And another.
In a wetherspoons pub in St. Albans on New Year's Eve a few friends and I were enjoying a quiet drink. The drink led to urination and I had to go to the bogs on the floor above.

When I stagger in I see the floor is flooded with water so I think in a drunken haze that it's just water. I do the business, flush the toilet and wander out again, noticing the tiles seem to have become a shade more yellow.

Downstairs I get nother drink and continue the socialising when before long the ceiling begins to crack and drips start forming. A little bit later a bloke puts some buckets down and they begin to fill with, you guessed it, piss.

Some fell on Matt's shoulder, which served him right for being a knob a lot of the time.
(ElectricMonk is falling awake on, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 12:16, Reply)

Lovely bathroom
A friend of mine had a house party a few years ago. During the party a friend became very drunk and tried to be sick in the bath.

Here's the history:

The bathroom was in very poor nick at the time and the bath was positioned over their kitchen on the floor below. Over the years water damage and a lack of tiles had made a great big gap between the bath and the wall and subsequently whenever anyone had a shower the water would drip from the bath into the kitchen.

Alas, poor Matt leaned over to the bath too fast and didn't have his head at the correct angle. One projectile vomit later and the people in the kitchen have to avoid the vomit dripping from the kitchen ceiling.
(ElectricMonk is falling awake on, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 12:12, Reply)

How could I forget?
When I was a kid, about 6 or 7, I was larking about one winter's day when I got caught short.

Being a nipper, I thought nothing of grabbing a dock-leaf and curling one down behind the hill. Having laid a magnificent 10 inch cable, I was wiping up and admiring my steaming handiwork, when a small dog nipped by, picked up my loaf and tossed his head back, swallowing the still steaming turd in one clean gulp - The coup de grace of course was when it's master turned up, and the dog, happy after a warm square meal, ran up and licked the poor fucker right on the face:-D
(Jay Tea, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 12:03, Reply)

Caught short out one day with baaad guts
ran into Burger King and straight to the lavs. single gents cubicle is taken, so rushed into the disabled one. It was great; spacey and they even had a bar to hang onto for dear life as your entire digestive system explodes out. With the deed done, and amazed at the horrific stench i had just birthed, i wonder why there is a lightswitch lead hanging next to the toilet, and secondarily why is it red? I pulled the lead out of curiosity but the lights stayed on. As i leave into the corridor, the most hapless of all the workers runs past me into the toilet panicking expecting to find a fallen cripple. All he found was a pebble dashed pan (no brush) and a fucking awful reek, enough to make him scream and retch. I nearly pooed a little more from laughing at him.
( Ulic hissing slightly, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 12:03, Reply)

Rule Brtittania!!
.
I once bumped into a Royal Navy chap who had the honour of serving in the Royal Yacht Britannia. We were on a course together and as military men do we got extraordinarily pissed and swapped war stories. He was a stoker (which in this day and age does NOT mean shovelling coal), and when not in the bowels of the boat he used to spend his off-duty time in the Stoker's Mess. Behind the bar in the Stoker's Mess they have some trophies..........

When the yacht goes out with the Royal Family it is in pristine condition....everything stationary is cleaned and polished, everything mobile is nailed down, then cleaned and polished. Even the toilets and associated storage tanks are clean as can be. So if a member of the Royal Family takes a dump in the stateroom, then the only turd in that storage tank will be a 'Royal Turd'. So it's scooped out, sprayed with parafin wax to preserve it, then proudly displayed in a jar behind the bar in the Stoker's Mess.

Over the course of a few trips they've collected samples of every single Royal who's ever grunted and strained on board that ship. Even Princess Di crimped off a length, but some bastard tried to nick and sell it on e-bay after she snuffed it in Paris.

I've seen the pictures. The stoker swears blind it's all true. What do you think?
(Conundrum, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 12:00, Reply)

More arse capers...
I was hanging around Toronto a few years ago, and one morning we were due to meet some friends at an out of town mall. I breakfasted on what I thought was a Herta type hotdog, cold from the fridge as you do, only do discover on the packet as I licked my fingers that they were not pre-cooked. Ah-well, what harm could that possibly do me?

Driving on the motorway a few tremendoud farts were followed by that ominous gurgling noise, and I realised that i'd need to toilet soon or there were going to be problems. The closer we got to this mall the worse my bowels boiled and turned. We entered the mall and I was immediately off in search of the shitter - eventually, and with seconds to spare, I saw the Gents - never a happier sight have I seen, I darted in and saw about a dozen cubicles, but to my horror they were all occupied with bastards trumping away to their heart's content.

Except the last stall, the blessed disabled cubicle. In I went, sparkling clean, plenty of bum fodder, I whipped down the kegs and with nary a second to spare voided my noxious guts, adding to the farty cacophany of the room.

Upon exiting, there was a small, crusty looking man, squatting on the edge of the sink opposite holding empty plastic bags. As soon as I vacated the cubicle he was in, and proceeded to fish about in the pan. He was saddened by the fact that i'd flushed, and I walked away shaking my head, but with a certain spring in my step.
(Jay Tea, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 11:51, Reply)

Japanese tourists and Brits abroad
have a tendency not to close the door behind them (well at least when they visited my home town, hence the high number of time I have opened the door to a cubicule and found someone on the seat.

Also my brother in law on his 1st encounter with a Turkish toilet sat on the hole. (he was only 5 at the time, but his mum still likes telling this story at family reunion)
(albator, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 11:43, Reply)

some things you just can't un-see...
i used to work as a dooman in Reading, one routine night i get called to the gents to act as backup for a drugs bust. nothing out of the ordinary there, we'd been having trouble with dealers and had 'dealt' with a few already. i arrive at the toilets and my colleague puts the little key thing in and silently give's it a turn. we wrench the door open to find three blokes inside giving eachother handjobs!

i can't decide though if that's worse than the guy who jumped the queue for the toilets on sunday morning at donnington monsters of rock festival a few years back... these things were so full that you had to stand and add to the tower of excement 8 inches above the bowl.
anyway, several people were a tad peeved by this chap's queue jumping antics and so they waited a minute or so before running round behind and pushing the whole thing over onto the door.
needless to say noone rushed to the stricken rocker's aid as effluent poured from any and every hole in the upturned turdis accompanied by screams interspursed with the sound of vomiting...
(elphantasmo for xmas i want santa's list of naughty girls!, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 11:43, Reply)

A drunk
mate at a party decided to snog the resident hose beast in the upstairs lav - only for this to be discovered by the rest of us, who banged insistently on the door for him 'get that minger's twat out of your mouth'.

Forshamed, he decided there was only one thing for it and climbed out of the window of the toilet - a very tight recess to the top of the pane. Going out headfirst and resting his palms of the roof of the conservatory, below which the party was in full swing, he slipped and plummeted head first through the plastic sheeting, landing on a party goer friend, breaking her collar bone and smashing his foot through my CD player

Party over

Uber mong!
(saltydogstar, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 11:41, Reply)

Sports day
I pooed on someone during a piggy back race. I was 16.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 11:35, Reply)

Dodgy man
When I was about 12, my parents and I stopped at a motorway service station for a pee break. I started weeing away at the urinal. A man came and started weeing next to me.
Not odd, except for the fact that the loos were basically deserted, and there was a long line of about 30 urinals he could have chosen. But it gets worse.

Slightly perturbed I went to the other end of the room to a basin to wash my hands - dirty places, these motorway service stations, not to mention my pre-pubescent private parts. Sure enough, the man comes to use the basin next to me - dozens of others available. But it gets worse.

The man gets his cock out, and starts to wash it in the basin next to me.

As I leave at speed, I don't stop to dry my hands.
(arml, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 11:33, Reply)

Forgot About This One.
Not a very funny story but one that needs to be told.

When I was a student I used to work on an International Work Camp in the Midlands. It was a fantastic place to spend the Summer. A bit like a three-month long festival.

This one year a bunch of Irish girls turned up at the site - about 8 of them as I remember and proceeded to wreak havoc with the male libidos. What is it about Irish girls that turn normally calm men into lust-crazed, testosterone fueled maniacs? Ah well.

Anyway, this one night one of the girls headed off to the bogs, weaving slightly as she was fairly well oiled. I was passing the bogs a few minutes later when I heard horrific screams and could see the flicker of flames coming from the inside of the toilets. Of course, I legged it inside as fast as I could (I could here others running to the toilets in the distance) and was confronted with a locked toilet cubicle where I could see flames and smoke licking over the edge of the stall and frantic terror filled screams coming from the inside. Being a heroic type (at least in my own mind) I stepped back and launched a terrific flying kick at the door of the stall in the hope of rescuing the poor maiden inside. Hey, this is me. Nothing goes to plan. Instead of kicking the door off it's hinges as was my intent, my foot and leg went straight through the door and I was left dangling upside down, tethered by my thigh which was stuck through the door. Then the cavalry arrived and the rest of the lads shoulder-charged the door open (dragging my head bouncing along the concrete) and pulled the burning girl out and smothered the flames. Eventually somebody got round to freeing me.

It later turned out that the girl had a pair of jeans on where the zip had gone and she'd replaced it with a shoe-lace. When she went to the bog she found that she couldn't undo the knot and so tried to burn through it. She had fantastic long black hair and as she leaned forward to burn through the knot, her hair caught fire and that, in turn, set fire to her top. She was months in hospital and pretty badly scarred.

For once, no funny punchline.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 11:24, Reply)

When I was a homeless hippy activist...
...and not just a hippy activist like now, I used to take great joy in using McDonalds' customer toilet while never buying anything from the McEvil McDeforesting McMegaCorporation McBastards. I'd go out of my way to poo in their loo while meandering my days round town. What a fabulous pristine disabled-friendly toilet they had too!

Also, being homeless, I wasn't really inundated with places to take my hippy girlfriend... So, more than once, I took her, roughly in the McDonalds lav: she - bracing herself against the handrail, me - trousers round ankles and doing her till her boobies bounced like swinging water-balloons.

We were clean about it - the in-lav sink gave us excellent washing chances that we'd otherwise miss out on, kipping in squats and under bridges as we did - but the thought that we'd just slightly piss off the McDonalds McStaff was almost what made me hard.
( no cake for the impuritay Patrick Stewart hasn't aged since, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 11:04, Reply)

Two for openers
I used to think that squat thrusts were a gym exercise until I discovered Turkish public toilets.

A few years ago, I used to work for a company that had seven stalls in a row in the gents. Having sneaked away for my crafty nine o clock ciggie one morning, I heard the main door burst open and a frantic huffing and puffing as a bloke ran into the trap next to mine. There was a frantic rustling as he undid his (as it turned out) boilersuit and quickly sat down. What followed was an apalling series of farting and shitting noises interspersed with some "AAAAhhhh, I needed that" type noises. At the end there was some more wiping and rustling type noises followed by a horrific wail as the wanker discovered that he'd failed to pull the boilersuit down far enough and had promptly shat in the back of it. Put me right off my cig it did. the bastard

First Post Woohoo!!
(frightfullybored, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 10:38, Reply)

When I used to work in a call centre
there was a bloke who liked to get a little bit merry. One time after an "all dayer" he was found stuck in a cubicle.
He had fallen asleep, lurched forward, ending up getting his head wedged in the gap between the door and the floor. The only way they could get him out was to lift the door off its hinges.
( Dai_Marzipan Ain't no party like an S Club party, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 10:29, Reply)

Ohh that hurt!
Been a bit blocked up.
Went to take a very needed shit, strained so much my bum now hurts. Had a bead of sweat run down my forehead my eyes are now bloodshot gave myself a nosebleed and now have sposts before my eyes.
All that and all I could manage was something the size of a grape.
(Bad Badger, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 10:28, Reply)

Yet another
For my housewarming party for my apartment in university, I had all my friends over, and they all brought different kinds of liquor. I had a bit of everything. The place was a nice, decent fourth-floor apartment with plenty of room.

Then we went out to a friend's home who had some good weed. When I got up to go, it became apparent how drunk I'd been. I chundered up enough to feed an army in my friend's toilet. They carried me back home.

The first thing I did when I got back was inexplicably climb out of my clothes (except my underwear) and lock myself in the bathroom.

While I was in there, one friend helped himself to some frozen perogies in my freezer. After he finished cooking them, he felt bad so he asked me if he could have them. Through the bathroom door.

"Hey, can I have some perogies?"
"No!"

Then a friend needed to take a leak, so he knocked on the door.

"I really gotta use that thing," he said.

"You can't come in," I retorted.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" he asked.

"Piss off the balcony."

So he did.
(racetraitor has an alibi for, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 10:26, Reply)

GRAND SLAM!
just rememebered this little nugget from my college days! going out on the piss with a bunch of mates, hitting it really hard one of our group, a man named jordan tollman gets monumentally drunk. Now we are all pissed up but ol' Jordan takes things to whole new heights. So there we are in wetherspoons and he staggers off for a piss, we dont see him for a while and go to investigate, we find his body in the toilet. He apparently slipped overbanged his head on the bog and proceeded to GRAND SLAM, which means he involuntarily piss, shat and puked all at the same time! so we call an ambulance and carry on drinking!

length, girth a girl has never seen such wonders
(Roland_of_gilead, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 9:39, Reply)

A change from all the poo stories
My friend was once having a very pleasant bath, during which she washed her long hair.

As she stood up, she realised her period had started, and it was going to be quite a substantial one. Not wishing to remain in the bath while she was...um...dripping, she hurriedly put her hand between her legs to catch the drippage, hopped out of the bath and went to the toilet.

She sorted herself out, got up and flushed the loo. She then realised her long hair was dripping wet and without thinking, she squeezed the water out of her hair.

With her period-blood-covered hands.
(Pachey, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 9:14, Reply)

MOOOOOOOONSTER log
I remember another toilet story of mine is the MONSTER log at my ex girlfriends parents house. It is the stuff of nightmares and it happened to me.

At the house I went for a turd and it was a jumbo u bend smasher. About half was in the water and half was out. I am not messing about it was a fucking beast. I tries to flush the fucker 7 times and it wouldn't shift. I literally was panicking and had tears in my eyes. You could imagine how long it was taking as i had to wait for the water to refill. In the end I had to mash it up with the toilet brush and eventually the fucker went away.

I was so embarrassed especially as everyone was looking at me and wondering what i was doing for so long in the loo.

Ground please swallow me up!!
(manny fagnet, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 8:58, Reply)

Down Under
So, let's see if I remember how this went....

A few years back some mates and I are round at one of the guys' flat, on the booze as per. After a few hours, once we're all shitted beyond all comprehension, one of the boys goes and crimps one off. We're all standing in the lounge, just up the hall from the site of the crime, and we hear the flushing that would indicate the end of the escapade. Then a few minutes later, another flush. Then again. And again. Eventually he stumbles out of the bog laughing his tits off at the freakish turd he'd just unleashed on the world - nothing spectacular, just a plain old log, about three inches in length, standard girth. The thing about it was that it seemed to have welded itself to the bottom of the bowl. No matter what he did, he couldn't get the fucking thing to move. So we all laugh and all that and get back to the booze - in our state there wasn't a chance in hell any of us were picking up the brush and having a crack.

So long story short, this superglue shit - with all the power of teh beer - proved to be unbudgable for over a week. It sat there, festering, even after others had shat, wiped, and flushed, for the whole time. And throughout that time, then stench grew, to the point where the entire flat smelled like shit. After it finally gave up and swam to freedom, the stench hung around for the better part of three days.

And you loved the fucking length you slut.
(Tetsuo, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 8:06, Reply)

How could I forget?
The other week I went to possibly the second worst toilet in the UK. It was brim full of shit and guess what...I had die-a-whore-eee-ay...

So I needed to go...I tried to resist, but couldn't...So I pulled my trousers and keks down, put my arse in to the putrid filth and the moment I felt that around my arse cheeks, my mouth filled with bile and vomit and was promptly sick.

And you know how a syphon works don't you?
(beatpig understands subliminalesbianmessagaying., Tue 6 Sep 2005, 7:42, Reply)

The good old days
We have our own toilets at work next to our mess room, with two traps. Simon (our gaffer) was dropping the kids off in Trap 2 while Ernie (rest his soul) was in Trap 1 having a shit that only the over 60's can enjoy.

Sy realises after a particually savage yet relaxing turd that there is no paper, and prompltly asks over the stalls if Ernie could pass him some bog paper.

Ernie looks at the feces encrusted peice of paper he has just used to wipe his sphincter and thinks "Nah, I can't can I?" then of course realised "Of course I can" and passed the used paper to the gaffer.

Ernie "Here ya go jockey"
Simon "Baaaaaaaaaaastaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaard"

Happy days
( nnnndave, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 7:26, Reply)

hahahha
one night while at university in London

i was minding my own business while reading a book and laying on my bed
and my roomie was laying in her bed across the room.

well she gets up and walks out of the room carrying a book with her.

about 15/20 minutes later she comes back and she's laughing sooo hard and proceeds to tell me this story:

she starts out by saying that she is a bathroom reader
hahah rock on.

and well she finished using the restroom and she looks to wipe her ass and she sees that there is no toilet paper.

At this point she looks at me in all seriousness and says 'i couldn't just pull my pants up skylar. i had a crappy ass' (in a cuban accent)

so she leaves the toilet stall.. with her pants around her ankles to the nearby shower stall.
where she calmly undresses.. and puts her clothes over the side of the door and puts the book on the floor outside the shower

and she proceeds to wash herself in the shower.. using triple clean foaming face cleanser (which she had taken with her to wash her face before coming back to the room)


and she puts her pj pants and t-shirt back on while she was soaking wet because she didn't have a towel and picks up the book from the floor
which somehow got really wet.
and comes walking back into the room to tell me

so she tells me all this and i'm dying with laughter so hard i can't breathe


only to realize that she left her undies on the shower door so she runs back over there to get her undies back.

and we had to put the book on the space heater so that it would dry.

i look at her in all seriousness and ask her how she's going to explain to charles that his book got all wet...

to which we both promptly burst in tears of laughter again.
(spiffy_socks, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 5:50, Reply)

Fuck Glastonbury/Reading/V5 or whatever
all those silly festivals were.
I'll never forget the time the hubby left a teddy bears arm in the toilet, complete with winking sweetcorn.

And the bastard gloated about it for 3 days afterwards to his friends.

That's why I divorced him.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 3:00, Reply)

Time for me, I think...
to retell the story about the time I was six years old and standing in front of the bowl having a tinkle and the LID slammed shut directly on my todger.

I don't think I need to go into greater detail than that; my mind has blanked out the actual instant of contact, and the five minutes of pain directly afterward. I merely thank God that my sack escaped by bare millimeters.
(Dr.Whogivesaratsarse, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 2:33, Reply)

Fruity
This was told to me as gospel but I fear it might be FOAF.

During a tea break, at the infamous Wakefield Morrisons depot, an ex-army type was holding court. He was explaining how squadies overseas and in need of some pleasure would poke a hole in a body temp grapefuit as 'It feels just like a real woman!'(tm)

A young lad they called Pid (as in Stu-), who was not the brightest, was hanging on his every word asked 'does it really?', to which my friend and others assured him that the army type was talking shit. The army bloke strops off, cat calls following, saying 'none of you lot have ever served overseas, I swear its true...'
They then continue to tell Pid not to believe anything that bloke says, not to be easily led and not to let him get away with his bullshitting ways etc.

Cut to the dinner break when my mate walks in to hear the Army bloke telling the same story, closely followed into the room by Pid whom on hearing, 'It feels just like a real woman!'(tm), shouts out 'does it fook feel like a real woman' (also (tm)).

Just then one of the shift managers comes in and anounces 'Some idiot has just stuffed a grapefruit down the toilet! Does anybody know who it was?'

AFL, you have to draw the line somewhere.
('tin'tintin, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 1:14, Reply)

Glasto / Dance tent
It's all true.
I was there, in body if not mind, when the "honey wagon" reversed said flow and made the dance tent a biological hazard.
Funniest thing was the gurning fools outside waiting to go back in!
(breadmaster, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 0:47, Reply)

Guess who
My office is next door to the gents toilet. I can hear everything. I now have the skill to recognise who is in there purely from duration, style and finesse!

Pure talent I tell you.
( Tinfingers Lurk me long time, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 0:47, Reply)

Whitey poo
I once pulled a whitey, and felt the overwhelming urge to drop the kids off at the pool. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that evacuating my bowels had a positive effect on my health.

Flash forward to Reading Festival this year. This time, it is my friend, who has a rather delicate constitution who succumbs to the whitey.

"Go have a crap," I say, "I promise it will cure you."

Off she trots. And returns looking more traumatised than I have ever seen. Portaloos are very scary places, apparently. May cause vomiting and mental scarring.

I give great advice.
( Queen of Cheesecake, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 0:40, Reply)