I have a myriad of hilarious school tales I could tell.....
.....but one of my favourite ever actually belongs to my ex boyfriend - the father of my child.

Now *Andy's a nice guy, but personal hygiene was never his strong point. Showers were a rare indulgence, he kept the same toothbrush for 14 months and I'm fairly sure it was his feet that were used on that hideous 'criminail' advert. He also considered his bouts of flatulence (which arrived approximately every 30 seconds) to be epic performances, so what he did in the sixth form common room, should have been no surprise to anyone.....

Let's go back a decade and set the scene: a painfully strict, Catholic, all boys school, run by a sprinkling of Jesuit monks and fearsome oirish teachers. Andy would have been 17 - soon to be 18, and was mucking about in the common room with a couple of mates, playing pool or some such rubbish. Anyway - he wanders off into the kitchen to make a cuppa, just as the bell goes off signalling the end of lunchtime and the start of the last period. Our man fully intends to skive this lesson and so he stays hiding in the kitchen with the view to dashing out of school after everyone has left. "Fair enough", you might think; "we've all done it!" Perhaps.

You see, what Andy DIDN'T count on was a teacher locking the door after all of the lads had seemingly vacated the room.

"Oh buggery fuck", thinks Andy and ponders on what to do next.

He shoots a few solitary games of pool when he gets that oh-so-familiar bubbly feeling in the pit of his belly.

The carsey's on the other side of the locked door. Shite.

"I'll hold it in", Andy decides. Trying hard to ignore it, he sits down on the sofa and switches on the telly - no doubt to watch a repeat of some cunty daytime DIY show.

Nope. It's not going away. His violent bowl twisting is accompanied by some nasty griping pains. Ouch.

Andy stands up and tries his hand at a lone game of darts. Round the clock, perhaps? (Evil rules, obviously). But gravity does not benefit him and by now things are desperate. His guts have gone completely spastic and his ring-piece is straining against the pressure of the doubtless explosive turd threatening to cause carnage in his boxers. He needs to back out a cack and he's running out of time.

Panicking, he looks around the room and spots the waste-paper bin in the corner of the room, thoughtfully lined with a plastic Tesco bag (every little helps, right?!) - I assume you know what's coming next?!?!?!

Yep. it's the only thing for it. Andy whips off his keks faster than he used to cum and shats in the bin. Big time.

The relief felt by our protagonist (or antagonist, if you're a member of the faculty) is immeasurable, but it is quickly followed by worry as Andy realises that; a)he has nothing to wipe his shit-box with and b)what the fuck is he going to do with the shit?!

He turns round bare-arsed to study his creation and is mildly surprised at not finding the bin swimming with turgid brown anus-water. While it is not quite a pebble dash effect, neither is it a log - more of a gooey, bitty, sticky shit with very slight form. And it's massive. And rotten. And it smells worse than a morgue on fire.

Obviously, owing to the type of shite resting at the bottom of the bin, it is clear that Andy MUST wipe his batty, otherwise the smell will linger around him like a clingy child. But there's a dilemma: Andy has no tissues. So what does our hero do? Well let's put it this way, his mum never washed that particular pair of boxers again. Nor either of his Donnay socks.....

After dropping his soiled draws in the bin, he pulls up his school trousers and wonders what to do about dilemma number 2: disposing of the plop.

He can't throw it out the window - for he doesn't have the key to open it with. He point blank REFUSES to tie up the pony bag and hide it in his rucksack to throw away later - even Andy has some standards and plus, the stench is so horrific that everyone will clock. So what does he do?!

At this point the bell rings. It's 3:30pm and schools finished. His mates'll be back any minute! Panic-stricken, Andy looks around the room wildly for somewhere to stash his shameful mishap and decides upon shoving it down the back of the sofa cushions. Genius!

Andy then legs it back into the kitchen to hide and moments later, the door to the common room is unlocked and in bounds dozens of his adolescent peers, none the wiser. They laugh about his 'good' fortune at being accidentally locked in the common room. Andy leaves school for the day (weekend, actually) and skips off to get the bus, unchallenged by any teachers as to his whereabouts. Nobody guesses he is going commando. Phew.

So fast-forward two or three weeks. Everybody at school has been avoiding the common room like the plague. It's got this nasty smell in there you see - really rancid, like a dead animal or something. No-one's found out what it is yet. Until one wet, Thursday morning, the headmaster's furious roar booms out across the assembly hall.....

.....Apparently, the poor cleaner had made the gruesome discovery the previous night and was so traumatised that she quit on the spot! You see, what Andy had forgotten in his haste, was that the sofa in the common room backed on to the radiator. No wonder the smell had stayed put for so long.....

Of course the school head was incensed in the way that only teachers can be and used words such as "defecated" and "culprit" - even "expulsion!", (as they do). When the head asked the rest of the school if any body wanted to own up to anything, there was deafening silence (despite the fact that most of the pupils were probably biting there fists trying not to laugh).

So Andy fearfully kept stum. And as a result, got the ENTIRE sixth form banned from using their own common room for the rest of the school year.

It was only November.

Oh.




Length? Which length do you want? Andy's 6ft5, his shat was about a foot, his punishment half a year and his cock, well let's not embarrass the poor guy even more, eh?!

*Name not changed, because he's sooooo proud!!!
(Clonk, Mon 2 Feb 2009, 18:52, 5 replies)

Hmmm
You don't write like I would expect a lady to.

What does that make me, apart from suspicious that this was man-written?
( Ghoti Fingers, Mon 2 Feb 2009, 20:02, closed)

Well.....
.....I have been told that I have a rather 'masculine' energy. Thankfully, I also have a nice, small, ladylike clit.
(Clonk, Mon 2 Feb 2009, 20:12, closed)

And
a charming turn of phrase.

Honoured to make your acquaintance.
( Ghoti Fingers, Mon 2 Feb 2009, 20:14, closed)

Why thank you
And ditto, my friend.
(Clonk, Mon 2 Feb 2009, 20:15, closed)

when you say...
"more of a gooey, bitty, sticky shit with very slight form"

I think the phrase you are looking for is "angel delight"
(Gazebo will eat you on, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 14:07, closed)