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)