor sod. Really couldnt have happened to a nicer guy.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Tue 23 Jun 2015, 10:28, 12 replies)

The only shit thing here is the story
I've lurked on here for fucking yonks, but to begin with I thought I'd better hold off registering until I had a copy of Photoshop so I could make The Next Big Thing.

Time passed, and I witnessed Hulk Hogan destroying the Twin Towers and the Navy SEAL's lucky escape from the Frisco Bay shark, hoping one day to wow the b3ta family with my skills.

Then one day, I finally had enough money to buy Photoshop. I installed the software, opened it up, and learned pretty rapidly that I was about as good at using it as my mum is at riding a skateboard...

Never mind, I thought, practice makes perfect. Except several years down the line, I've resigned myself to the fact that it doesn't. 10,000 hours to be an expert, my arse!

So imagine my delight in discovering an Image Challenge that didn't even require me to use Photoshop. And my delight turned to near ecstacy when I spotted that I could used the QOTW to tell my hilarious tale of b3ta redemption.

But I hadn't reckoned on Newbie Twunting Tuesday!

So now my brilliant 25x25 quilt design idea has been done by someone else before I can post it. At least twice. And far, far better on both counts.

Makes my story pretty lame too...

*Gets coat*
(herbiedumplings L... F... O..., Tue 23 Jun 2015, 10:24, 7 replies)

Holiday poo. Pearoast
# The Summer Holiday Turd
I must have been around 17 at the time, it was my last holiday abroad with my family. We booked a nice 2 week holiday in cala forcat, Menorca. as I was 17 my parents allowed me to invite my best mate Jordan to come along so I had someone to hang out with.

Anyhow as expected we spent most of the time getting plastered and chasing women. Plenty of great stories to tell but the best and most shameful by far was my morning run.

Well it must have been around 6am I was feeling pretty rough from the night before, I'd only had a couple of hours sleep. Being a bit of a fitness junkie at the time I always went for a morning run before breakfast. Normally I'd clock up a good 5 miles regardless of what had happened the previous night. On this perticular morning I decided to run along the coastal road which ran along a rocky clifftop for about 3 miles end to end. this place was pretty much desserted and your rarely saw a single vechile pass alday. I'd only been running for about 10 minutes when this intense urge to shit came over me. So I'm up in the middle of nowhere and about to crap my self. The clifftop was basically completely flat land and i wasn't to comfortable with the idea of shitting there.
Then by chance I noticed a set of steps running down the side of the cliff face, it was like a blessing from god himself at this point. So nipping my ars together I crossed the road and made my decent down the steps looking for a nice spot to dump my load. I made it al the way to the bottom of the steps where I found what I can only describe as a small concrete jetty at sea level which loked like it hadn't been used in years. What a treat, the pressure was off, so i drop my shorts right in the middle of the jetty and produce the largest shit of my life. The smell was rancid even though it was outside, it had a rather smooth glossy finish which can only be achieved through a combination of san migueal larger and kebabs. So i jumped in the sea washed my ars and though i'd better head back for breakfast. I take one final look at my turd perfectly placed in the middle of the concrete jetty, a thing of beauty. so as i made my way back up the steps to the road i hear voices, the fear kicks in. so I continue making my way up then suddenly in front of me is a huge line of people making their way down the steps towards what i thought was a disused jetty. The guy at the front of the line smiles at me and asked if the tourboat had arrived yet, I just looked up at him and muttered "naa, not yet mate".
then I made my way past the rest of the line of people as fast as possible. Many of them giving me a smile or a polite greeting as i pasted there must have been at least 50 people. The jetty was so small they probably wouldn't all fit on it at once. the guilt and shame i felt was so bad i sprinted back to my apartment at record speed. all i could think of was what those people were thinking of me for doing a huge minging shite in the middle of a jetty.

I spend the following days of my holiday in hiding..... nice
(mad_dan Stilton or knob cheese ma'am?, Tue 23 Jun 2015, 3:05, Reply)

I shat myself, and I liked it.
I hope my boyfriend don't mind it.
( MyFrontFellOff ; his mouth full of teddies, urinating defiantly, Mon 22 Jun 2015, 22:48, 4 replies)

I shat myself
We're doing poo stories, yeah?

One day at work, instead of going to the canteen, I went down the road and got an ebola burger and a can of pop. Fifteen minutes later, I was back at my desk, but I felt a rumbling and my tail was twitching.

I stood up. Now I couldn't possibly crap in bog No. 1, so I had to trot over the corridor to the other one. Would I make it in time? I walked awkwardly past bog No. 2, my pace quickening. Some fool was blocking the door in front of me. Hurry up! Overtake him, across the corridor, into bog No. 3, I was practically sprinting at this point.

Once through both doors, my hands were already on my belt. Luckily a cubicle was free. I dashed in, spun round, and yanked my trousers and pants down in one go, unhindered by my belt.

Then "shit happened" as they say. I wasn't even seated at this point.

It went everywhere. In the bog, on the bog, up the wall, across the floor. My pants were a write-off.

Needless to say, the bog roll was those stupid flimsy sheets rather than the real deal you have at home. Wipe wipe, in the bog, lid down, flush. Repeat. At this rate I reckoned I could kind of clean the place up in a couple of hours.

Then the cleaner stuck her head round the outer door and asked whether anyone was in there. I confirmed there was. Damn! I couldn't ask her to come back at 3pm. Now she was waiting outside the door, and she'd know I was the dirty bastard who'd soiled the place.

What was I supposed to do with my pants? I couldn't stick them in my pocket, they were too far gone for that.

I gave up, and chucked them in the corner.

I legged it. That poor woman. I never wore that shirt or tie again in the hope she wouldn't recognise me.

The following day I noticed there was shit on my ID badge.
(Bob the Builder killed Captain Alex, Mon 22 Jun 2015, 22:17, Reply)

Apparently there's a guy who lives near me that likes to vault people's back fences to shit in their garden
the bastard estate agent never mentioned that
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Mon 22 Jun 2015, 14:35, 18 replies)

The phantom logger
I was once temping at a prestigious design agency in London. One day, all the women were summoned into a room wherein we were told that someone in the agency was doing large shits, in the ladies toilet - but not in the pan. These logs were being balanced either on the seat of the toilet or placed in front of the loo, on the floor. This was a large company of around 150 people and there were only two toilets for women and two for men. And this was happening during office hours. It had happened more than once. The very brittle, and hugely uncomfortable, head of HR urged the perpetrator to come forward - either they had something they wanted to say, were deeply unhappy, or needed help. I looked around the place and from what I could work out that could have been any one of the many assembled employees. To this day they never found out who it was. I left shortly afterwards and I expect a few people thought it was me (I hated it there) - I'm sorry to say it wasn't. I wish it had been- they were arseholes.
(allthegoodonesaretaken, Mon 22 Jun 2015, 14:19, 2 replies)

I don't say about internet fanny works.

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Mon 22 Jun 2015, 9:37, 1 reply)

Happened just last night.
My wife and I are in Bangkok for a week before touring other parts of Thailand, and a good friend of ours joined us for a few days. The hotel we're in happens to be a ten minute walk from the red light district, so Ben wanted to go check it out. My wife didn't want to join us, obviously, but after stern warnings to both of us she let me accompany him. (No, neither of us were looking for sex, so we didn't do anything but observe. Calm yourselves.)

There is a place called Nana Plaza which has a load of girly bars in it, among other things. (I wouldn't call them strip clubs because they aren't- the girls are on a stage wearing minimal bikinis or less with a number so you can summon them.) Ben and I were wandering about from one to the other when a tall, pretty girl in a bikini stood, brushed by me and latched onto Ben in what one might call an intimate embrace. I stepped back to give them some space, so I didn't hear what he said to her but after a moment she presented him with her lacy backside. He gave her a slap on the ass and turned away and walked toward me.

She pouted and flounced, then called out "Where you go? Where you goooo?" in a baritone voice.

The look on Ben's face when he realized he had just fondled and been fondled by a ladyboy was priceless.
( Wanderer, Mon 22 Jun 2015, 6:50, 17 replies)

I took a mate ski touring once in canada
after a long day ascending up a valley, we set up the tent in the snow, and got into our sleeping bags for the night. The next morning I awoke to the stink of shit. He'd crapped in his sleeping bag rather than go out into the snow at night, the dirty bugger
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Mon 22 Jun 2015, 2:43, Reply)

Here's a poo story. It starts the night before when I ate a huge pile of fresh strawberries for tea.
Cycling to work next morning, I'd just joined a roundabout with a car close behind me when I felt the need to pass wind. I stood up on the pedals a bit as you do and discreetly let rip.

However, instead of a ladylike fart I felt a sudden torrent of hot shit.

As the car was still following I decided to continue round the roundabout and head back home, trusting that nobody had seen my performance.

No such luck. The car followed me all the way home, where I found that the mess had shot right up my back, almost to my shoulders, staining my fancy hi-viz cycling shirt a striking shade of brown. It must've looked like a volcano going off to that driver. I bet they were WELL amused.

I still had to clean myself up and ring my boss with a story about why I was late and then set off again, timidly this time, pedalling very gently, listening hard for any rumblings.

I still like strawberries.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Sat 20 Jun 2015, 23:28, 2 replies)

pearoast
For about 6 months after I finished uni I worked in a towbar factory and one of the few pleasures I had while working there involved walking through the workshop where the towbars were welded to fetch boxes to pack the finished bars in.

Because of the amount of noise created by a dozen or so men busily welding I was free to drop my guts as loudly as I liked on my way through only to pause on my way back while everyone was standing around accusing each other of releasing such an offensive odour to register my disgust and enquire "which one of you filthy gypos did that?"

However thiss is probably not relavent to this weeks question as no matter how hard I strained I never shit mysleft
( Reme Philips laid an epic dump on, Sat 20 Jun 2015, 23:09, Reply)

I'm always posting this!
Pearoast: a bit long, but this one still cracks me up years after the old bag's probably popped her clogs.

I had a job where I had to do home visits and do jobs for clients. One old cow used to watch for my car to arrive and then complain to my boss - before I'd even parked - if I had anyone in the car with me. Obviously my time was all hers and I wasn't allowed to give my mum a lift.

I used to have to cash her pension and do some shopping - incontinence pants, haemorrhoid cream and so on - for which I took care to collect itemised receipts, which she would carefully scrutinise for fraud.

All in all she was a hateful old witch, always looking for a way to do me over.

One day I went for the pension as usual and was told that there was a new pension book.

The Post Office clerk said 'I'll have to tear up the old book in case of fraud', while looking meaningfully at me. I swear the old bag had rung ahead to warn the Post Office of the Famous Embezzling Home Help.

So... the snobby clerk then flourished in my face, and ripped in half, the NEW pension book.

The look on her face was priceless - she realised what she was doing just too late to stop herself.

I immediately collapsed into helpless laughter and pointed at her and gasped 'You ripped up the new book! You ripped up the new book!'

The clerk answered 'It's not funny!' but as I assured her, oh, it was, very funny indeed.

She wanted to keep the new ripped-up book until the next week when the replacement came, but I refused on the grounds that Mrs Hagwitch would accuse me of stealing it. The boss was called and she and I stood over the clerk as she taped up every page. Then she had to write a letter of explanation and apology.

I screamed with laughter all the way back, trying to get it out of my system, and really did think I'd kept a straight face when explaining the incident to the old boiler.

Must've let something slip as she was soon on the blower to my boss, complaining that I had laughed at her pension book.

I wasn't in trouble though as everyone in the office was hysterical too. Happy days!
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Sat 20 Jun 2015, 23:04, Reply)

Trap 3
I was at an event some years ago in a leisure centre. The public toilets in the leisure centre were shared between us and the normal users of the gym facilities.

Early on the Saturday morning one of our co-exhibitors wandered over to us, a little befuddled and pale faced and said, roughly - avoid trap three in the bogs.

Over the course of the day trap three became a place of wonder, astonishment and repugnance, something between the Grand Canyon and the Elephant Man.

The pan contained the biggest turd I've ever seen in my life. This isn't a fisherman's tale - it was like a bent oak branch, maybe 18x10" or thereabouts. There were no cleaners on duty and the monster turd remained throughout the day, as a monument to...

It's not really funny but it continues the theme.
( The Disappointed Caravanner of the year, Sat 20 Jun 2015, 19:03, Reply)

Something Something PAULA RADCLIFFE.

( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Sat 20 Jun 2015, 17:04, 2 replies)

As an ex-professional cyclist I have pooed, scooped and 111 many times. cheers

( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Sat 20 Jun 2015, 11:49, 2 replies)

Very funny story
Broke up with my "Queen of The Harpies" gf - "Painya" (you know that 1 truly fucked up relationship you have to have to understand that it was a truly fucked relationship) and the small group of (male) friends who chose her over me including my ex-business partner Dick (couple even fucked her - mmmm... slops, but already knowing what a fucked up bitch she could be my only question is "Why?").
A jizz-monkey - "Dumpster" moved in with me (gotta pay the rent... or not as was the case) who then did a runner aided by Dick.
My besty Ron-as-in-Later (that was his nom de plume) then took it upon himself to nick Dick's massive pot plant as revenge for seeing his mate so royally fucked over. He then slowly sold me large bags of that stuff over several months for a very small financial outlay (I'm talking silver coins - asked no questions, he told me no lies). Ron only told me that a few years ago. He died last Dec. I miss you mate.
So - Dick I enjoyed smoking all your pot you wanker. Cheers fuck-knuckle. I hope to god you still have the misfortune of being Painya's friend/wanna-be fuck buddy (she never liked the fatties btw).
Names changed cause I put a shit-load of sugar in Dumpster's bike tank & happily watched the business I'd built up (without a lot of Dick's help) crumble to not-very much AFTER he'd bought me out.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Sat 20 Jun 2015, 10:45, 6 replies)