Oh fucking hell....
... it's embarrassing how many shit stories are flooding my mind now.

The same mate who had the mussel incident (whom i lived with at the time) had the shits. Separate occasion, months/years later.

He was in bed, ill, quaffing pepto bismol or whatever and trying to recover.
After a day or so, we were going out and asked him if he was up to it to which he replied he was.
So we're all downstairs (me, another mate and the ill persons gf, now wife) waiting for him.

Down he comes looking pleased as punch, and announces "i can now fart with confidence - i'm all better", at which point he lifted his leg onto the arm of the chair, strained, and shat himself right in front of us - all ceremoniously.

The look of horror on his face was superb. We cried. In fact, i've been crying in the office writing these. I cant tell my colleagues why i'm shaking and crying with laughter either.
"I'm recalling stories about shit". It's not that kind of job.

No apologies for anything. Ever.
(beebolbod for those that are hard of hearing - LISTEN, Thu 3 Apr 2008, 13:25, Reply)