Recycling the same old shit, part two...
More scuba-diving poo related shenanigans...

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For the last 10 years I have belonged to a local scuba diving club (not that I’ve done any diving for the last 2 years, but that’s another story). Now, the club has had its fair share of ‘interesting’ members in the past, and ‘Dave’ was no exception (not real name, obviously).

But first, some background.

Our club is based in the north east of England, and therefore we do most of our diving off the north east coast. Not exactly tropical, but surprisingly there are some stunning dives to be had. There’s some absolute shit as well, but… Anyway, as the water temperature varies from ‘bloody hell it’s a bit nippy’ to ‘AAAAAAGGGHHH IT’S FREEZING’ we wear dry suits, and several layers of thermals underneath.

A drysuit, for the non-initiated, is exactly that - it keeps you dry. It’s made of heavy duty material, like neoprene, sealed at the neck and wrists, and most of them you have to climb into through a zip at the back. You’re then zipped up by someone else, and away you go.

Back to Dave. At the time the club had its own boat – an 8m, rigid hull Tornado inflatable – bloody fast, probably the fastest boat of its type anywhere on the north east coast. A troop of hardy divers had headed out to sea for a day’s diving. Good weather, decent sea state, all very jolly and nice. Most of the divers are down scrabbling on the bottom of the north sea, leaving Dave, the cox and another diver on board.

‘Christ’ says Dave, 'I’m dying for the bog'.

‘Well, just go off the end of the boat’, says the cox.

‘I can’t do that’ says Dave, ‘what if someone sees’?

‘Dave, we’re 3 miles out to sea and there’s not another boat in sight. Who’s gonna see you’?

‘Yeah, but you never know’, bleats Dave, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

‘Look, no one is going to see you, there’s only three of us on the boat, the rest aren’t going to be back up for a while yet, just go off the end of the bloody boat will you? Do something daring for once in your life’.

Panic and desperation setting in, Dave reluctantly decides to go off the end of the boat. Once unzipped from his dry suit, he clambers up onto the engine housing and ducks under the A-frame. The other 2 on the boat, either in deference to Dave’s shyness, or possibly just indifferent to his plight, continue to scan the waters for signs of divers off the bow. However, they are alerted to an odd sound from the back of the boat, and thinking Dave may have slipped, turned to look…

…To see Dave, drysuit round his ankles and holding onto the A-frame, curling one off into the depths of the north sea.

Thank god there were no divers surfacing at that point. I would imagine the sight of a 16 stone, hairy arsed diver having a shit off the end of a boat could be quite disturbing…
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Mon 31 Mar 2008, 12:44, Reply)