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One of the B3ta team danced on stage at the Brixton Academy dressed as an enormous white rabbit, and lived to tell the tale. Confess the stuff – good or bad - you've done anonymously.

(, Thu 14 Jan 2010, 12:10)
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anonymous shitter
one drunken night, i confessed to an abomination. i told my housemate that the year previous, at download festival, i, being of unsound mind and colon, and being encamped some half mile from the toilet block from hell, awoke with a powerful need to shit, and snuck into my mates tent on the grounds it had headroom and was empty, to shit in a plastic bag. i then binned it.

the following year, at sonisphere festival, my housemate beckoned me over, and in a conspiratorial tone said 'pete, i've done something.. something horrible'

as it transpired he'd been inspired by my shitting prowess, and in a similar fashion, woken with a persistent turtle's head, and unleashed a few fathoms of knotty arse-rope inot a carrier bag. only he'd thenn left it, knotted in his tent all day in the heat. upon returning, he found the bag somewhat inflated, and decided for reasons we may never know, to toss it into the open doorway of a nearby tent, which was at the time unoccupied.
i can only imagine, having lived ith this guy as a housemate for several years, the horror that one of his turds in a warm bag would cause if someone say, crawled drunken into their tent and popped the bag.

i can also, despite having as mentioned knwon this man for some time, hardly comprehend the level of laziness required for this entire act in light of the fact we were camped a mere twenty metres from the toilet, and ten metres from the bins. i can only conclude despite his protestations of inocence, that he gets some kind of pervy kick out of his poop-sharing antics.
(, Wed 20 Jan 2010, 11:43, 4 replies)
That's grim..but made me chuckle.
It reminds me of a tale my mate told me. He was in Thailand and had been out for a meal with his girlfriend after a day buying tat and lounging on the beach. Carrying loads of bags back to their beach hut, he suddenly realised the meal and drink were having a liquefying effect on his guts and he really, really needed a shit. The problem was, they were on a tiny little road with ditches either side, and it was almost pitch black. He'd have to hold.

5 minutes later holding wasn't an option. He had to handover 5 or 6 bags to his girlfriend whilst trying to pull down his shorts and aim at the ditch without falling in it and ignoring his girlfriends laughing! He did this, and got back to the beach hut to find he hadn't actually done this, but shat all over the bags which had now rubbed all over his girlfriend's legs. :)

I regularly laugh at that one at the most random times...
(, Wed 20 Jan 2010, 12:13, closed)
Comeon, which house mate?

(, Wed 20 Jan 2010, 14:01, closed)
need to know basis
he wishes to remain hey nonny mouse.
(, Wed 20 Jan 2010, 15:15, closed)
A similar thing happened to me at Bestival this year - On the saturday a guy we were camping next to had got in a right old state and, for reasons known only to himself took a piss IN the tent I was sharing with three of my friends.

This simply could not be left; deadly retaliation was required. You can't just let tent pissers get away scot free. So when we came back to the camp on the sunday night, we were delighted to find the bloke already in his tent and happily passed out. It was time to strike.

My friend Sam, one of the other tent occupants, somehow procured a cup. Talented man, our Sam. Useful to have around. He filled it all the way to the top with steaming, aromatic, thunder yellow piss and, for good measure, took it somewhere a little less exposed, pulled down his cacks, and deposited into it the most perfectly formed nugget of faecal matter I've ever had the good fortune to witness. It's buoyancy was such that it just hung suspended in the wee wee, solid of consistency and horrifying of smell.

The deadly cocktail was placed outside our poor target's tent, in such a way that all but the most nimble and gymnastic person would invariably knock it over when they emerged. Philbert (the tormntee) was neither of those things and would also be suffering from a decent-sized hangover in the morning, so our plan was assured.

We woke up before him in the morning and to our delight the turd had marinated - a rich shitty pissy paste now filled the cup, its odour permeating the neighbourhood insidiously. High fives were exchanged with Sam. Truly, it was his masterpiece. Philbert, though, was less impressed when he knocked over the cup and its gruesome juice spilled forth copiously over everthing.

That showed him.
(, Wed 20 Jan 2010, 15:22, closed)

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