Using my initiative
Whilst still a student me and my friends used to frequent a rather dodgy club in Luton town centre called Mirage. One of the main reasons we used to go there was the availability of bottled Carlsberg Special Brew behind the bar, a godsend when you have hardly any money as when it's ice cold in bottles it doesn't taste too bad - and it certainly did the job with regards to getting us pissed.

Anyway, we were in Mirage and were imbibing said Special Brew with the sort of gusto you normally only see tramps display. We were totally ruined - dancing like morons, leching on all the girls.... it was a travesty. That was until I found a set of car keys on the floor. Keys that had the car's registration number attached to it via a key fob. In my drunken mind I started hatching a plot to have a bit of a joyride as the car was most probably parked in the multi-storey car park across the road. This was a stupid idea considering 1) I had never driven before, and 2) I could barely stand.

Not one to be deterred by these facts I left the club in search of the car these keys belonged to. I think I managed to search for about 20 minutes before I felt the first rumblings in my stomach. I upped the pace of my search as the way my stomach was feeling I might need to take a dump in the back of the car! I think I made it another 10 minutes and then the need to shit became so urgent that I had to make a dash to the stairwell to try and find a place to shit.

Once I was perched at the top of the stairwell I crouched down and let rip. Once I had finished I looked down at my work and was horrified - this was a work of pure evil. It didn't resemble a log at all, it was just a huge pile of steaming shit. It was all over the floor with some light spattering against the stairwell wall for good measure, God knows what mess it had made of my arse on the way out.

I searched frantically for something to wipe my arse with but drew a blank as there was nothing to hand unsurprisingly, and broadening the search would have only spread the chocolate further. A two mile walk home with that much fudge on my arse cheeks didn't bear thinking about. Suddenly, I had a novel idea of a way of wiping my arse. I parted my arse cheeks rested my caked balloon knot against the cold steel handrail... and slid down, transferring the shit from my arse to the handrail in one effortless movement. Thinking I was onto a good thing )and wanting to make sure my arse was spotless) I then slid down the rest of the rails, all the way to the bottom of the stairwell.

Apologies for length - 6 flights at the last count.
(kabukisteve, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 15:06, Reply)