Notable ploppies I have done:
The Richard of York who gave battle in vain
A few years ago I went on a school trip to New York for five days. We ate out for absolutely all our meals, and five days of restaurant fodder with no normal home-made food (not even school dinner-style slop at the hotel) isn't good for the old bowels. We had virtually no fibre at all, and we had fruit once out of those five days. This was a real shock to my system, as although I wasn't yet a vegan I still liked to chomp my way through enough fruit and veg to fell an orang-utan daily.
As a consequence of this, I didn't shit until the day before we were going home. It was a huge dry monster that took 20 minutes to come out. When it did, I felt about a stone lighter, and I saw it had stayed in one long log instead of breaking off in soft plops. Okay, it was no barium bab, but it's probably as close as I'll get (I hope).

The Snoop Doggy Logg
I went to Live8. It was rubbish. The most rubbish aspect of it all was the toilets. Put me right off the idea of ever going to a music festival, that did. By the time Snoop Dogg was on stage, which if I remember rightly was barely halfway through the evening, the chemi-khazis were already nearly full of soggy wee-y loo roll.
I needed a poove. Any port in a storm, I suppose. So I did a Mr. Whippy, balanced on the top of this papier mache hillock. It was perfect. I mean totally perfect. Mathematical dead centre of the mound, perfectly smooth and unblemished and evenly consistent. If only I'd had a cocktail stick flag to jam in it. I feel sorry for the woman who ventured towards the cubicle I'd just vacated, despite my warning of, "I wouldn't go in there if I were you."

Losing my virginity
My pooing-outdoors viginity, that is. Last year I went on a field trip to Spain. Apparently, somebody gets the shits every year on that trip. That year, that somebody was me.
On a long, hot, dusty road, I was getting increasingly frantic as we were an unknown distance from that day's destination, with no guarantee there would be loo facilities there (most of the fieldwork that trip was in the middle of No-fucking-Where). Eventually I was forced to plead with the lecturers to make the driver stop the coach there and then by the road.
Shaking with panic and relief, I all but threw myself down the coach's steps, lifted a boulder up and proceeded to squat down and shit out last night's asparagus and spinach, still green (though pallid) and in disturbingly intact chunks. My position made it easy to tilt my head down and watch it coming out, which I did in morbid fascination. It was oddly gloopy.
Luckily, I had pockets stuffed with tissues, with which I tidied myself up. Then I rolled the boulder back and got back on the coach. However, I hadn't been perfect in tossing the bumwipes back onto the poo, so the replaced boulder had a 'tutu' of scrunched up bumf. It drew cries of horror from everyone in the coach who'd dared to look, which satisfied me greatly (as well as someone saying, "It was worth coming to Spain just for that").
Hilariously, our field exercise for that day was speed logging. Cue jokes of "Anna's already done hers!"

Arse-tria
On a ski trip to Austria, I shared a hotel room with four other people. I took great delight in doing a big shit, then opening the door and pulling/pushing it to waft the smell all through the bedroom. And I'd fart in bed and then wave the duvet to waft the fart all through the room. Pretty nasty behaviour, but my room-mates couldn't help laughing as well, and I did stop when they eventually asked me to. One of my room-mates could fanny-fart at will as well. Genius. We'd do farting frog choruses with each of us using a different bottom (her front and my back).

Also, my brother once fell asleep on his front with no clothes on, and pooed in his sleep. It went upwards in a spiral.
( Bob Todd whee, Fri 28 Mar 2008, 11:37, 1 reply)

farting frog choruses
"We'd do farting frog choruses with each of us using a different bottom (her front and my back)."

Brilliant! Nice mental image.

The 'frog chorus' bit made me think of Paul McCartney's "We All Stand Together". You two could do the frog-chorus while your three non-farting room-mates would be the singers.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Fri 28 Mar 2008, 17:23, closed)