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This is a question Shit Stories: Part Number Two

As a regular service to our readers, we've been re-opening old questions.

Once again, we want to hear your stories of shit, poo and number twos. Go on - be filthier than last time.

(, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 14:57)
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This question is now closed.

Dreadnaught from hell
Whilst working for an emergency service i once had the pleasure of a manager to come scurrying into our office asking us to go with him to see something amazing.

We all filed out thinking it was a bollocking or something to be led to the gents and shown the contents of trap 2.

In the pan sat the biggest brown trout you would ever want to see. The girth of this dreadnaught was immense. Amid the guffaws and i cannot believe its there were a couple of shocked and whitened faces.

as we filed back to the office the manager kept going round and getting fresh meat to look at the offending dead otter.

I sat there in my office with my colleagues discussing the offending toilet trout smug in the knowledge that not fifteen minutes earlier i was in fact sitting in trap 2 snapping off the loaf that i had been baking for around an hour or so!!
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 21:46, Reply)
Another 'Dam poo
I used to work in a famous hostel in Amsterdam and one day some shroomed-up kid decide to take a shit on the loo with the seat down - not only that, but it was the grittiest, messiest crap I'd ever seen like the fucker had got high then eaten the road outside. The cleaner refused to clear it up, unsurprisingly.

Also, at school someone once wrote their own name with a turd on the walls of the gym. They got caught. Wonder how.

Oh dear, retching now.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 21:38, Reply)
Brief, but appropriate
Sharing a house with friends post-university, we had a few waifs and strays to stay. One was my mate's (at the time) girlfriend, who we shall call Helen (for no apparent reason).

One morning, I go for the usual SSS routine, and look into the bog to see approximately (I didn't count) 50 brown raisin-type objects floating on the meniscus. Mucho flushing couldn't remove this, so I used the old "stick as much paper as you can down there and see if they'll be collected" trick.

Didn't work.

Anyway, later that evening, after many beers, I broached the subject to my housemates. Girl's boyfriend says "Oh that'll be Helen. Eats like a horse, shits like a rabbit".
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 20:52, Reply)
Oh god, squatting toilets.
While theoretically more hygienic, they are also much cheaper to make, and many corners can be cut.

For instance, let's take a sleepy rural mountain village in Hong Kong, where electricity is a rarity. As well as toilets in houses. The only toilet available is a small, public restroom built by the lowest bidder.

These guys didn’t bother installing a flush mechanism. Nor a lightbulb. Instead, a constant trickle of water from the scarily polluted river is piped into the pan through a hole in the wall, washing away whatever droppings you care to leave.

This stream of water is not sufficient to clear away an entire village's worth of effluent.

Now imagine yourself, slightly drunk and stumbling through the darkness with a badly made chinese flashlight into this stinking hellhole. You depant. You unsteadily crouch over the humming, shitty mass and aim – and at the vital moment, a gust of wind through the hole in the wall kisses your chocolate spider, startling you, and causing you to slip, flashlight and all, into the mountain of day old fermented mushy crap.

Despite being upstream to another village who used it regularly, I started shitting in the river after that.

Length? 9 inches, sailing off into the horizon.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 20:36, Reply)
worth telling?
I dont know why it took so long for me to think of putting this one out there.

Recently I was away in a foreign country for a networking event (read: piss up) with the company I work for. There was about 70 of us there and for the function on the first night all lager and wine was free.
Obviously this was to be abused as much as possible so i was at the bar for more every few minutes. I managed to consume a few gallons myself but I have nothing on the person this is about, who shall just be called A.

While everyone was making merry and drinking as much as they could, A managed to get so massively inebriated that, still not that far into the night, they collapsed on the dance floor and shit themselves infront of everyone, including the sales director. She spent the night in hospital on a drip and didnt show up again.

To anyone this would be seriously embarrasing, think how many times worse A must have felt as they are further up the ladder than most of the viewers of their scatalogical misadventure.

Queue massive loss of respect and snorts of laughter everytime they walk past at work now.

Shame really, they seem like such a nice person.

Length? I think it would have been more easily measured in volume
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 19:20, 1 reply)
I'll be glad when all this poo stuff is over with.....
I gained an unhealthy obsession with my bowel movements this week.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 18:21, 3 replies)
I was in a public toilet
I went into the end cubicle and sat down to do my business when from the adjacent cubicle came "Hello mate".

Not one to be ignorant I replied, "erm.. Hi"

"What are you doing?" Came the voice.

"Just Taking a crap, you?" I replied.

Then I heard:
"Yeah sorry mate Ill call you back, the idiot next to me keeps replying"
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 16:52, 16 replies)
On my way back from Amsterdam...
To be honest I always thought Amsterdam was a bit of a shitty city. Nah its good. But the worst of it was when I came to flying back. I decided to nip to the toilets before getting on my flight. The urinals were a bit busy so i dived into a cubical.
After almost being knocked out with the smell. Some previous person had left a right turd in there. I swear i have never seen one as big as that. Its as if they let all the drugs, beer and pizza fester inside them before they did their evil deed! Gee didnt your hotel have a bathroom? You had to save it for the airport?

It was so long it had wrapped itself round the u-bend. And no doubt some poor dutch bastard had a grim task of fishing that Lambton worm out. Whoever laid this was seriously ill!

Anyway I took a piss on it as I had to catch my flight. It looked like it needed feeding. I tried to flush the bog. But the beast wouldnt go down. Poor cleaners.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 16:46, 3 replies)
Turdy McShit
Last year after a boozy Friday night I awoke needing a rather urgent piss. I stumbled downstairs to the toilet realising that I was already late for meeting my chums in town so I hurried out the door not long after.
I returned home at around 4pm to be greeted by my flatmate Dan with a smirk on his face as he announced that I had done a massive shit in the toilet that wouldn't flush away.
Strange, I thought, I didn't recall shitting a girthy stool out of my penis that morning.
I was led to the toilet where there was indeed a massive turd that stubbornly refused to flush away.
I recounted my morning’s activities to Dan including that fact that there had not been any faecal matter present when I had my piss. I started asking more questions upon which it was discovered that his new girlfriend had 'discovered' the turd.
Suddenly Dan wasn't smirking anymore but guess who was...

After the girlfriend had gone home on Sunday we had more of a laugh over it even naming the log Turdy McShit.
We used up a bottle of bleach trying to dethrone the usurper to no avail (if only I'd known about the kettle trick!). Finally on the following Wednesday I got home from work and headed straight for a piss. There was Turdy languishing in the (until then) calm waters. I directed the full spray at him trying to break bits off. I finished up and flushed and to my amazement he had gone. I ran into the living room with all the excitement of a seven year old on Christmas morning to tell Dan the news.

We never spoke of it again and she didn't lay any more cable as stubborn as Turdy.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 16:42, 2 replies)
Tabloid scandal!
I just read that Evil Dead star Bruce Campbell got into a fist fight with Conservative leader David Cameron outside Parliament yesterday.

The headline was 'Ash Hits Tory'.

(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 16:36, 2 replies)
floodlit shit part deux
just remembered another one

a few years back mrs spimf and i went camping in a lovely part of scotland. at the time she had a nancy looking little toy poodle - to be fair the little fucker was as hard as nails and would have the hand off you at any opportunity but he was according to mrs spimf 'her little prince'. He only ever ate grilled chicken breast, pan fried liver (with a little dash of red wine naturally) or chocolate. He would walk on paths to avoid wet grass and would NEVER step in a puddle. i was also told that his toilet habits were ‘impeccable’.

After a day or so enjoying the Scottish scenery at our little campsite mrs spimf announced she need to go to the loo (see the other mrs spimf tale of poo woe further down: floodlit shit). However being a girly girl she wanted me to drive half an hour or so to the nearest village so we could find a loo. Naturally I informed my dearest that she could shit behind a bush like any other normal person. After she calmed down and smoothed her feathers I handed her a bog roll.

She wasn’t happy.

Muttering threats she trudged off - presumably looking for a particularly floral bush.
She did however seem happier on her return though so the mood improved considerably – right up to the point she realised the dog was missing.

A quick inspection of the surrounding woods revealed ‘her little price’ behind a bush happily munching away on his beloved owners still warm shit.

It took longer for me to stop laughing than it took her to clean the dirty little fucker up.

‘impeccable’ toilet habits. Pfft!
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 16:29, 1 reply)
as has been the subject of many posts
what is it with ladies and pan blockers?

i live on a houseboat with the wife. we have an electrimified toilet that sucks your deposit out thru a relativly small pipe... a bit like an airplane toilet, straight into the arse end of the grand union.
t'other night i stumbled upon (not for the first time) a drowned swiss roll.

except when i tried to flush it away, it bridged the exit pipe of the boat bog. right across. a turd with tensile strength!
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 16:04, Reply)
didnt think i had a story for this QOTW but just remembered this little gem. back in the annals of history the fauntleroy family decided to go camping in the peak district. it was after a particularly eventful barbecue that my brothers sisters and i were forced to eat the shit of a family friend whilst everyone sat around listening to the radio. eat more shit everyone would cry, and when we pleaded to stop we would be told to shut up and have another handful of excrement forced into our mouths.
I wouldnt really mind, but said fauntleroys family friend was a corn farmer and pretty much lived on a diet of corn. Now not being the biggest fan of sweetcorn, and having my hands tied around my back prevented me from being able to pick said colourful nodules out of his shit before i ate it to everyones amusement. It wasn't all bad though they got us drunk on poteen after, cant really remember much more about that night, i do remember waking up with a headache and a dry white flaky substance all over my face.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 15:45, 5 replies)
Recent Indian Experience
I was recently in India with work and was taken out to lunch by one guy to quite a reasonable restaurant.

However, towards the end of the meal, the stomach cramps hit. I dashed into the gents, and of course this being India, there is no toilet paper in the loo. Fortunatly, there is a paper towel dispensor by the sink, so I pulled out a wad of paper towels, then dashed back into the cubical, and let rip.....

It was nasty.

After mopping up my behind with the towels, wI dumped them down the loo, and hit the flush button.

Nothing happened.

OK, I thought, option 2. There was a sort of shower on a hose attachment, that is normally used to wash your bum - I tired that. The most pathetic dribble of water came out of the end. It had no hope of dislodging the brown mess of poo and paper in the pan.

Basically, I had to leave the loo, explain to my host that we had to leave, get and pay the bill, then dash outside before anyone else went into that bog, to find it stuffed with shit and paper towels.

I did leave a big tip though.

I am going back to India next week, I hope I don't get taken to the same restaurant.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 15:44, Reply)
Sorry if this has already been put on, and it's probably faked but it is a beauty.


Porobably NSFW.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 15:21, 1 reply)
German Fun
So after indulging in lots of food for a few days.. and deciding enough is enough its time for a shit... I let out what seemed like a shit of enormous proportions... it just kept coming out like a train through a tunnel... now curiously at this point i was wondering why the poo made no plop sound... its was surely a giant but no plop.. thats when I noticed the concept of the german poo-shelf.. looking down on all its glory was something like the john holmes of turds and no amount of flushing would get rid of it.. in the end just had to give up...

Now some issues with poo shelf-- one you see the turd in full manliness but two.. there is no water to absorb the stink particles.. let this be a warning always put down a sheet of paper in a german poo -shelf toilet..
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 15:17, 3 replies)
Pooing outside; not advised!
When I was wee ginger lad I used to play in the field next to my estate with my next door neighbours who were a couple of years older. On a few occasions my mum would use this opportunity to do the weekly shop so she wouldn't have take me. She used it as a kind of free babysitting service I suppose.

So...... this one particular night when she was out shopping and I was in the field the inevitable happened, a shit storm started brewing in my stomach. I was still to young to have my own house key and the older lads wouldn't let me in their house to relieve the turd tension in my tummy because they said "shitting outside would turn me into a man". To my young naive mind this made sense and with time running out before I exploded I headed behind the hedge.

I found my spot but it wasn't as private as I would have liked so I only pulled my trousers a quarter of the way down, so when I assumed the shitting position my front bits would still be concealed but my arse was free to empty its load. The perfect crime I thought. However, I overlooked the involuntary pissing factor in the shitting process! So while pooing I managed to piss myself. My mates thought this was the funniest thing ever, and still tell the story of how King Eric went for poo and managed to piss himself to this day.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 15:07, 1 reply)
Congratulations! It's twins!
A quick one. My sister was two weeks overdue with her second baby. Subsequently she had to be transferred to a different hospital in order to be induced, as the maternity hospital in her home town didn’t have the necessary facilities.

As she lay there in labour, the effort of pushing unfortunately caused her to spectacularly shit herself. And there wasn’t a thing she could do about it…

I’m so glad I’m not a woman sometimes.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 15:05, 8 replies)
Not a funny one as per se..
.. but more informative.

I'd not laid some track in a few days and was over a friends having a bit of a sesh involving weed. Now, it must have been good stuff because it remains to this day the most far gone I've ever been.

Needless to say, not so long into it I felt the push of frantic hands on closed doors and had to let it loose. Now, usually when I go it comes out in stages, but not this time, three days worth of it came out in one, long continuous stream over a period of five minutes. The amazing feat really hit home when I discovered it was a no-wiper.

I went into the next room and told my friends right away, as if I'd just had a revelation. They seemed to be in agreement that it was indeed, a very special moment. The lack of three wise men and a visible star dampened the experience though.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 14:05, Reply)
Urban legend
You have been warned - it's a story a mate told me many years ago - apols if anyone got there before me.

This story concerns our beloved monarch Liz Eye Eye (as we refer to her round these parts). As you may know, what with all the official visiting she does and the international incidents which might be precipitated by Queenie having to receive foreign dignitaries weeping and with pants full of regal poo prior to posting her own reminisences on these pages (you KNOW the Queen's a b3tan), it is necessary to ensure that a crapper is set aside for her personal use on all such engagements.

On this occasion, she was inspecting one of her battleships and the "mate of a mate" who starred in this story was working there at the time / sodomising his colleagues / wanking onto biscuits (delete as appropriate). He got truly lucky when he was "ass"igned to prepare / polish HRH's crapper. Sensing an op"poo"rtunity, he cunningly put the following plan into action:

1) Unscrew pipe behind bog
2) Insert ladies stocking* so as to catch any solid matter which passed through pipe.
3) Replace

If you give any credence to this tale at all, you'll be glad to know he scored a brown fish, which he subsequently dried, varnished, mounted and popped on his mantlepiece as a truly unique memento of the royal visit.

Apologies for likely high bullshit factor of this post - but please don't let that stop you clicking.

*I'd normally be curious as to why a man working far from land and presumably in an almost completely all-male environment possessed such an item. But he was a sailor - mystery solved.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 13:44, 7 replies)
It's Wednesday! I'm bored at work! And I'm soooo sorry...
With apologies to Billy Connolly...

A guy walks into an optician shop. He goes up to the counter, and places a violin case upon it.

The optician looks at the man quizzically and asks, “I’m sorry, can I help you at all”?

“Aye”, says the man, “it’s about this”, indicating the violin case.

“It’s a violin case”, states the optician, slightly puzzled.

“I KNOW it’s a violin case”, the man replies. “Look inside it”.

The optician shrugs, and opens the case, then promptly snaps it shut again. For inside the case, and filling every last bit of space, is a turd of monumental proportions, the likes of which have never been seen before. “Oh, for God’s sake”! he shouts. “You dirty, filthy bastard, how dare you come into my shop and sully my counter with that FILTH! It’s a bloody doctor you need, not an optician, you animal”.

The man shakes his head and says quickly, “No, no you don’t understand – every time I do one of those, my eyes water”.

(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 13:21, 5 replies)
See through public toilets and first dates
Sorry for the pearost, but this got buried in a reply to someone else's comment.

You know those see through public toilets? Here's a fun thing to do when on a first-date with someone you're not serious about but just getting to know.

If you're feeling a bit nervous and need relief from the nerves, find a see through toilet and take it in turns to go. The person inside could unleash their temporary exhibitionist streak and even try something unusual in there (like mooning at passers-by in all directions), safe in the knowledge that it cannot be seen from the outside. Although once the door opens again, reality enters the toilet and the private world of the goings on of the toilet gets flushed back into the mind of the user, but this feeling of liberation may stick around and help break the ice.

If the person inside is feeling more adventurous, the person outside could occasionally randomly wave at them or giggle like a loon for no reason, or even put on their best "OMG, you mean the poo-fairy doesn't exist?" face. With luck, they could time it to occur at the same time a 'toilet-event' occurs inside.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 13:07, 4 replies)
I have just found out my son is now a regular in these hallowed halls. This has put paid to many a poo story I had in mind as he visited me with the following statement:

"Dad, Posting on B3ta? Just remember, you need to sleep sometime."

From past experience not an idle threat. No family based reminiscences now then.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 13:04, 2 replies)
K2k6's post reminded me ...
... when I was a young-un, I used to regularly walk past a house that had a little grass verge just outside of it. Close by, written in what can only be described as a furious scribble, was a wooden plaque mounted on a stake bearing the legend "KEEP YOUR SHITTY ARSED DOGS OFF HERE". God knows what must have driven the elderly owner of the verge to create such potty-mouthed signage, but I like to think that he trod in a ripe dog's egg in open-toed sandals just one two many times and snapped like Michael Douglas in Falling Down.

Oddly enough, my dog always wanted to lay her cables on that grass verge. I'm almost sure she could read the sign, and shat as an act of defiance.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 12:55, 2 replies)
Rubix Poo
There are some cringingly awful pictures taken by my parents of me when I was a wee nipper, with a bowl cut and sitting on the potty making cheeky potty faces.

Some years later when I was 10, upon seeing these pictures, I was convinced that the one time I was photographed with a Rubix cube was also the same time that I miraculously pooed a cube shaped turd as well. Why I thought to mention this to my mother in front of various gathered family and friends is beyond me.

This suggestion was met with a snort of derision and the words: 'go and check if your arsehole is square'. Naturally I sulked for the rest of the day.

Now at those rare family gatherings I always get asked if I've laid any cube/conical/diamond shaped poos recently before everyone dissolves into fits of laughter while I grin and bear the idiocy of my 10 year old hallucinating mind.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 12:46, Reply)
American in Lancashire
* True Story

An American tourist, wanting an experience of traditional English life, is walking through a small Lancashire village when he espies an old guy sitting outside his house. Wandering over to take a photograph, the American sees that the old boy is pulling chunks off of something brown and dough like, rolling them in to little balls and neatly stacking them.

"So is this some kind of cottage industry then"? Says the Yank.

"Aye" replies the old guy.

"Riiight" says the Yank "so what are you making"?

"These"? replies the old guy. "Them's there are learning pills".

"Learning pills"?! replies that Yank

"Aye" replies the old guy. "Thems learning pills make you right brainy they do"

"Really"? replies the Yank.

"Aye" says the old guy.

"So how many of them there learning pills do you think a guy like me needs to be brainy"? asks the Yank

The old boy looks him up and down and says "You? About 10".

"and how much are they"?

"£50 each" replies the old lad.

"£50 each"?! squawks the American "That's nearly........250 bucks"!

"Aye, but thems learning pills makes you right brainy, right quick".

So the American, not wanting to miss out, digs out his wallet, counts out his money and buys ten of the pills. He knocks back all ten at once and starts chewing. All of sudden his eyes widen and he spits out the contents of his mouth shouting "Gaaahhhhhh, that's sheep shit"!!!

The old guy smiles at him and says "You're learning".

*not actually a true story.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 12:20, Reply)
I'd leave it 10 minutes...
If anyone was thinking of adding half a bottle of Tabasco to a can of Stagg's Dynamite Hot Chilli.

From personal experience - Just don't.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 12:11, Reply)
It's shit
Re post. no time.

I am 23, staggering in to the kitchen of my family home, fighting a hangover bigger than the flab roll that hangs over the waist band of Lisa Riely's hot pants. I am wearing my trusty towelling dressing gown, and nothing else. Now, I knew that we had family staying, cus I had to sleep on the sofa. I open the fridge door, with my back to the rest of the kitchen. I thought I was alone. I take a big refreshing gulp of apple juice, and feel a big rumble bubble in the old belly. "Ah, I feel a little windy-pop a-rising!" I happily sing to myself, looking forward to the gas release relief. I squeeze a little, too hard in hind’s sight and out pops a slimy; booze induced jobbie, right on the kitchen floor. It looked like I had broken off one of Bungles (from TV show Rainbow) fingers at the knuckle and smothered it in Vaseline. I am slightly taken a back by this, but not over come. That was until I shut the fridge door, turn around and see my mum, dad, uncle, auntie, sister, gran and grandpa sitting quietly having tea and toasted crumpets.
I had just sang a song about farting, then shat myself in the kitchen. In front of every respected member of my family.

Now, at every opportunity, does not matter if in front of one or hundreds of people, my father is always, “ hey every one, you wanna hear the story when Jeeves shat on the kitchen floor?” I reply with, “ you wanna hear a story about when dad was caught touching the 8 year old boy next door?”. My stories never get a big laugh.
(, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 11:54, 4 replies)

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