I grew up in Hull...
...if thats not enough. My school had a big problem with graffiti and toilets being destroyed on a regular basis, which led to the head teacher locking ALL the bogs. This meant that every time you had to lay a cable you had to ask the lesson teacher, then go to the deputy-head, get key, shit, return key, return to class to be jeered at for having a crap (even if you only had a wazz). Like most kids I wanted to survive school without being named bab-man etc... One morning just after assembley I needed a turd BIGTIME but decided to wait till lunch, go home and let the lads out there. Complications arose and I found myself having to stay at school, turd DENIED!!!
I somehow managed to turtlehead my way to the end of the school day and left like a shot at 15:30. Making my way home looking like one of those Fast Walking atheletes in the Olympics. I made it to about half a mile from home when the beast broke down the doors. A very solid and warm, Mars-bar sized, item had arrived in my pants. I was wearing boxers at the time and was able to do the jiggle and flick to get it down my trouser-leg and away. The rest of the way home was a battle to keep the poo-Malteesers from getting lodged in my shoes.

Boxers were ruined, soon discarded into the wheeliebin and a shower was in order to deal with my shit caked arse and right leg.

Sorry about the length, at least it wasn't runny...
(Mr.Dog was in love again on, Fri 28 Mar 2008, 19:09, Reply)