how not to win friends and influence people
many moons ago i was embarked, along with a bunch of other lucky mid-teens, on my expedition for my duke of edingburgh's award. 555 miles through the lake district with a rucksack full of junk.
i had run out fo water, and decided to fill my canteen from the delightful clear cold mountain spring... i did use puritabs, however i was eager and foolish, and didn't let em work.


so i caught cryptosporidium- being as how there was only the minimum number of people to allow the trip, if i had dropped out, i would have meant all of us going home. so i soldiered on, periodically stopping to shit rusty water/puke.
after two days, we finished, and as a treat our team leader bought us all a chinese, and some beers. i was feeling marginally better, so i took full advantage of this. gorging myself on chinese, i sat merrily in the little bus heading back to conrwall.

about 30mins from the nearest motorway services, the horrors took me. i was pale, sweating, leaking little parps and toots of the most foul, sulphurous gas you can imagine. for a while, i genuinely considered shitting out of the back doors of the minibus, girls present or not. as we pulled in to the service station, i threw the sliding door open, and hit the ground at a dead run. barely making it to the toilet, i dropped trow, and unleashed... a small rather mediocre fart.
confused, i decided discretion to be the better part of valour. i sat tight.
as i heard the rest of the guys in the group, trop in, i felt a rumble.. then all hell broke loose. the toilet was, alas, a stainless steel monstrosity, with tiled walls and floor.. the acoustics could rival the sydney opera house. i unleashed something that is most closely likened to someone launching a bucket of irish stew and peanuts through a jet engine, the place reverberated to the sound of my frantically spasming bowels, and my gentle whimpers... as the noise died away, i heard another, unmistakeable noise.. the sound of muffled laughter. as i emerged form the cubicle, pale and traumatised, to be greeted with the sight of several grown men trying not to laugh too hard while pissing, and my entire group in sitches, and a horrified-looking cleaner with a bucket.

poor bastard.


poor poor bastard.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 4:52, 2 replies)

Click
"Irish stew and peanuts through a jet engine"

Great line
( KISS.ME.WHERE.I.POO Signed the sex offenders register on, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 11:59, closed)

Ha ha
Irish stew through jet engine. Me also likey. Click!
(Dr Funkenstein - back in the civilised world, Thu 3 Apr 2008, 2:05, closed)