Holy shit!
I was in Italy staying with a local family when my alimentary canal produced something of a national sensation.

The familial toilet was one of those continental ones where you squat over a ceramic tray and place your feet on specified spaces. Not ideal - but I got used to using it. One day, after a particularly heavy Italian meal lasting three hours, I spent about 20 minutes on this crapper, shifting my weight about to keep comfortable. On standing, I was amused to note that the turd I had produced looked uncannily like the face of Lord Jesus, his countenance a vision of serenity. It was a passing thought and I looked for a bucket to flush the brownster away. No water - I slunk off to find some, hoping that no one would happen upon the soiled WC.

The next thing I heard was a wailing. Clearly, someone had wanted to use the toilet and found my mess. I raced back to the lav to discover the elderly grandmother on her knees muttering what I took to be a prayer and raising her eyes to heaven in thanks for the glory of my Divine dump. I made to wash the offending chod away, but I was roughly manhandled to the ground by the whiskery old cuss.

Before I knew it, the local priest had been called and villagers were flooding to view the miraculous scat I had wrought. "It's just a shit!" I complained. But they paid no heed. There were soon dozens of people prostrating themselves at my still steaming crap, which maintained its uncanny resemblance. If anything, it looked even more beatific. The 'bearded face' seemed to bestow a blessing on all who beheld it, and the eyes were full of compassion for a world gone astray. A tear came to many an eye, but this was due largely to the hideous reek of shite.

Well, the media were there by the afternoon and the Catholic church had issued a statement saying that the ceramic toilet tray was to be enshrined for all of Italy to see. In the coming months, enterprising locals would be selling tap water to gullible tourists as holy water. A crippled girl jumped out her wheelchair and did and impomptu performance of "Singin' in the Rain" as her blind mother suddenly read the barcode off a passing satellite. Serial killers handed themselves into the police all over the nation, and a t-shirt bearing the scatological image became a bestselling item.

Of course, I didn't get a thing. Not a word of thanks. It was my arse that had produced the miracle. Fortunately, after leaving Italy, I wound up in Jordan, where I was amused to shat out a calligraphic prayer from the Koran that made me an instant star, earning me my own TV show: "Frank Shits Miracles."

Happy days.
(frankspencer, Sun 30 Mar 2008, 20:30, 4 replies)

You've excelled yourself
This week's best of page is sure to be a Frank whitewash. This one ^ gets my vote as Supreme Winner (er, so far, as it's only half way through...)

*gets RSI in the right index finger from furious clicking*
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Sun 30 Mar 2008, 21:45, closed)

If this doesn't win, it will indeed be a slur agains the prophet himself
*click*
(Cuthbert Annihilator, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 2:14, closed)

It's a miracle!


funny too...
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Mon 31 Mar 2008, 4:01, closed)

Koran?
*burns embassy*
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 10:57, closed)