Shit Stories: Part Number Two
As a regular service to our readers, we've been re-opening old questions.
Once again, we want to hear your stories of shit, poo and number twos. Go on - be filthier than last time.
( , Thu 27 Mar 2008, 14:57)
As a regular service to our readers, we've been re-opening old questions.
Once again, we want to hear your stories of shit, poo and number twos. Go on - be filthier than last time.
( , Thu 27 Mar 2008, 14:57)
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The biggest poo, ever
I had been granted an audience with the Turkish Prime Minister. Recep Tayyip Erdogan was to come to our luxuriously appointed hotel in the centre of Istanbul to answer questions on his country's national day.
The trouble was, as I sat on the throne in my 12th floor suite, I had a turd that wasn't going anywhere.
"BLUUUUUUMPH!" it had gone and emerged - not word of a lie - a good eighteen inches long, a testament to the rich Turkish diet.
It sat there, scowling at me, in the toilet, refusing to disappear. Flush after flush - the thing was made of ferro-concrete and even defied a good thumping with the toilet brush.
In the end, I arrived - only seconds late - for the PM's arrival, with only one thing on my mind: The Black Sea Monster, which remained, unflushed somewhere on the hotel's top floor.
I got back to my room an hour later, and it had gone. Instead, there was a note. It was in Turkish, which I showed to the waiter in the rooftop bar.
He laughed.
"What? What does it say?"
"You dirty, dirty bastard dog!"
Woof.
( , Mon 31 Mar 2008, 12:12, 4 replies)
I had been granted an audience with the Turkish Prime Minister. Recep Tayyip Erdogan was to come to our luxuriously appointed hotel in the centre of Istanbul to answer questions on his country's national day.
The trouble was, as I sat on the throne in my 12th floor suite, I had a turd that wasn't going anywhere.
"BLUUUUUUMPH!" it had gone and emerged - not word of a lie - a good eighteen inches long, a testament to the rich Turkish diet.
It sat there, scowling at me, in the toilet, refusing to disappear. Flush after flush - the thing was made of ferro-concrete and even defied a good thumping with the toilet brush.
In the end, I arrived - only seconds late - for the PM's arrival, with only one thing on my mind: The Black Sea Monster, which remained, unflushed somewhere on the hotel's top floor.
I got back to my room an hour later, and it had gone. Instead, there was a note. It was in Turkish, which I showed to the waiter in the rooftop bar.
He laughed.
"What? What does it say?"
"You dirty, dirty bastard dog!"
Woof.
( , Mon 31 Mar 2008, 12:12, 4 replies)
I once read somewhere
that the maximum length of the human colon was 14 inches, and therefore shites could be no longer than this.
I was convinced that I'd dropped some in the past which, although appearing in several sections, added up to longer than this. But of course I then realised the subtlety....
Extrusion.
( , Mon 31 Mar 2008, 12:53, closed)
that the maximum length of the human colon was 14 inches, and therefore shites could be no longer than this.
I was convinced that I'd dropped some in the past which, although appearing in several sections, added up to longer than this. But of course I then realised the subtlety....
Extrusion.
( , Mon 31 Mar 2008, 12:53, closed)
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