Poo-tooth
I realise this is old news, but I have discovered that my mobile telephone has got this facility where, and you are not going to believe this, IT IS A CAMERA TOO!
It's true, it does all sorts, you can even change the way it rings so it does a tune!

Well, there's also this thing on it called Blue-tooth, which my friend assures me is called Poo-tooth. Evidently you must use the camera to take a picture of a particularly meaty Rover Coil, then use this "Poo tooth" to send it to everyone else in the pub who has the same thing on their phone.

The aim of the game is to keep a straight face whilst you see how many people look at this picture and freak out whilst wondering who has sent them a picture of their "doings".

Technology eh? Sooner or later we'll be making telephone calls on these things or something crazy.
(Rsoles, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 11:33, 7 replies)

Handy money-saving tips #1
Many years back I lived in a shared flat in Chalk Farm. Our flat was on the first and second floors of a house, and on the ground floor lived one of Camden Town's most unique characters. This fellow was thrifty - through necessity, as he was struggling to survive on the meagre allowance the council allowed him and he never quite got around to earning any other money, but I liked him as he was into music and films and smoking weed, and he had a bunch of stories to tell.

One day he called up to us, asking politely that we should stop flushing our toilets, as he was getting distressed by the bangers and mash backing up from the drains in the yard. Since there were five of us, and it was only a matter of time before someone needed to light a bum cigar, we called the council for him and they sent around a man to investigate the problem.

The man looked at the drains in the back yard, shook his head and went away. He returned with two other men. They pulled a set of drain rods out of their van then opened all the drain hatches in the front garden, had a prod around, shook their heads and went back to the van. Another van arrived, and a second squad of men opened the drains in the street outside the house, had a prod around, shook their heads and went back to their van. Eventually we had no less than twelve yellow jackets spreading from the back yard, through the house, to the front garden and the street beyond - then they congregated somewhere near the doorstep (we were watching with a kind of horrified fascination from the first floor), took hold of the drain rods and pushed. Then pushed again, and pushed again. And again, and again, and again...

It wasn't until a week later I got the full story from a mutual friend. It turned out that our eccentric neighbour, in order to save money, had been resorting to using his free copy of the yellow pages as bog roll. Over the course of a couple of books, the thick yellow sodden paper had become lodged in the pipes leading from the house to the sewers, and blocked them. However, it had blocked them about about 8 metres from the house, and solidified into a kind of papier-mâché - but mixed with everyone's shit, obviously - so for god knows how long, this giant yellow shitsnake had been building under the foundations, slowly growing in density until twelve men had to spend the best part of a day trying to destroy it.

And that is why, no matter how hard up you are, you should never use the yellow pages as toilet paper.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 11:33, 2 replies)

Newbie poo
My brother had a spot of food poisoning back when he was a teenager. His GP tipped off environmental health, and a shiny-shoed operative dropped off one of those little screw-top sample jars.

"Fill this when you go to the toilet," he helpfully told Bandage minor, "then pop it in the envelope, and we'll collect it."

Bandage minor dutifully did as he was told, screwed the top back on, popped it in the envelope and environmental health shiny-shoes man came and picked it up.

He returned the next day. "I meant a urine sample," he said.

In my darker moments, I have often wondered about the logistics of Bandage minor's toilet endeavour.
(GrahamBandage, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 11:22, Reply)

People who dont flush
How many times have you walked into a toilet to be confronted with a disgusting coil which manages to show you exactly what the creator had for breakfast, lunch, snack and dinner.

It is not too difficult.

1. Walk into toilet
2. Make sure that seat is clean
3. Plant your arse
4. Squeeze
5. Read
6. Laugh at farting sounds
7. Squeeze
8. Wipe
9. FLUSH THE FUCKING TOILET

Honest to god – if I was ruthless dictator of the country I would make it a crime punishable by death for those who don’t have the common decency to flush the toilet.
If it takes the power of two or three flushes – so be it. Just don’t leave the bastard in there for some poor sod to have to witness. YOU. SICK. FUCKS.*

*Yes – I just walked in to a toilet at work which contained something that could sink a ship - sorry for the rant.
( KISS.ME.WHERE.I.POO Signed the sex offenders register on, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 11:22, 4 replies)

shit facts
1. The ancient Egyptians used to make tampons out of dried crocodile shit.
2. Sewage treatment plants don't add anything to the mountains of shit they process - it's so virulent that it breaks itself down.
3. In 1976, Robert Milford of Michigan USA shat in a bottle and threw it in the sea with a note. It was later found by a fisherman in the Yellow Sea.
4. A dump taken from the observation deck of the Empire State Building will cover an area of five square metres on landing.
5. In Victorian London, hordes of poor people would comb the city streets for dog turds, which they'd then sell by weight to tanneries for the production of fine leather.
6. An elephant can shit it's own weight in three days.
7. In the middle ages, rat shit was used as an ingredient in the first soap production. This caused plague.
8. A healthy human turd should weigh around 600g.
9. The Chinese believe that constipation is a kind of demonic possession.
10. Peter Andre was conceived by anal sex.

Three of these facts are true. But which ones?
(frankspencer, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 11:20, 13 replies)

Shit in a shoe
When my granddad died, my granny went decidedly down hill and eventually ended up in a wardened flat.

As time went by I found out that she was a conniving old goat (and was a real bitch to my poor old granddad – but that’s another story). In her eyes, as soon as the old sod kicked the bucket, she would be moving in with my parents to live the life of riley. My parents had other ideas about this.

This must have pissed her off as the psychological games started as soon as she moved into the flat. She would phone up and groan down the line as if something bad had happened, regularly hit her panic alarm and was generally rude to my mum and dad.

However, the crowning glory must have been when she phoned up to say she had fallen over. Mum and dad rushed round to see if she was ok. What they found was her (fully clothed) lying on the floor, with a freshly laid cigar nestling in her slipper. Now, the thing about this is.

A)She was fully clothed
B)She still had one shoe on
C)She wore a colostomy bag, so must have removed the bag, squeezed out the contents and put the bag back.


She really was a weird one.

There was also the time I had to help change her ‘bag’ – but I get nightmares even thinking about that (as well as gagging), so I won’t go into any more detail.

Shudders.
(Deskbound You insignificant speck of dust, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 11:01, 2 replies)

Shit all over her stupid posh body
Trinity School in Croydon is one of those posh boys only nonce schools where chaps learn how to bugger younger boys, and show each other their 'gentlemen' for fun.

Anyway, it was the upper forms leaving do (prom for all you yanks out there) and girlfriends were invited. Expensive dresses and fancy haircuts were everywhere.

One guy goes and gets a round of drinks in, then promptly dissapears into the toilet with his pint. 10 minutes later he returns with a smile on his face, he's laid a charming brown gift in the pint glass. Hilarious I'm sure you'll agree.

A drunken idiot at the tables bets another drunken idiot that he won't drink any of the improved beer. The bet is taken on. However another guy wants to up the stakes, so he takes the pint glass, pops a handy condom over the rim and makes like Tom Cruise from cocktail.

Everyones having a good laugh and the idiot starts to shake his cocktail faster and faster, until pop! the condom slips off and the contents, now all mashed up and fucking reeking, deposit themselves all over one of the girlfriends and her expensive dress. The best bit was her boyfriend pissing himself with laughter as she cried.
(drshipman iz in yr shower killing yr nan, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 10:58, 3 replies)

Juvenile poo
My mom told me that once we were queuing up at the airport to go on hols. We got to the front of the counter and she sat me down on the airline check in desk and proceeded to do all the passport stuff. While all this was going on I stood up and did a massive shit. My mom and the airline girl only realised something was wrong when my runny poo had run down my leg and hit the counter.
My mom says that dad was very pissed off.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 10:57, 3 replies)

Miscarriage.

Singing ringing tree brings to mind an incident from times well past.

I used to work on a large Government site in the North of England which, at that time, had a fine mix of old dears and very young flighty things (to use the old vernacular). Anyway, there was one particular area known as the long corridor which seemed to be home to about 2,000 clerical workers and as you may imagine the toilet use was rather heavy. On this particular day one of the older ladies had been to the loo and walking into the cubicle was greeted with a view straight form Tarantino. The bowl was spattered all over with blood and the water was a deep burgundy. There was also a dark shadowy intimation of something solid in the bottom of the pan, obscured as it was by the burgundy fluid.

Unfortunately the said lady was weak of eye and in her haste to peer more closely managed to bend over too quickly, get a nosefull of the bloody aroma and instantly puke. Without thinking she flushed to clear the evidence. On returning to the office she explained what she had seen to one of her friends and the Chinese Whispers started. Before long the news was spreading like wildfire of an unconfirmed miscarriage, a DIY abortion and even more spurious flights of fancy.

Now one old dear , who was known for her unwillingness to gossip, had been sitting quietly keeping her peace but getting slowly but surely scarlet. Eventually she stood and with quiet dignity uttered the immortal phrase

"Alright, alright!! I was constipated and my piles let go. Happy now?"

And with that she collected her possessions, went home sick and stayed there for the rest of the week.

Length? Must have been impressive to do that sort of impersonation.
(porkylips looks better as the sun goes down., Tue 1 Apr 2008, 10:57, Reply)

Dambusters
In my last house, I had two loos. I preferred the downstairs one: the room was painted bright green, and when the spring sun shone throught the window just so it was a warm, cheery place.

Incrementally, and almost unnoticeably, the reservoir in the downstairs loo had been getting smaller, and, when flushed, the high-tide mark had been getting higher. Eventually, I noticed the difference, but thought little of it - the change had been very gradual - until, one evening, the pan almost overflowed. Nor was the sink draining as quickly as one might expect. Oh dear, I thought.

My Dad, being a DIY sort of person, has a set of drain rods. (In fact, he has two sets. Quite why is anybody's guess...) I lived fairly close to the 'rents at the time, so called him over.

We lifted the manhole cover outside the back door. There was a junction there. Flushing the upstairs loo, the water flowed freely down one arm of the junction. We flushed the downstairs loo; it trickled from out of another arm of the pipe. Dad began to screw together the component parts of his rods and told me to go and turn on the hot tap in the downstairs loo.

He prodded. He prodded some more.

There was movement.

There was a gurgle.

The blockage gave way; a torrent of filth sluiced its way under our feet.

You know that river of slime in Ghostbusters 2? It was something like that - but brown and much, much smellier than any film I've ever seen.

Living alone, I knew it was all mine; and, as the last dregs were washed away, I may have obtained a momentary insight into that mixture of pride and loss that parents feel when their children finally leave home for good.

Or I may have retched. Looking back, I think it was the latter.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 10:21, 1 reply)

At a mates Stag do
We got so wasted that we had a chilli eating contest when we got back to the digs (a mates house) These were those mean little birdseye ones. They were so hot, we were zoning out as our bodies tried to process them. Literally getting a huge buzz off them and losing it for a few minutes. This was all good and fun.

Until the following morning.

There were people fighting over the (single) toilet for hours. We all had trains to catch but were scared to go too far from a place of safety. All in all, the toilet got a good 4 hours of abuse, and my clear memory of that weekend is water and plaster dropping from the ceiling from a broken toilet and flooded bathroom and the "I'm so fucked" look on the hosts face.

Good times.
(Rimfeast, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 10:19, Reply)

Considering that it's April Fools day today
I might have a go at 'The Choppy' this morning.

1) Enter cubicle and lift up the lid AND seat.
2) Lay a cable across the edge of the pan at the front.
3) Wipe yourself up.
4) Lower seat carefully onto poo.
5) Leave the area.

When the next person comes to use the toilet and sits down,
they will put pressure on the seat and chop the poo in half,
with one piece falling off into their kecks around their ankles.
This should prove confusing for the unfortunate victim.
(oneinthepink is at your cervix m'lady, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 10:10, 4 replies)

Rakky's herbal tea tale reminds me;
Health food shops are places of concentrated evil. In fact, I recall a recent news story about one of these chinese herbalists being prosecuted for killing some girl by selling her what was supposedly a painkiller. Perhaps it was just a mis-translation? Painkiller / Kills in pain, close enough eh?

Anyway, I have one simple recommendation for a digestive herbal aid: Mint Tea. It's the only 'health food' type stuff that's ever worked for me, and boy was it good. Like Slick-50 for the colon.

I was at work one long and extremely dull weekend. I had a rummage through my desk to kill five minutes and discovered some long-forgotten Mint teabags. I'd also forgotten how pleasantly refreshing a beverage they produce when infused into hot water. So much did I enjoy the flavoursome refreshment that I partook of several cups throughout the day. No physical effect made itself apparent until late in the afternoon when the gut-rumble came on as more an urgent sharp abdominal pain than the usual churning.

I must point out at this stage, that I have a complete and utter aversion to doing #2's anywhere apart from my own home throne. It's not unknown for me to drive 20 minutes each way during my lunch hour to have a crap at home. Crimping one off at work, then, hold as much personal discomfort to me as filling your pants would, to a pikey perhaps. So with deep disdain and much emotional turmoil, I made my way to the company crapper. I feared that it would be a 'biggun' and someone would inevitably come into the toilets as a gust of arse wind escaped noisily.

Thanks to the bowel greasing effect of mint tea, my fears were completely unfounded. The log(s) consistensy was barely affected, but they had magically received a coating as slippery as a KY covered eel overdosing on amphetamine. I no sooner relaxed my sphincter than a gaggle of manure moles hastily departed my rectum as though they were late for a prestigious sewer party. It was all over in the blink of a brown-eye!

Being that I was only a mail-room lackey at the time, the paid-to-poo benefit was probably less than one English pound.

Length:
Turds - Average
Time - To be faster than that, you'd need a Delorean equipped with a flux-capacitor.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 9:30, 1 reply)

Cyanide poisoning
Cyanide is nasty stuff. The CN group is found in many molecules, and in a good number of cases it is highly toxic, for example as hydrogen cyanide gas, or potassium cyanide salt.

Over the years, many antidotes and treatments have been recommended. In the UK, I believe the current advice for inhalation of the gas is just to give oxygen, but in the past one standard treatment for cyanide poisoning was the infamous "Solutions A and B".

Every chemical lab had these, if the scientists were using cyanide. Solutions A and B were ferrous sulphate in a citric acid solution, and an aqueous solution of sodium carbonate, respectively. Upon suspected ingestion of cyanide, equal quantities of A and B were mixed together and drunk quickly, the idea being that the cyanide would react with the solution and form a relatively harmless compound which would then pass through the body, assisted by the ingested chemical concoction, and without causing death in the process.

Anyway, a former colleague of mine told me about one of his contemporaries when he was doing his PhD studies. This fellow was of a nervous disposition, and he had listened intently to the safety briefings, although not intently enough. Cyanide has a distinctive almond odour*, so it's pretty obvious when you inhale it, but only ingestion of cyanides was supposed to be treated by the solution A and B method.

So our man was working in the lab one day, when he got a whiff of almonds. Panic ensued. He though he was going to die imminently, but he got his brain into gear and thought about what to do. "Ah, the A and B solutions!"

So he got the bottles, mixed them together, and drank the lot.

A whole litre.

The recommended dose was 100ml or something. I forget the exact figure, but 1 litre was way in excess of the recommendation.

The good news is that he didn't die of cyanide poisoning, (even though he'd actually not ingested it, and therefore taken the wrong treatment). The bad news though is that solutions A and B act as a strong laxative. Especially when you drink 10 times as much as is recommended.

He made it to the toilet cubicle. But not onto the toilet. Apparently he was just at the point of sitting down when his sphincter could resist no more, and unleashed a torrent of chemically enhanced shit everywhere.

Once he'd managed to clean himself up, he was made to clean up the toilet cubicle too. Unlucky!

_{*Cyanide also tastes almondy. There's a very small amount in apple pips. Eat one and you'll taste the almonds. That's cyanide, that is. Eat a whole cupful of apple pips and you might die.}
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 9:11, 1 reply)

Wacken 06'
At Wacken (German death metal festival) decided to use on of the portaloos.

Someone had taken the time to create a pyramid of shit that extended ABOVE the bowl.

And to top it off some kind soul had put a bakewell tart of top of it.
(ldwater otherwise known as a 'jive turkey', Tue 1 Apr 2008, 8:43, 3 replies)

I'm in training...
.. so most of my diet consists of lean chicken, broccolli, asparagus, some pasta and lots of cereal... and usually I have no problems "dropping the kids off".

However, I have just been in Spain and stayed in a 5 star hotel with restricted width plumbing.

After a week of Tapas, I layed the longest widest log I have ever put down. I tried to crimp it off at about 5 inches, but it wouldn't snap and revealed it's full yule-loggish 10 inch plus length.

No flush would budge it. I had to mash it with a toothbrush, which I dropped "dans le pan" and managed to dispatch with the first flush.

Length? Forget it... the girth was alarming!
( Piper Alpha is being a grumpy northerm bastard on:, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 8:30, Reply)

My time to shine!
Firstly, I thank you for this opportunity. Well, I've always been known for my infrequent and large poos. When I was about 14 I was marched to the doctors and told I had to pour some powder into water and drink that everyday. I got to choose from 2 flavours, orange or lemon, but the fact was little could be done to make constipation medecine taste any less awful than it sounds. First lot I had I threw up my spaghetti bolognase in the sink, it wasn't even partly digested so mother had a lovely time dealing with that situation.

Even better a situation to deal with was my submarine of a turd I dropped about 6 weeks ago. I've blocked the toilet for up to 3 weeks before, so when I depth charged the bog this time my father had had enough. So we went to what I can only imagine to be a pretty hardcore shop for supplies when dealing with a pretty hardcore situation; he left with a litre bottle of sulphuric acid.

First thing to note: It's a litre.
Second: You only need to use a bit.
Third: You have to dilute it.
Fourth: It's for clearing drain pipes.

Through the eyes of my father?

First: Fuck yeah I have loads of this shit.
Second: I can use fucking loads of this shit!
Third: I'm pouring it into water anyway so fuck this shit!
Fourth: Let's fucking nuke this shit!

He pours the whole bloody lot down the toilet in one go, buggers off downstairs to have a cup of tea then hears a very, very loud bang. They though it was the toilet seat falling down, turns out the litre of sulpuric acid did what it's mean to do and nuked the shit out of the toilet, literally. Lumps of poo on the floor, water everywhere and a nice big crack down the back of the bog.

The funniest thing was my mum shouting at me for it, she made it seem like it was my fault. I may have blocked it to buggery, but it's not my fault that my dad had to do that to it. That's the equivelant of getting a piece of sweetcorn stuck between your teeth and shoving a stick of dynamite in your mouth to get rid.

It was long :-)
(MunchMyBalloons, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 8:26, 2 replies)

Following Greencloud's lead
Did you hear about the constipated Chancellor?

He couldn't budget.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 8:24, Reply)

Irony
Clearly b3ta has some kind of power to affect me at a distance that I didn't know about. My guts have been fine for months, and yesterday they started churning. The ass-vikings are back, and they're eager to escape.
(calamarain just invented dehydrated water, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 7:26, 4 replies)

The ten ton turd
A couple of years ago i was flying to point B from point A via point C.
Got to C no problems had about 45 min stopover before taking off again. Just before we were due to reboard it was anounced that the flight was delayed due to "technical problems" . No worries you dont want any risks at 30 000 feet eh?

Then i happened to overhear 2 of the flight attendants talking . The real reason the plane was grounded , a pan jammer!

Somebody had left a richard so big that it had completley blocked the planes toilet. REmember this is one of those super suction crappers as well. The mind boggles.

Still a log big enough to ground a plane is truly impressive in anyones books .

Can anybody beat a shit that knocks a boeing 737 into submission????
(welgar, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 7:15, 3 replies)

Weirdo does Poo
Not me, but a mate of a mate ...
had a summer job as inspector of the public toilets. He saw some pretty eye-opening stuff, but nothing weirder than in this beachfront bog, where some depraved mutant had:
laid a perfect sausage-shaped log in the middle of the floor;
pushed two bolts into either end;
and stuck a row of seagull feathers along the top.

Imagine walking in and seeing that.
(mudskipper, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 7:08, 1 reply)

HDR Shit
Hell, you've got my curiosity. I've seen a lot of urban exploration photos but never of shit.
(racetraitor has an alibi for, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 4:46, 1 reply)

Shit Happens
My contribution to this particular QOTW concerns yours truly driving home from work late one afternoon in peak hour traffic and getting the “urge”. At first I attempted to dismiss the desire by nonchalantly whistling along to some tune that was playing on the car radio, all the while desperately trying not to be too distressed by the predicament in which I suddenly found myself. The bravado however lasted all of about thirty seconds, when I was hit with what can only be described as the worst gut wrenching pain I have ever experienced. There I was crawling along in bumper-to-bumper traffic with the distinct feeling I was about to disgrace myself.

It is said that necessity is the mother of invention, something I can say I wholeheartedly agree with. With the possibility a trouser soiling was imminent, I looked around for something that would provide me (and the car seat) with some measure of protection. Spying the front passenger side car mat, I whipped it up off the floor and deftly slid it in between the seat and myself, considering that if the worst was indeed to happen, at the very least the car seat would be saved.

Fortuitously the line of cars began to move, which somehow gave me renewed hope that I wouldn’t be disgracing myself after all. I drove into the first petrol station along the way and urgently parked the car crookedly alongside the toilets. With great agility and indeed clenched cheeks, I extracted myself and the mat from the car, and quickly waddled my way into the one and only ‘Mens’ room that was oh so mercifully vacant. I had no sooner latched the door and was basically lowering myself in that classic kangaroo position, when the manure dam burst its bank. Oh dear. So should the poor cleaner of the Mobil Service Station at Lansvale NSW, or indeed the next person who was to happen upon my rectal faux pas be reading this, I deeply and humbly apologise for what it was you saw that day.
(Cogitator, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 2:59, Reply)

Who says romance is dead?
I do, actually. Having food poisoning can put a rather spectacular damper on a ``romantic'' vacation in Istanbul. Especially when both of you have it. Especially when it first makes itself known in the in-room jacuzzi. ``Ah, darling, make love to me in the moonlight pouring through the window as we look out upon the Hagia Sophia. It is truly a wonde....Parrrrpppppp. Christ. What's that stench??''
Nothing says romance like two people fighting over the same toilet. Then getting threatened at gunpoint by Turkish soldiers who mistook us for Kurdish terrorists while we were on our way to the hospital at 3:48 a.m.
(tuqueboy has been in a medically -induced coma since, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 2:23, Reply)

Dropping the kids off at the pool
When I used to live with my bro, we held a, "Be unkind to your arse" week.
This entailed eating as much spicy food as humanly possible.
*Chili Con carne so packed with fresh chili seeds we were crying whilst eating it.
*Drinking Nando's extra hot peri-peri sauce from the bottle.
*Spiking each others mundane meals such as meat casserole with habanero sauce.
There was no clear winner, except Andrex.
My bro announced that his arse had fallen out.
Quite impressively, he ignored a fart one morning and shit his pants.
Receiving the MMS message was a little disturbing to be fair.
My only saviour was baby wet wipes.
NEVER again. Oh...alright then.
(Mister-Chris, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 1:08, Reply)

disturbing bleeding from bad places
I'm not exactly sure on the history of that week, i think i was really busy or something.. and kept putting off going for a crap

anyway.. As per usual I've been eating tons.. and I'm concerned about the impending doom...

curl out a tiny turd... hmm thats not that bad.. then the rest shifted and i had to use all my strength to stop it.. because at the same time.. i had the stupidest amount of pain EVER.

3 days later.. I've still been putting it off, and decided that this has to go. D-day comes, i lost all control of my legs, and sight and everything went numb as it came out, wiped, and got VERY upset seeing a small amount of blood.. i was convinced i had somehow split my chocolate starfish.

it was okay after a few days... and a panicked call to NHS direct
(Neomancer last looked smug on, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 0:31, Reply)

Always read the label
When purchasing herbal tea from the health food shop, I have discovered it is imperative to read the contents and instructions of said tea before opening.

That way you won't do as I did this weekend and imbibe 7 cups of something that is essentially liquid laxative and has a warning on the packet stating 'Do not drink more than one cup in any 24 hour period.'

It serves me right for having set foot in a health food shop in the first place and goes some way to explain why Gillian McKeith has such a constant expression of sour faced disgust on her raddled old mush...
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 23:58, 4 replies)

When I was a baby
there were no such thing as disposable nappies so I had terry towelling.
When I was being christened I thought that I would be an opportune time to express my views on organised religion. I chose this moment to make it good 'n' sloppy. As this was a terry nappy it just squidged out of the edges and went right down the front of the vicar when he picked me up.
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Mon 31 Mar 2008, 23:48, Reply)

Slipping up in Sheffield
I was a wee alz0r and visiting my aunt in sheffield. Whilst out shopping in Sheffield city center a poor lady fell over rather rapidly.
What could of caused her to fall so rapidly.
A huge dog poo, with most of it now on her dress.
(The_artist_formally_known_as_alz0r, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 23:20, Reply)