Homebrew antics
I like to make my own homebrew and have been doing so for many years; some homebrews are good and some homebrews are bad.

One year I made a particularly good batch of ale and invited a few friends round to sample some. On this occasion I had two batches of the stuff on the go one in the pressure barrel and another in some bottles. As the evening progressed we all became highly refreshed and ran out of the bottled stuff so needless to say we progressed on to the ale from the pressure barrel. It was at this point when everything went wrong. I pour out five pints of lovely refreshing nut brown ale, one of my friends was the first to taste it and then started making a strange noise and blurted out "This beer is flat! It has no fizz in it!". That's when I realised I should have used the CO2 injector to fizzify the beer in the barrel. I had no CO2 cartridges left, so instead of drinking the flat beer we all went out to the pub for a few more beers and had quite a good night.

When making homebrew in the pressure barrel I now always make sure I'm well stocked up on CO2 cartidges.
( The Duke of Prunes, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 21:16, Reply)

Gas... no, liquid!
I can't be the only one who's laid in bed recovering from a bout of diarrhoea, woken up woozily and thought "I feel like I need to fart - I must be OK by now,"...

...well, you know the rest. I'm not the only one.
( sanityclause is waiting until, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 21:02, Reply)

Centre Parcs
My Dad worked on Longleat Centre Parcs, mainly putting up the villas. When they started, as there were only portaloos, up by the office, about 2 miles away from where they were working, most of the builders had a favourite tree in the forest where they'd go for a crap. They got to know each other's stools that well that they could identify someone by the turd.

As they got further on with the job, the villas started to be decorated, and a lot of empty paint tins appeared, so they started crapping in them, then chucking them in the skip.

One day one of the builders was particularly desperate, and had had a slightly dodgy curry the night before, only he couldn't find an empty paint tin, so he opened a fresh one and went in that. He then stirred it in, and put the lid back on. So if you go to Longleat Centre Parcs and you feel your villa is a slightly darker shade of magnolia than others, that's the reason for it.
(Oily, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 20:43, Reply)

Hole in one
Back in the old days I used to go drinking with my friend Tim at a certain local pub. We used to walk home across a golf course after chucking-out time.

His standard party trick was to coil one into the cup on the closest green.
(Thomas_The_Spankengine, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 20:40, 2 replies)

Shit Shop
A few years ago i started a new job as assistant manager of a charity shop.
After a few days of working there a scruffy old man who had shit himself came into the shop looking for a clean pair of pants. He looked at the trousers and left (no doubt the pants i was selling were too expensive).
During his brief visit the shit in his pants had poured from his trouser legs and covered my carpet from the door to the back of the shop.
The smell was utterly vile. I was nearly sick, customers were nearly sick and the vounteer manning the till ran upstairs to get away from the smell.
I had to close and we cleaned up.
When the floor was back to normal and the shop smelling freh, we reopened.
Unfortunatly for us Mr Shitty Pants had dumped a load on the street outside and customers just brought it all in on their shoes. Once again we had to shut and clean the carpet.
We stayed shut for the rest of the afternoon.

About a year later we had a refit. The shop looked great. The old carpet had been replaced with a new linoleum type flooring and on our first day of reopening we joked that it would be much easier to clean up diarrhoea off that than carpet.

We shouln't have tempted fate.

Later that same day a woman who it turned out had shit herself had come in the shop and bought a new clean skirt.
The woman managed to walk passed the changing room and decided to get changed in my office.
She left a pile of crap for me to clean up on the only bit of carpet left downstairs.
After heaving a few times while cleaning up and a couple of fags in the back street the woman came back in and asked the volunteer on the till if she had left her shopping in the shop!

Although it may sound like it does, this sort of thing doesn't happen very often.
(oh globbits love is always over in the morning, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 20:26, Reply)

Sonic'd up...
Last year a friend and I got together to, being the geeks that we are, watch the Doctor Who series finale together. We decided to invent a Doctor Who related cocktail, the Sonic Screwdriver, which involved amongst other ingredients, Blue Food Colouring. I had quite a lot of these cocktails over the course of the evening and managed to injest half a bottle of the colourant.

The next morning; bright blue poo. Don't do it kids, it's just not cool...
(The Who Bird is eating Jaffa Cakes on, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 20:20, 1 reply)

On-bog Gaming
Over the course of the evolution of the games console perhaps the best thing that's happened to me while taking a shit is the Gameboy. Many an hour have been spent breaking records and getting awesome at Tetris while dropping blocks of my own.

Since the original clumsy Gameboy was released technology has moved on, and so did I. I did so curl a beauty while completing Super Mario Deluxe on the Gameboy Colour. I did a job whilst completing some jobs on Final Fantasy Tactics Advance. I laid some bars while Mario grabbed stars in Super Mario DS. And rather more recently one had to flush the chain after using Kratos'es chains to uphold Olympus against the might of the Underworld (God of War on PSP rocks btw).

So thank you Nintendo! All hail Sony! And thank for the lord for Andrex, whom sponsored this journey of poo and discovery.

One of the advantages of this is that no-one wants to borrow your GB/GBA/DS/PSP mainly because of the faint smell of bottom-aroma that surrounds the device after a good session.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 20:03, 3 replies)

Beer related (unsuprisingly)
As I was a bit strapped for cash I decided to walk back the lots of miles from the Uni nightclub to my house, unfortunately about a mile into this walk I found I really needed to lose some weight fast. Quick as a flash I hopped a hedge, snuck behind a wall and released something that I wouldn't have believed would have fitted inside me; it was the worlds biggest poo and was of almost bovine proportions. Feeling relieved I wiped up with some handy leaves, hopped over the wall and then the hedge and continued on my way home. After about 3 steps I saw the most gigantic poo ever it was at least as big as the one I'd left, my initial amazement at the number of huge leavings in the vicinity was short lived. I looked at the wall and then hedge; I'd hopped into someones garden, hopped back out and crapped right in the middle of the pavement. Oops.
(lankymike, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 20:02, Reply)

True Story
Eating about 1000 daisies does make your bottom pellets rather floaty light, fragrant and petaly. Also daisies can survive your digestive system in one piece.

I know this from experience.
(cactusrob, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 19:54, 2 replies)

Shameless Pearoast
In my last teenage year me and 2 friends broke in to a moderatly posh school during the summer.

The college was housing some Spanish students that flood Dublin every year. So we broke in through the gym's changing rooms at night and shuffled our way through the corridors, entered a few rooms and flicked on the lights to see startled young spanish students gibbering away. We found another room but the students were not in.

Cue pissing on all of the beds, all mobile phones stolen, very expensive camera's taken and some very subtle arse wiping on the sheets. So after that we went to the games room, stole the white and green ball from the snooker table and made 2 quite good gearknobs but the icing on the cake was when we were on our way out of the gym i took a dump right in the middle of painted circle of the gym floor and took a few snaps of my brown mound.

Length? About 8 inches crouching down.
(TheNumpty last touched you at, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 19:25, 17 replies)

Oh dear God, not another one. Or, Thai toilets and flip flops don't mix...
I thought I'd struggle this week. Turns out not...

My Dad, bless 'im, regularly trots this one out. He is married to Thai, and spent a fair bit of time in the country. So he's familiar enough with some of the shitholes ('scuse pun) that pass for temples of defeacation.

On a boat trip, he was caught short, and headed off to finds the bogs, hoping that as it's a fairly nice boat, western style crappers are the order of the day.

No. Deary me, that would be too much to ask. On locating the toilet (which was through the kitchen and to the left - Health and Safety anyone?) he was dismayed to see it was the traditional hole in the ground, with a jug and a bucket of water nearby for flushing purposes.

Oh, and the floor was wet. Hm. He's wearing cotton trousers and flip flops.

So my Dad, being a resourceful fellow in these situations, thought he would remove his trousers and hang them on the door, so as not to get them utterly soaked. Having done that, he took up the customary position and braced himself.

What happened next was not the hoped for blessed relief of the bomb bay doors opening. No, what happened next was that his feet slipped from underneath him, and down into the hole he went, stuck fast and unable to get himself back into an upright position. His exact words to me were, "I was stuck there, splashing and farting in this hole, and the more I struggled, the more I pissed myself laughing, all the while thinking I hope someone doesn't need to use the loo, cos I can't get out".

Thanks Dad, for that mental image, and also for making me choke on my pint when you first told me that tale.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 27 Mar 2008, 19:24, Reply)

How to impress your ex....
Unfortunatly my ex and I split up when she wasn't sure whether or not she was pregnant, we had a couple of weeks where we hated each other, but then we realised how much we were great friends, and she found out that we were going to be parents too.
We got together again for a few weeks but both decided we were better as friends than lovers.

The pregnancy carried on, it turned out to be twins, and she had a bad last few weeks where she looked like a beautiful beach ball and couldn't do much.

So I took her two yr old daughter to her playgroup, it was about 40 mins bus ride away, then I had to hang around for about 3 hours to pick her up again and catch the bus back to the ex's.

Breakfast was from a famous fast food cafe, I won't say which one (the clue is raincoat disney duck.)
It tasted a bit strange, but I'd not had one for a while so it might be me.

By the time we got off the bus I walked the 200yds with my buttocks clenched so hard I could have squashed a lemon flat.
"Here she is, I need the loo".
I sat there for over an hour, and was never so glad that her sink was next to the toilet.
I stood up.
I sat down for another hour.

Now I have a very very pregnant ex stood outside the door wanting to empty her bladder, something that should have been done every 5 minutes.

I manage to stand, cover myself, and flush.
Walked through to the bedroom.
Fell onto the bed.

"Are you not well?"

I've been sat on her shitter for about 90 minutes, I look like I've had all the moisture drawn out of my body, I'm not entirely sure that my trousers are actually covering me totally, and my response is somewhat curt.

"Maybe you should go home?" Part annoyance, part a desire to get the loo back for herself.

Getting home would involve a 20 minute bus ride, then a half mile walk. I can barely get back across the landing to her toilet.

After about another 40 mins on the bed I return to the toilet. I'm empty, just a weak watery liquid.

She's in no physical condition to walk with me to the bus, but give her her due, she did ring me when I got home to check I'd got there okay. The conversation was "I'm here, got to go."

I've never ever been so glad that my bedroom was right next to the bathroom.

I can only assume that it was the breakfast that caused it, but I'm not sure.
(paof2 Nude might not be rude, but rude could be nude..., Thu 27 Mar 2008, 19:23, Reply)

Not just any green poo
I had a stomach virus about a year ago, and the poop I produced was completely liquid, bright green, odorless, and slightly foamy. I later found out it was just bile, which was kind of disappointing.

One incident still goes unexplained, and that's when I had one that was white with little green and red vegetable bits in it. How festive.
( trintrin has jam for blood, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 19:18, 1 reply)

Quorn - the instrument of death
Two years ago I had some friends over for dinner. They are vegetarian, so I did a curry with quorn pieces in it. It all went down very well, and there was nothing amiss until an hour later when I felt an awful pain in my stomach. I ran to the bathroom and first of all it was vomit. Then the shit waves began. I managed to get my arse onto the toilet and proceeded to fill it up with liquipoo. The smell that followed defies description. I spent so long sitting hunched on that toilet that I almost put my back out. The climax of the evening was when I collapsed without warning on the kitchen floor from dehydration. The cruel irony was that I was carrying a glass of water in my hand at the time with the intention of drinking it. I regained consciousness soaking wet and surrounded by broken glass. Amazingly, I wasn't cut. I later found out that I have an allergy to Quorn products (apparently it's very common) which makes me nearly shit myself into a coma. It's enough to make me want to eat a whole cow. Bastard Quorn!
(drfeck pissshitfuck, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 19:17, 3 replies)

A worrying sight
I like beer. A lot. Beer doesn't like me and makes my bowels very unpleasant to live with.


But that's for a later entry (ooer mrs etc...)

Because of the aforementioned affliction I was advised to try guinness as it might not kickstart my bowels into a meltdown to rival Chernobyl. I tried guinness for a whole night and found the advice to be true, as the next morning I was not lying comatose, part asphyxiated in my own foulness, guts griping and dreading the next two hours of shivering screaming crying and pleading to any god that will listen. But I digress. The mornings logout session was swift and over in the blink of an eye, I was saved!
When I looked over my shoulder, my heart sank. I knew that the guinness was the holy grail I had waited for but I also knew from the sight that greeted me from the pan, I could never drink it again.

It looked like I'd drowned a small family of moles.
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 19:16, 2 replies)

The one where mr teatime shits himsilf at a meeting
Around a year ago whilst working as a trainee sales engineer with a hydraulics company I experienced what at the time, was quite a traumatising experience …

Myself and the sales manager would visit clients together, the idea being that I would be trained as we went along and so he had organised a meeting with one of our clients. We duly arrived and as we were waiting in the reception, the warning signs appeared, I should have known then that the faint rumblings in my belly were about to cause a major problem, but no I elected to not ask where the toilet was and swept it under the rug so to speak. Our client soon came to greet us and began to lead us through to the meeting room, not long into the journey my arsehole decided to go into a bit of a flap and slowly let its slimy brown infected mess into my pants. With each step more came out, I was now beyond the twilight zone. As we reached the meeting room I snapped back to reality, asked where the toilets were and excused myself. Following the directions given and with a steady amount of hot sticky arse fluid running out of my undergarments, down my leg in to my shoe, I made my way to the sanctuary of the toilets. Of course as fate had it, during this time I am being followed by a couple of office hotties, how attracted to me they must have been as I left my dripping trail of arse matter.

It is then I realise that there is a flight of stairs between me and the WC. Now if any of you has tried to walk up stairs while trying to hold in a wave of watery devils ca ca, you will realise it's pretty much up there amongst faster than light travel and finding Janet Street Porter attractive in terms of impossibility. I'd pretty much ran out of shit by the time I got to the toilet. Once in the cubicle I stripped off and began the process of cleaning myself. Bearing in mind that with trousers, pants, socks and shoes all contaminated with my unholy matter, it was no easy task. To make it a bit more interesting fate had decided that the shift in the workshop would finish now and that the entire workshop staff would need a piss. The laughter as they spotted my shitty under-crackers lying shittily on the floor, just close enough to the door to be visible to the outside world, will haunt me for a very long time.

They left eventually, I finished the task but despite the best efforts I still stank of shit and had wet trousers so I ventured out back to the meeting room and gingerly popped my head round the door to make my excuses and leave. I waited in the car for my colleague thanking my stars that we had taken my car. I never did tell him the truth about why I never made it in to the meeting room.

And to this day I smile when I cast my mind back to that day and to the fact that in the cistern of one of the cubicles in their workshop floats a pair of shitty ASDA under crackers, concealed out of sight but certainly not out of mind.
(Mr Teatime, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 19:15, Reply)

Erm
I shat in my dad's flower pot.

That filthy enough? (I was young)
(Ellytots Last thought of chocolate on, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 19:14, Reply)

Ok not shit related but happened in a toilet cubicle
One for the ladies, this story.

When my youngest sister was about 3 or 4 years old we were out shopping and I had to go to the loo. Of course her being a toddler, I couldn't leave her outside the cubicle so I took her in with me. At the time I was on the blob and after having done the deed, realised that my tampon needed changing. But, how to change it with my sister a foot in front of me and as all toddlers are, far too curious for their own good. Haha! I had an idea. I asked her to check that the door lock was properly closed, a job she relished as it was important in her eyes. As she turned and in what seemed like the blink of an eye, I got rid of the old tampon, got a new one out of my bag, took off the wrapper and inserted it just as she turned back. Of course being the clever little thing that she is, she knew something was up and kept looking puzzled as I pulled up my pants and got ready to leave. She was even more puzzled by the fact I was laughing like a mad women all the way out of the facilities.

From telling this story to my family, I have thus been christened, Ninja tampon women.
( girlinthehole, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 19:10, 5 replies)

this
www.b3ta.com/questions/farting/post84805
( St. Defenestration The REAL one, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 19:09, Reply)

A few weeks ago I was driving home from my girlfriends before going to work.
It's about a 45 minute drive usually. As soon as I got into the car I knew I had a severe chocolate hostage situation that could only end badly. I thought to myself, "come on old chap, you can make it home, it's not that long..." But this was no ordinary shit, it had The Rage and wanted to see the world.

I'm pretty certain I got an idea of what contractions must feel like for preggers women. They came every few minutes and I had to concentrate so hard to hold the shit in that I was all over the road.

It actually got to the point where I thought quietly to myself, "would it be that bad if I actually shit myself in my car?"

I didn't make it home. But luckily, I didn't shit myself either - there was a McDonalds at the side of the road about 30 mins into the journey. I sprinted in and was undoing my trousers while running through the restaurant. I literally only just made it. It was fucking heroic. It felt amazing to be finally free to let rip and I destroyed that pan.

Also, my mate Elliot keeps a meticulous poo diary that I highly recommend.
( HappyBadger, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 19:08, Reply)

Any crane drivers?
A colleague years ago told me that when the guys who drive the really high construction cranes need a shit, they do it in their sock then fuck it out the window. Is there any truth in this?
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 19:05, 1 reply)

Open the pod bay doors hal
Background : My work requires me to climb radio masts on a regular basis.

On that note, I always always *always* need a jobbie before I start climbing - it's not nerves, more a routine, because you can't really have a shit when you're 40m up and hanging from a rope.

I also always make a point of photographing my doings and sending the picture to my colleagues - one such beauty found it's way round our office with the caption "YORKIE: IT'S NOT FOR GIRLS"

On one occassion I've had a customer pick up a component bag with a whopper of a turd in it and put it in their car along with the site rubbish for disposal. I never said anything (they were twunts as it happens).

Jobbies are great
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 19:03, Reply)

Phoenix festival
My first festival, aged 16, and I was keen to experience everything that goes with living outdoors for a weekend surrounded by hippies...except one thing. The bogs were foul, and despite eating pretty much constantly for the entire weekend (they had just brought out Doritos in the UK, and were giving away free packets the whole time) I lasted for three days without shitting at all.

Got home and out it came - like a fucking battleship, it was. But a word of caution for anyone who might be tempted to emulate this behaviour, it also brought down my first pile. Didn't tell anyone about that for years afterwards...
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 18:52, Reply)

Beetroot...
...does not digest well when you're 5 years old. Shocked by the resultant red poo the next day, I have not touched beetroot again, 30 years later!
(Rumbling Bear rumbled on, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 18:52, 1 reply)

Well she was only little at the time ....
.
but my eldest daughter managed to stink out the entire customer toilets in Lewis's Edinburgh shop.

We were out (browsing more than shopping) when she whispered the magic words,

"Mummy, I need a poop."

As any parent can testify, this is not a warning to be ignored. I immediately headed for Lewis's to use their toilets, always sparklingly clean and not often very busy.

We found a cubicle, entered, and I plonked her on the toilet 'cos her little legs didn't quite reach. She did the deed, and as I bent over to clean her up, the stench hit me. One of the worst things I have ever smelled. She'd been at her gran's for tea the day before and god only knows what the old dear had fed her. It was heavy on the garlic, I knew that much!

Never before in her life had she nearly made me puke. Like every other parent I know, I was generally immune to the noxious smell produced by an otherwise innocent looking child. This one was different.

I can only describe the smell as a mixture of something long-dead and a garlic filled room. I was gagging as I cleaned her up, and was never so glad to get out of a toilet cubicle in my life.

When we moved to the sinks to wash our hands, I swear the smell followed like a faithful hound. Two elderly ladies came in, sniffed, and looked around in utter disgust. They seemed convinced someone hadn't flushed, and muttered abut complaining to the manager. I'd love to have witnessed that conversation. To my relief, they never even considered that my small, incredibly cute toddler, or even my not-so-small self, could be responsible for the stench.

We left in great haste and it was some time before I returned to that shop. I was actually slightly surprised that the stench had gone when we (as usual) had to pay a visit to the Ladies loo.
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Thu 27 Mar 2008, 18:32, Reply)

Ski poo
Altitude always gives me the shits. Don't know why. So this year was staying with a very posh and prim schoolmate, making necessary visitations but keeping the situation under control.

After a hard day on the slopes we met up for some alcohol fuelled apres, and after a generous amount of beer I unsurprisingly needed to pee. The very very clean loos were closed for cleaning so I drew everyone's attention to this then when they finally opened I went for my wee. Ahhhhhh.

On standing to replace trousers I made the mistake of farting. A high powered jet of noxious orange lumpy liquid went everywhere. I am drunk, in ski boots, in a toilet cubicle. Both it and me are covered in shit and there is very little paper.

So I make the best of it with what resources I have, and concentrate mainly on cleaning self up. And the toilet brush for I had filled the top section with the handle on completely with my liquid offerings.

I take a deep breath and compose myself hoping I can sneak unnoticed out of very-freshly-but now-sadly-soiled toilet. But outside, queueing to come in is my mate.

She never mentioned it, bless her...
(roadrunner, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 18:29, Reply)

Never, ever assume your mate has gone home
Picture the scene:
A few mates have gone on holiday to Budapest for a couple of days, the night before we'd watched Liverpool win in the champs league (typical brits but it was our one failing).
On this holiday were the 3 Muskateers:
Myself - recently single and on a bit of a bender
A - (Name obscured to protect him) A single lad about town who will shag anything, animal, vegetable or mineral.
T - Another friend who is in a happy, stable relationship so as a result is staying in a few nights.

Scene now set, it's the night after the Liverpool match and T is staying in. A and I have decided to check ou one of the bars in Buda that was recommended in the lonely planet called Szoda (great place, recommend it if you ever go there)

We're having a great laugh, the beer is flowing and we are playing shithead (again). As the evening goes on the we get chatting to a couple of English lads and some Danes. The beer is still flowing, prompting many trip to the loo, problem is that the toilet secreted away somewhere, it was like the crystal fucking maze to find it.

Here's where it gets interesting, we're all chatting away and the next thing I know is that A has transmogrified into a pile of puke (in the ashtray and everything) and has left his jacket, he must have gone back cos he's too pissed thinks I, so we head off to the 24 hour bar and enjoy the night.

I am then told the story of what happened to A, it appears that no, he didn't go home when he was sick, he decided that he should go the toilet

Where he fell asleep. On the toilet. Without lifting the seat up or taking his keks down. And prompted to shit himself.

A awoke at 4AM in the crystal maze toilet in pitch black covered in shite. He managed to wake the owner of the bar and nearly got a beating for it but escaped by proving that all English are dozy retards when drunk.

Headed back to the room in the hostel with his godawful smell and as he enters the door T wakes up, takes a sniff and asks in all sincerity
'Have you just shit?'

When I was regaled with this story the next morning and seeing the expression of shame and disgust on A's face I couldn't help but laugh at T's comment, it was fucking hilarious, thankfully A saw the funny side so we went out and got trollied again!

Good times and apologies for length but it fucking stunk!
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 18:19, Reply)

She seemed like such a nice girl
A while ago I was at a combined birthday party/house leaving party for a mates girlfriend and her housemates. Part way through the night one of said housemates excuses herself to leave early, sighting being tired and needing some sleep.

Roll forwards a few hours to when the rest of the party make their way back to the flat, in search of food, more alcohol and in my case, somewhere to take a much needed piss.

The door to the flat was unlocked, but would still not open, the chain was on the door, which is fair enough, given its not the most salubrious of areas. The girl is shouted, and answers that she'll open the door in a minute. Minute goes by, still no luck, more minutes go by, and even less luck, and by now, my bladder felt like it was making its own bid for freedom.

Eventually the door is opened, and I politely rush past the girl and into the toilet.

"Jesus christ" is what issues forth from my mouth, before I very nearly puke from the sight and smell before me.

The girl in question had seemingly spent the entire time we were outside the door, alternatively having the squits and puking in the toilet. And had capped it off, with what appeared to be an entire toilet roll.

I would describe this girl as skinny, very slight of figure, not tall, and myself as a relatively big, not particularly healthy guy. But even after a night of beer and curry I couldn't produce the horrific smell that she had generated, it was satans own brand.

So amid the stinging eyes, and boking, I took my much needed piss, all was good. Until, I erred on the wrong 50-50 choice of flushing. It didn't go anywhere, and the water gradually rose. Thankfully it didn't go over the rim, but it was no longer of use to anyone.

I sheepishly explained to the house hosts what had happened, and how much of it was my doing.

I suggested an unfolded coat hanger as the unblocker to use, and it was done. No more foul smell and foul sights.

The only remaining issue was where to put the hanger, and so it was, that an unfolded, shitty, sicky, wet coat hanger was thrown from a flats balcony to meet it's doom.

No apologies for length, it was the volume that caused the problems.
(ShiftyBastard won the World Cup on World Soccer Champs 2010!, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 18:14, Reply)

Broken in slowly
I think myself lucky that I have been slowly weaned onto the horrors that is the non western-style crapper.

1. first experience in france at the tender age of 14. Not bad, least it was on a camp site.

2. Tokyo !!! the squat capital of the WORLD!! What can I say, 4 months and my sphicters had almost turned to stone.

3. However nothing could prepare me for the quaint old communal plumbing to be found in your average chinese hotel - complete with garden hose to sluice it all down.

4. For "Nappy" read "No backside in your Romper Suite" - no really.

I toned it down a little on the last two, because I like China.
( buffet_the_appetite_slayer ٩(●̮̃•)۶ jacked in to the ICE on, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 18:10, Reply)

no!
I went out on a Friday night, and the following day (my 22nd birthday), went out again. My guts were off from the previous night (here we go...). Was talking to a mate and the barlady at the bar. Went for a poo, I had the runs thanks to the alcohol form the previous night. 10 minutes later, i freshened up and returned to my mate and continued whatever conversation we were having. I noticed my mate was staring at my face in horror. I say 'What's the matter?!?!' and he quietly mouthed 'You've got sh*t on your face'.
I ran to the the toilet, and indeed, I DID have faeces on my face, a smear from my chin to my cheek. What made it worse (apart from the barmaid seeing this), is that I could smell something sh*tty when I first left the toilet. Haven't got a clue how it got there!!
I also told everyone what happened that night, including some girl I had been trying to 'impress' for ages, and she just didn't want to know.
I must've wiped my bum and got a bit on my finger, and then just randomnly touched my face. Was horrified the next day that I'd told so many people about it. All night, people were calling me Captain Sh*tbeard!!
(Nibi, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 18:06, Reply)