Nobby Stiles
My second Glastonbury festival. In those days I was a bit nesh, and not really looking forward to visiting festival toilets, so I think to myself, it's only three days, I'll wait until I get home to let the brown trout out. This I managed without too much discomfort as I was mostly living on a diet of alcohol, chemicals, herbs and fungus, and I made it hom without mishap. It was with a certain amount of relief that I lowered myself onto the bowl, and I felt a few gentle twinges back there before all hell broke loose. It was like being raped backwards - the thing must have been about four inches in diameter and a good three feet long, and as my poor nipsy had been tightly clenched for the whole weekend, it didn't have a lot of give in it. After panting, struggling, gasping, waving my arms around ineffectually and straining, I eventually persuaded my sphincter to stretch around the monster log and after the last splash I went to tenderly dab the affected area with some bog roll. Turns out Mr Poo had thought he might be a bit lonely in the outside world, and so had brought down a couple of friends to see him off, Mr and Mrs Bumgrapes. I think I was only 17 at the time and having to go and get them checked (with a finger up the bum) by the doctor was one of the most embarassing days of my life.

Kids - festival toilets may be awful, but bear in mind this cautionary tale next time you're tempted to "pinch the fig" - it's just not worth it in the long run.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 15:03, Reply)