in the resteraunt.
A few years ago, when i was a wee sprog of 8, my parents decided to take me to London, oh what fun we had! until dinner time on the second day. More specifically the repercussions of that meal. Now something neither me or my parents new was that I had a slight problem with chicken gizzard, when I say slight, i mean that every time i let rip, it left shitty skid marks on my underwear. So a little thicker that a skidmark, but not as bad as a turd-crust.

Now, these gizzards really upset my stomach as the day went on, and my farts were becoming even more rancid. Then I decided to hold them in until I found a bathroom where I could relieve myself, because of a suggestion from my parents, who were getting quite fed up of driving round with all the windows wide open in february. I didn't find one. All fucking day. When i had told them how badly i needed to go. Then my parents decided to eat out at this posh resteraunt with me, blatantly ignoring my groans and wimpers. it was a very upper class little finger with the tea kind of place that we found, but we hadn't had time to go home and get changed. and before I had a chance to find a bathroom, I let it out, and for any of you that have seen the Catherine Tate sketch with the woman in the cinema, you get the idea, but that wasn't it, oh no, I shat. And shat some more. And some more, liquid and solid alike, dribbling down my leg. but did i tell my parents? Did I fuck, I sat there all night with my best poker face until we went home, leaving small pools of shit that were still dribbling down my leg on the floor.

In the car on the way back to the hotel, I had to make a snap decision, sit in the shit encrused cloth for an hour car journey, or chuck it out the window whilst my parents were pre-occupied. I chose the latter. when I took them off I actually noticed that my farting had left a hole in the seat of my pants, so I hurried up and quickly got rid of it. I managed to get out of the car and back into the hotel room and grab some clothes before my parents could see that i was naked from the waist down and run into the bathroom to wash up.

*sigh* It would have all gone so well If I hadn't chucked the trousers into the path of a car behind us, heading to the same hotel as us With my trousers having my name in them, as all school boy's trousers have. My parents found out, and the shit hit the fan(pun). But it didn't end there because my flatulence happened to continue for a while afterwadrds, which ended with me in hospital after many days gagging on my own gas clouds. anyway, it turns out that I had a small piece of some shit or other my stomach causing me to fart, which was removed, and all was right with the world.

Length? well, the surgeon got it out O.K.
(wow, didn't expect this story to be this long, but I guess I had to break my B3ta cherry in style)

Edit: Bad spellers of the world, Untie!)
(Retardedpasta, Mon 16 Jul 2007, 18:07, Reply)