I vowed never to tell this.
But…
I once went to a party at a friend’s house. The party itself was nothing spectacular, what was spectacular was my amazing ability to get blindingly drunk very quickly.

This story kicks off just as the party has ended, and everyone has either gone home or passed out, I rose from my stupor and felt that familiar rising feeling in my gut. Knowing what was going to happen I quickly ran outside and puked on my (now ex) mate’s doorstep.

That’s when the worst thing ever happened. I shat myself. And it wasn’t you average run-of-the-mill shit, oh no, I’d been drinking Guinness all night so what came out was jet-black and smelt of manure.
Panicking I decided, in my drunken haze, that the best idea was to walk calmly and carefully to his toilet and clean myself up. Mistake number one. This resulted in me trailing shit through his hallway, living room and kitchen.
I cleaned myself up as best I could and decided that to fully finish this “I’ve not shat myself” look I needed some deodorant, to cover the smell of rotting cow dung, so I went up to my friends room to get some. Mistake number two. I walked back through my own shit and ended up trailing it back though the kitchen, living room and hallway, but this time I also trailed it upstairs and into his bedroom. I grabbed some deodorant and ran off into the night.

I’ve not returned to my hometown or seen my (ex) friend since.

EDIT: err... all that was about someone i know, not me, honest.
( Taxman, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 14:18, Reply)