Boxing Day, 1996. Not strictly a toilet story, but it's one of my faves.
On a pub crawl with two friends. A serious pub crawl. I only live in a small town but we have, get this, 12 pubs, with 8 of them in a half-mile stretch of High Street. Oh yes!

So we proceed to have a double JD and coke in every single pub on the High Street. We finally get to the last one and we're feeling somewhat worse for wear. I saw my friend Dan go green, clamp his hand over his mouth and then run to the toilets trailing a fine spray of vomit behind him.

Finding this most amusing, my other friend and I laughed and continued drinking, until the landlord came over to us with the words "I think you had better take your mate home."

We went into the gents to find Dan slumped against the wash-hand basin, with his shirt off. I don't think I've ever seen so much vomit in my life. It was all over the place. And he's only a little chap too.

We managed (somehow) to get him home. The next day I got a call from him asking if I had put his clothes in the washing machine. I said no, of course not. It turned out that in his drunken state he had managed to wash all of his vomit-ridden clothes before he went to bed. Impressive!

The post-script to this story is that about 6 months later I got chucked out of the same pub by the same landlord for the same reason!

We don't tend to drink there now.
(MrC. Having the most boring username on b3ta since 2004, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 15:41, Reply)

Posiedon Adventure
My poor sister (who hopefully doesn't read b3ta, otherwise I'm dead) managed to enter the 'anals' of family history when on a return trip from Germany, she managed to get a dose of the squits in the ferry.

Cue horrible grunting, growling, whistling and exploding noises from a public ferry lav, with her screaming "Help me! For god's sake, help me!" Yup, she had it bad, the overflowing runs in the middle of the North Sea. This crying and calling out to God went on for about 10 minutes, until we pulled her, crying and sobbing from the bog.

And now, when anyone says to me "Ladies don't fart!" I give a technicolour and full audio rendition of the Poseidon Adventure

(Yeah, some shitty German ferry line makers had named the damn thing 'Poseidon'. Heh.)
(zane, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 15:27, Reply)

Not a story as such...
Worked for a financial software house in wimbledon where the toilets on our floor were constantly blocked. Caretaker was heard to say..
"The problem is there's 2inch pipes in these bogs and someone on this floor has a 3inch arse".

Not me you understand.
(cowkicker, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 14:48, Reply)

The Bad Toilet
I was about four, and it was widely known that I had to be tied down with a leash and electrocuted before I would use any public toilet facility. I also had a habit of holding it in, for days and days and maybe weeks, until every orifice was practically bulging with 'freshness'.

Anyway, I was about four and I was at this jumble sale in this mangy Scout Hut in some North Yorkshire village. The only available toilet was this Shop of Horrors that lurked behind a nasty wooden door. And I was holding it in.

'Do you need to go, son?' the nice parents told me.

'Nnnnnnnoo,' I said, leaving the nice parents all too aware of the lumps of doom that were gathering inside my buttocks.

'You're going anyway,' they said. And so I was dragged outside the toilet with the nasty horrible wooden door. Behind it, I heard sounds. There was also a notable stench. Someone was in there.

Eventually, out crept a hunched woman who was 857 years old and counting. She looked down at me and smiled a toothless grin, with her papyrus face.

What she neglected to tell me was that she hadn't flushed the toilet. In fact, it had no flush.

I can't remember exactly what I saw down there, but let's just say the bit in Stephen King's 'IT' where it says 'And Georgie saw the clown's face CHANGE' is pretty accurate.

The upshot of all this is that not only did I not poo that afternoon, I developed a morbid fear of toilets in general and couldn't poo in any of them. I was seven years old when the nice parents threw my potty in front of the lorry. Seven!

And I still have dreams about double-decker buses full of toilets, or huge toilet-rooms in hotels surrounded by Duplo blocks.

Horrid. Apologies for length.
(sjflangehound, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 14:42, Reply)

In New Brighton and at a wedding
Imagine my surprise when I visited a New Brighton public toilet and saw the urinal overflowing with pee. Being the clever lad that I am I decided to use trap one to the right. I settled my business and made to leave. It was then that I noticed the grizzled short guy who was stood at the urinal a good few minutes before was still there... He was holding his happy jewels, not urinating but looking down the length of the urinal with a big smile on his face waiting for some unsuspecting member of the public to pull out his gentleman parts allowing our friend to get a good inspection. The smile said it all.


Also I'm at a wedding and I have a bad stomach. I make a beeline for the gents and check out trap 3, a comfortable if rustic number with a good stack of loo roll. I deal my peace and it's quite literally offensive. The smell makes the tiles peel off the wall and I start making my will. I clean up and go for the flush. But what's this? The mechanism has failed.... My evidence is left for all to see and I make a sheepish exit.
( beefandcheese, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 14:34, Reply)

Ah, night-shift in a call centre
At my last job, the development staff (of which I was one) and call centre staff were locatied in the same area in the building. One morning, shortly after the night shift had packed up and gone home, a distinct commotion stirred up around the cleaners.

The developers who had already arrived popped over to see ... a perfectly laid turd, right between two desks. Now, how someone managed to convince themself to do this is one thing, but EVERY MEMBER of the night-shift would have had to walk past it. None of them thought it in the least bit odd.

Strangely, the network of security and web cameras managed to detect absolutely nothing ... That being said, some of the 'discoveries' in the toilets after the night shift went home were too horrible to repeat here. Just think of the words 'smear' and 'everywhere' and you're close.

And the call centre wondered why they had such a bad rep...
( Evil|berT is posting post-hummusly, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 14:30, Reply)

Recycling
There's something vaguely cosmic about using the trough at Little Creatures Brewery. Especially after knocking the froth off a couple.

The brewery is two storeys, and the main bar is around the mezzanine, looking down onto the brewery workings. I suppose we all give motivation to the brewers, knowing that their toils are appreciated.

The gents are fairly posh, all stone and stainless steel. Except for the full length one way mirror stretched across the wall above the urinals. Which gives a lovely view of the brewery workings below as you stand and ponder the cycle of life.

Return to sender indeed.
( Udderbelly A tale of four titties, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 14:28, Reply)

Sicky knickers
I used to have a habit when I was really wankered on a night out, of finding a toilet and falling asleep sitting on it. Usually with my knickers round my ankles. This backfired on me one night (the night I met my fiance). I managed to pass out in a sitting position and must have vomited into my pants. I woke up to my now fiance, asking if I was OK just outside the door. I was too drunk to know what to do, so I just pulled my sick-heavy pants up and went home, totally ignoring him. I woke up in the morning with them still on and loads of congealed sick around my nethers.

I tried putting the pants in the washing machine, and they came out lovely and clean, but there was still loads of clean vomit bits in the drum, which I didn't notice. My housemates weren't very happy with me.
(poomypoo, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 14:17, Reply)

A tale of a toilet in Texas...
My family and I were in a little town in Texas which shall remain nameless. It was a very odd sort of town, if you could call it a town, and the conveniencies were not much either. I was dying to use the bathroom but considering the town I was somewhat reluctant. I finally mustered the courage and I casually stepped in. I then proceeded to look on in disbelief....the only thing keeping the rest of the world from seeing your business was a see through length of cloth and if that weren't enough, the cloth didn't stretch to both sides of the stall! I was hesitant and considered walking out, but as I said, I was desperate, so I chose the very end toilet so as to not have all my wares on display. I quickly went about my business and just as I was finishing up I noticed a sign on the wall. As the plumbing in the place was so ancient the sign said to put all paper rubbish (ie. used toilet paper) in the garbage can beside the toilet or the pipes might block up! I took one look at the bin and couldn't stomach the thought of it so I flushed anyway. Forgive me, I am a modest female so having onlookers is something I'm not familar with.
(ThoughtsInsideADream, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 14:03, Reply)

The
toilet stories you just could not make up occur at the place I work.The times in the traps you find half eaten cream cakes/sandwiches and yogurts.Then there are the varieties of things which are attempted to be flushed away,they include such delights as bananas,melons,pineapples,spuds,pumpkins and the pinnacle of impossible to flush away regardless how many times you try is of course the legendary chicken.
However it pales into insignificance when you take the time someone went to dry there hands on the air blower and upon moving the nozzle down to dry their hands,they found themselves to be holding a shit which some nice person had taken the effort in not only giving birth to but making sure it was nice and warm.
( Tyronne Get To Falkirk, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 13:39, Reply)

satellite blows
i know that toilet in Geelong..

and if i get more time i might just post my traumatic johnsons park toilet experience
(uptonogood, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 13:19, Reply)

Strange toilet experiences
1-In Edinburgh, I'm in the Bongo club and in the toilets minding my own business, as you do. This greasy crusty comes up to me and says "Mate, fancy a wee line of coke". Me, thinking my boat has come in goes "Ok". So into the cubicle we go, only for the crusty to pull out the smallest bomb of coke I've ever seen. He says to me "You can have a line if you stick this up my arse", and profers the bomb. After a moments consideration, as the club was shit and a line would have greatly helped, I made my excuses and left. The wee crusty looked most disappointed.
2-In Glasgow, in the toilets again, having a wee in the trough. A guy comes up to me and goes "Excuse me, can I have a look at your penis". Being pilled up, I go "Ok". He says thanks, then walks out with a smile on his face.
Hell, if I can bring a little joy to people, then who I am to judge.
There's also the other story of my mate's sister, who, when completely hammered, went to the loo, shit herself, then vomited down her front. She looked delightful when she came out the toilet, with her pants half round her ankles, covered in her own faeces and vomit.
Nice!
( gadjie, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 12:56, Reply)

I also might add
a sample of brilliant toilet logic in Italy:
The normal toilets were down a flight of stairs, a special toilet for the disabled was on the ground floor.
Its door, however, was locked with a key one could proquire... you guessed it... downstairs.
(Caustic Armadillo consists at least 30% out of custard, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 12:16, Reply)

Locked in
I've had a few strange toilet experiences. The most amusing was in east croydon / clapham junction's toilets. I had a horrific hangover, and only just managed to get to the toilets in time. While taking the much-needed dump, i heard a really strange metallic screeching noise. After a good 15 minute bowel-emptying turdage, i went to leave, only to find that some cunt had pulled the metal shutters down, trapping me inside.

My mobile was dead, and i didnt really fancy hammering on the metal shutter and shouting "HELP! I'VE BEEN LOCKED IN THE TOILETS!" - so i had to break the bit where the shutter locks into the ground, and lift up the metal shutter from the inside, making the most horrifically loud screeching noise, causing everyone on my platform, and everyone on the platform opposite to stare at the dribbling hungover man trying to get out of the toilet. As soon as i got out, i ran off, as i felt like a right twat..
(slepp, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 12:15, Reply)

French toilets. You know the deal.
France can be praised for many things (such as wine, cheese & women) but not for its advanced toilet technology.
A lot of highway restrooms still have these "hole in the ground and two handles for hanging on to" type monstrosities.
Some claim that it's more hygienic that way, since you don't sit on a bacteria-infested seat.
Oh yes, and I guess shitting into a hole in the ground and having to jump out of the cubicle as it is literally flooded with water when flushing is that hygienic...
(Caustic Armadillo consists at least 30% out of custard, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 12:12, Reply)

Yypes Spinning Seat!
I was on a school trip last year to Yypres (or however its spelt) in Belgium. Well in the main square there you can get chips at some food place, and someone dared to go use the toilet. The toilet was so much fun they filmed it on their phone, we dont get many spinning toilet seats in Wales. About a dozen welshies were soon queuing up to see this toilet seat spin...
(Pigmash, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 12:12, Reply)

All I want for christmas....
Not sure what age but I was losing teeth at the time. Sitting on the crapper minding my own business when the door flies open and my little brother charges in and headbuts me. As I sat there slack jawed wondering what the fuck that was for a tooth dropped out.

I always make sure the door is locked now.
(Neuromancer, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 11:43, Reply)

Case of mistaken identity
In Geelong, there is a notorious park near the city centre (Johnstone Park) where it is rumoured that homosexuals hang out at the toilets in the south end of the park near the city library. Often as a young child I would be soiling myself before I'd venture in there, but often nature's call would force me to go there out of necessity, and only in the daylight.

7 years later, and going through Geelong I needed a pitstop. Needless to say my previous fears were no longer there, so I go in and do my business. As I came out of the stall, a medium-sized middle-aged guy comes around the corner and almost has a heart attack, saying "Fuck, thought you were one of THEM!".

I was crapping myself laughing for ages afterwards. Still, Johnstone Park is a scary place to be after dark...
(satellite blows, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 10:48, Reply)

exocet vomit
Madisons - Bournemouth - 1st pill - Crowded Toilet - 1 Cubicle left - 6 feet away - vomited in a perfect arc - splattered said cubicle in a pollockesque manner - resumed dancing - top bombing

mine just keeps on getting bigger with age
(lincolnsmithvstheblackprince I'm up to my knees in lionel here, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 10:45, Reply)

i don't even want to know how it got there
Once I made the mistake of using the restroom at a large discount store, whose name escapes me now-- something unique to the American midwest. Whilst about my business I casually glanced around the floor. There, just between my stall and the next stall over, was a severed duck foot.

I swear to god, I am not making this up. A severed duck foot. On the bathroom floor. Ewww.

I hate public toilets.
( madrabbit is fully prepared, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 10:39, Reply)

Toilet training trauma
Me - 6 years old. Little sister - just turned 3. Big sister takes little sister to loo, balances brat on seat, wanders off down hallway to avoid proximity to tinkling toddler.

Cue humongous fucking explosion, pillar of smoke and fire, siren screams from little sis. Had I fed her jalapeno salsa? Had the IRA hidden bombs down the U-bend? No. We lived 3 miles from the Flixborough chemical plant, and it had just blown up. (www.hse.gov.uk/comah/sragtech/caseflixboroug74.htm)

Little sis was fine once Mum fished her out and dosed her with sweeties, but I was terrified of toilets for years thanks to that, and thanks to the bloody Goodies too - they had an episode with a toilet trundling round snapping its lid at people. Way to further traumatise me, Graeme, Tim and Bill! Cheers!

There goes my cherry - bet you'll miss it more than I will.
(littlesunshine licked your blinky diodes on, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 10:26, Reply)

certainly not me
not sure if anyone has meantioned this yet, if you ahve been to the leeds festival since 2003 you may have heard the legend of the pop up pirate my friends and i read about it in this years program. for those who dont know the festivals toilets are basically pits with blocks of stalls built over. so in 2003 some mentalist climbed into the pit and lay in wait for someone to enter the toilets he then popped his head up through the hole and started shouting "pop up pirate" while bobbing up and down got to have been the funiest thing i heard all week end and at one point some people though one of my mates was he as we were shouting it at random passers by all weekend

on monday morning there was a que of those gods among men who had managed the weekend challenge in the gents at leeds train station (i had failed the challenge saturday night in a portaloo with a broken flush as i emerged contemplating a speedy getaway with as little disgust and comtempt by those around me as possible i was confronted by a couple in their mid twenties asking me if it smelt in there i just said no and left them to enjoy my brown baby boy) i had no business being amongst such kings but they were giving away free crates of carling monday morning and so we had to do our best to carry as much alcohol in our blood streams as possible so as not to break our backs with a bag full of cans. anyway stood in the que for a good 10 minutes i get roung the corner to find everyone is waiting to use the traps and all the urinals free a quick pointing of the pink pistol at the porcelain (sp?) firing range later and i was feeling like a new man though slightly appaled by the gravy splatters coming from behind me

love the length and go gaga for the girth baby
( Reme Philips laid an epic dump on, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 10:13, Reply)

Work - The curse of the drinking class.
Apologies for the length - my first post, might as well make it a good one.

One sunny day, I decided to go for a few beverages down in the local tavern at about mid-day. With a couple of mates, we decided we should just stay out all day, and call it an early night; Sounds so simple doesn't it?

At approximately 6pm we decided to go to the local pool hall and make complete tits of ourselves. This was about the only part of the day that went to plan.

2am - At the local pizza shop announcing the slurry of gibberish that was to be the name of an item of food. A Chilli burger sounds nice at about this time of the day, don't you think?

3am - Passed out in the kitchen, with my face hovering a little over an inch above the remains of the jalapeno smothered burger i'd acquired the night before.

05:30am - I'm up for work. A little groggy, and smelling like i'd just been dragged arse-first through a brewery that manufactures, and smokes Chilli flavoured cigarettes. Apart from that, I'm feeling (surprisingly) fine.

08:30 - Spewing my guts up in the facilities at the place where I work.

09:00 - Sat on the very same toilet - praying to god. My arse felt like Nigel Mansel had just completed the "lower intestinal circuit" at record-breaking speed, and punched through the other end - in a car made of PURE FIRE.

9:30 - Still sat on the very same toilet, receiving phone calls on my works mobile. What a giggle - "Hi, are you available to go into a meeting?", "Yeah sure, i'm just doing some paperwork" *FLUSH* "What time does it start?" *SPATTER* *FART* "Erm, erm, 20 minutes." *SPATTER* *FART* *FLUSH*.

10:00 - The torment ended, and the runners up in the "race of fire" managed to finally finish. It's all over.

Wrong.

11:00 - Running to the toilet to spew again. All the cubicles and urinals were occupied. I decided to run up to the next floor. I get up the stairs, and couldn't quite make it in time; managed to vomit all over the door. The cleaners loved me for that one.

13:00 - Just after lunch. Perhaps mexican chicken wasn't the clever idea. Back to the toilet for a take-2. PURE FIRE. Bloody Hell, it was a nightmare. I couldn't have picked a busier day for it either. Bloody work.
(beer_molester, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 9:18, Reply)

Finding things
The "work toilet" theme seems to be coming up a lot, possibly because it's where you're exposed to the peculiar toilet habits of your fellow man. Only the other day I found a kiwi fruit skin on the floor in a cubicle at work, exactly where you'd expect to find it if someone ate a kiwi fruit while sitting on the crapper and then dropped the skin on the floor. Why?

Our best work toilet find was brought to us by the Health & Safety Committee minutes (they are, surprisingly, always very entertaining). A member of the maintenance staff had found 11.5kg of porn stashed in the false ceiling of the 1st floor toilet. The reason that it was a health & safety issue was, of course, that 11.5kg was above the safe load-bearing capacity of the false ceiling. We later tried to work out what 11.5kg of porn looks like. It's a lot.

If only it had fallen through the ceiling, knocking some poor sod unconscious and leaving them on the loo surrounded by filthy porn.
( foop, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 9:07, Reply)

Working with Lasers
You have to have your eyes tested. This involved going up to Moorfields Eye Hospital in London where they inject you with a dye and then take photos of your retinas. (not much fun because they dilate your pupils and then take a flash photo). On the way home felt the need for a jimmy at Waterloo station.
Back in those days the gents consisted of a shiny stainless steel trough and the illumination was (the then new-fangled) flourescent tubes.
Cue much astonishment and admiration from my fellow pee'ees at the bright green glowing river that I sent coursing down the incline.
(karnuvap, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 9:05, Reply)

Men can't pee.
Quite fitting a question for I have this last Wednesday solved an office mystery.

You see, every afternoon, I'd go take a whiz in the nearby bathroom only to find the floor in front the middle urinal generously sprinkled with pee. Why, oh why, would I think? What is so complex with the usage of a porcelain bowl as big as an elephant's rear? And to think of the cleaning lady who must -everyday- mop this mess...

And then... illuminati...

I open the door, step in, and here's this guy, about three feet from the middle urinal, hose in hand, trying his best at a 45 degree angle in order to, you know, propel pee through the air at a distance worthy of those St-Bernard-sized teddy bears one wins at fairs. Hey... Isn't that how *every* man on earth uses that "white bowl" thingy?

How my eyes remained in their sockets, I'll never know...

Hey, you may come from a foreign country but if the urinal concept is that foreign to you, perhaps your country is doing something wrong.

Now, I *may* have shamed him into not doing it again because since then, the floor is as clean as a bathroom floor should be when said bathroom floor is from an office where the average worker is a PhD and 40 years old...


Onto a riddle now... Why in the fucking hell is it that some men just cannot -repeat: *cannot*- start peeing in a urinal before they spit in it? Oh, and it doesn't matter if their mouth happens to be a little dry at the time, no sireee, they start pumping! Pump, pump, pump, pump that saliva. They look like a mute person trying to express their first orgasm in words. Pump, pump, pump, pump that saliva! And when *finally* they have three drops of the thing ready to be spit, spit they do. Straight down. Kind of like... if one would want to spit on his own hands...

and wiener...

at the same time...

in public...

?

No really: ?

I ask in all the humbleness I can express in TrueType font: ???

And Vishnu forbid that the man in question be over 60, then he basically just force-drools. Sliming his chin on the way...

Anybody?
(st0pid, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 8:38, Reply)

not me, but a friend
Friend's parents away, cue sleepover (or rather pass-out) party at friend's house. Lots of alcohol imbibed and eventually one by one the guests pass out onto the floor.

One guest wakes up in the small hours and feels that dinner was so good that he'd like another chew on it. Not being familiar with friend's house layout, especially while dark and well-leathered, he sets about trying to find a suitable recepticle for his pending technicolour yawn.

He eventually finds an object he identifies as being white with a hinged lid, does the deed and returns to base.

Next day, friend's parents return to find a lump of solidified, frozen sick in their chest freezer.

Close enough I guess.
(absurdistan, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 8:19, Reply)

modest ladies...
My university dorm had a common bathroom for each floor. Mine was a girls' floor (being, as I am, of the "F" persuasion) and I couldn't help but notice most of my floormates had devised unique strategies for camouflaging the telltale sound of excrement hitting water. My roommate, for example, would come down with a most delicate attack of the coughs (ckhe-ckhem!), accompanied by a curious, wettish sort of 'ploop'... why, what could that be? Other noted strategies, once I began investigating, included:
Flushing at moment of splash (yes, each one)
Attempts to dampen sound by covering surface of water with toilet paper
Extra-noisy foot shuffling
Carrying poo quietly from ass to its watery bed in cradle of paper (watch fingers!)
and of course, the old standby,
Waiting for someone else to flush, or simply waiting for everyone else to leave.

And all for the sake of upholding that cardinal rule of womanhood:

Girls Don't Poop.
(iron_pigtail, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 7:46, Reply)

in response to connundrum
www.b3ta.com/questions/toilets/post38977/

I've got the same sort of problem, but only cause im too lazy to actually go up to the toilet.

Bring some chopsticks with you wherever you may go. A lot easier to chuck in the bushes or at passing children than toilet brushes.

EDIT: Top Tip, praps?
( cheesemaster a screaming naked asian man driving a semi, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 6:49, Reply)

I don't wanna die like Elvis!
Quoth my other half when a 5.6 earthquake directly under us nearly knocked him off the crapper as he took his morning repose.
(IdjitMittenz I log in once per decade., Sat 3 Sep 2005, 3:29, Reply)