twix torpedo
A goodly few years ago, I was working in a (very small) shop, just myself and the manager. The toilet in this place was just a tiny room, off to the left of the counter, approx 4 feet from where the customers were to be served. The manager, a young bloke only a few years senior to my good self, had a 'large one' the night before, and come the morning, felt the need to evacuate, and fair enough cry all. 15 min. later, and several flushing noises, he comes out of the bog, giggling to himself, saying 'here, come and look at THIS one!' (we were that close, i guess) and i was confronted with 2 poos, of equal size and length, stuck parallel to each other, and glued with poo-stick to the bottom of the toilet. The bugger wouldn't flush. not even a little bit. So over the next 3 days, we contine to use the bog, each and every time confronted with his twix-like poo smiling at us after we flushed. We tire of this, and begin to bombbard the little fuckers with bleach, toliet duck, air freshener, and even CD lens cleaning fluid, every chemical we could ley our hands on. the little bastard wouldn't budge. we were loath to poke it, and lacked poo poking impliments. Problem was, we had a new girl starting the next day, so we spent 5 hours flushing the toilet every 3 min, hoping to dislodge it. Eventually it went, with a sound not unlike that of a twin-launch of a torpedo, complete with feeling of de-pressureisation. or perhaps that was just the sense of relief after 3 days of being layed seige to by a twixpoo.
(menashem, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 14:02, Reply)