Duvet stuffing.
Many years ago a chum of mine had recently moved into his first flat.

He's a lovely, warm spirited guy. Very talented in anything creative,
when his guitars were in transit between his old place and this new flat, he was given a keyboard. He equated the keys with the frets on a guitar and was playing classic rock numbers tonally perfect within three days, having never touched a keyboard before in his life. We're talking borderline savant qualities, but matters of a practical nature have always troubled him.

When I say practical, I mean from the very basics upwards. Soon after moving in he would phone me asking if boiling water is a fire hazard, where to buy bin bags, bill paying procedures etc. He was far from useless, just very poorly informed.

As you can probably imagine, his diet wasn't great during this period. There was a Burger King, kebab shop, Indian takeaway and a generic southern fried chicken place 'round the corner from his new home, so they provided 100% of his nutritional intake.

All was well for about a fortnight, but then his stomach essentailly decreed its own dirty protest. He woke up on a Saturday morning and started shitting. heavily. By Sunday he had run out of toilet paper.

In the absence of traditional bum-paper, and in a mild state of arse-peril, he'd cut open his duvet and started using the stuffing. Any port in a liquid storm. It turns out that duvet stuffing, at least ones of this tog rating, don't actually flush away.

The problem was, when me and two other mates went over there to visit him the following weekend, we found out that rather than address the problem at the early stage, my chum had created a festering excrement/duvet wadding layer cake. After a week of poorly digested, processed-meat-heavy, watery mud-biscuits had been laid, one on top of the other, his toilet was now blocked and VERY full. To the actual brim. With Heinz consitency shit.

The smell was approaching chemical weapon potency. Very, very unpleasant.

We decided that a night in the pub might be a good idea.

One problem. Just before we left and without warning, my own stomach started somersaulting violently. I had eaten something that had obviously given me the right belly-grump and I went from normal to brown defcon 5 within 30 seconds. It was coming out irrelevant of my say in the matter. The toilet was honestly too full. My chum's toxic quicksand was actually flush (excuse he pun) to the the lip of the chod-bin. I had to go, but I had to find a different recepticle for my emmisions.

So, dear reader, that is how I found myself in the hallway of a friends flat, releasing a tsunami of angry bovril into a washing up bowl.

When I finished, I looked down to see there was a teacup and a fork still in there. Meh. I wiped with some duvet stuffing. It's really good for the job.

Apologies for length and grimness, but it was coming out either way.
( sir_spicious2000 Crap I've watched: www.filmplop.blogspot.com/, Fri 3 Feb 2012, 1:42, 3 replies)

'Tsunami of angry bovril'
You get a click just for that line!

*click*
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Fri 3 Feb 2012, 7:23, closed)

Ta very much
:)
( sir_spicious2000 Crap I've watched: www.filmplop.blogspot.com/, Fri 3 Feb 2012, 9:19, closed)

^ So very much this.

( Colonel Boris "...a desperate Buzzfeed imitation...", Fri 3 Feb 2012, 9:19, closed)