A drunken night out with new workmates...
We're all sat around the table, gradually teasing more and more information out of each other, the stories getting increasingly rambunctious as the booze flowed.

It was all very jovial and the high spirits convinced me that telling them of a shameful, but to me hilarious, story from my past would be a fantastic idea.

I had a few false starts, the sober side of my brain kept trying to stop me telling the story. By this only increased their desire to hear it. They we're practically salivating at the mouth by the time that I decided that giving them what they want would be a fabulous way to ingratiate myself with my colleagues.

So I told the story of how on graduation night from college I got steaming drunk and a classmate dropped a couple of pills in my pint, unbeknownst to me. I attacked the booze with an unusual verocity - pints in a couple of gulps, endless and increasingly preposterous shots and cocktails, when suddenly I began to feel a little queer.

I went to the toilets with the intention of throwing up, but found myself falling unconcious instead. I was roused a couple of hours later by a fellow classmate, who dragged me out of the pub and put me in a cab, giving the driver money and an address to take me home to.
The same driver who kicked me out the cab as soon as he was out of sight of the pub. (I may have thrown up, I'm not sure)

I crawled, literally, home. The mile long journey taking about 4 hours.

Somehow I managed to struggle into bed, thinking the ordeal was over...

...it wasn't.

I awoke sometime later, it was dark outside and something was wrong. Wet and wrong. A quick rummage under the sheets revealed what I feared. I'd shat myself, spectacularly.

I went into the toilet and stared in the mirror in amazement as one of the turds slid slowly down my back - how did it get there, I wondered in amazment.
I showered, ripped the sheets of my bed and threw them out the window in a haze of bewildered confusion. Fresh sheets on and clean I collapsed into the bed gain, tears welling up in my eyes - the misery was overwhelming, but at least the ordeal was over...

...or was it...

...no...it wasn't.

I awoke some time later, it was bright out and something was wrong.

"Christ, no" I thought.

Not to worry though, I hadn't shat myself again, I'd only pissed myself. The sheets were soaking wet.

I went throught the same miserable process as before and finally slept without losing conrol of myself again, only to be woken by the sound of my furious neighbour demanding from my parents an explaination for the pile shitty and pissy sheets strewn over the roof of his shed.

The gales of laughter I expected from my workmates never appeared. Some got up and left the table, others simply shook their heads in a strange mix of disbelief and disgust, all ignored me for the rest of the evening.

I'm still with the company.
(Smell eep!, Mon 10 Sep 2007, 12:02, Reply)

My dad for some reason
.. has a need to tell me and my brother of our mother's current bowel problems.

Each time he tries to start we shut him up nearly isnstantly, but from the snippets of info that have slipped unsder the radar over the last few years, I know so much that I could paint a particularly vivid photo-fit picture of her hemorrhoids.

Cheers Dad.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Mon 10 Sep 2007, 11:43, Reply)

Shaving the missus' mimsy a year or so ago
.. and while feverishly working away with the old beard-trimmer like an artistic sheep shearer, She cocked her head on one side and said "hmmmmm"

I was already horny and champing at the bit.... and she took the oppertunity to tell me of the 78-Year-old Lady that she had to "clean and catheterise"

Apparently she had a semi-prolapsed vagina which had the mimsy-equivalent of bed-sores and was - in essence - a source of all evil.

She actually had trouble understanding why I stopped being horny.... then again, she wasn't that smart.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Mon 10 Sep 2007, 11:38, Reply)

Ooooh oooh I remember another one....
Stepping out of my office for a lunchtime breath of fresh air some years ago, I was passed by 2 ladies walking in the opposite direction.

The only snippet of conversation that I heard consisted of the words

"Oh yeah, I'm quite into donkey's and stuff like that"

Now in the cold light of day, I can only assume that there was a satisfactory explanation for this. Perhaps she supported a donkey charity perhaps.

However, that wasn't the first thought that sprung to my mind....
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Mon 10 Sep 2007, 11:09, Reply)

Me 'n' 3 mates, in a car around Swansea
Blonde Jon is sitting in the back. He for no apparent reason shouts out;

"I am now going to give you a list of all my favourite foods. I like.....chips...." (long pause)
"AAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD............"
(another long pause)
"...sausages..."
(another long pause)"AAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD............"

He kept this up for a full hour, until he finally said ".....mars bars. That is all." We'd all gone nuts by then.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Mon 10 Sep 2007, 10:56, Reply)

Request for TMI
OK, as a bloke I've never waxed any part of my anatomy, but reading a lot of the posts about pubic hair removal has set me thinking. If I pluck an individual hair from any part of my body, it hurts a bit. Plucking several thousand at once from a particularly sensitive part must be absolutely excruciating.

So go on ladies (and gents if you've experienced it), tell all. Just how bad is it? How much do you have to suffer when someone is ripping a wax strip from your skin, filled with lots of little bits of you?

Incidentally, rachelswipe's "arse hair connected to eyelashes" story has gone down very well with my mates this past weekend - thanks for that, rswipe.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Mon 10 Sep 2007, 10:48, Reply)

Our friends down the road....
...let's call them Dave & Diane. Diane could talk for Britain, and at a volume that can be best described as "F*cking loud".

We were all at a BBQ at the weekend. The long suffering Dave had already asked Diane to 'tone it down a bit' as her loud gossip and tittle-tattle was echoing up and down the back gardens of the street.

Our host had just served up a sumptious feast, and as I was about to take my first mouthful of prime chargrilled burger she announced to a friend "...and so anyway, apparently her bowels just exploded".

Thanks for that.
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Mon 10 Sep 2007, 9:52, Reply)

The dreaded Bloodwank
A friend of mine from my schooldays:

"Have you ever wanked so much that blood came out? I have. Well, it might have been where I cut me foreskin with me fingernail cos I was doing it so hard."

No, David. I can honestly say that I've never got to the bloodwank. But thanks for sharing that with me.
( CaptainCrackerjack live trout, slow motion, Mon 10 Sep 2007, 9:52, Reply)

An office work colleague....
...once sidled up to me and whispered some sound advice.

"After chopping chilli peppers, always wash your hands before attempting foreplay"

Wise words indeed. Shame that his wife was last seen running full tilt into the bathroom bellowing "My f*cking fanny's on fire!" before he had realised this.
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Mon 10 Sep 2007, 9:46, Reply)

Not me but..
Here's a paste from Popbitch in lieu of my effort:

"We haven't heard much from Lisa Stansfield for a while. She was in Soho's Colony Rooms recently. On returning from a visit to the bathroom she announced to the people at the bar, "That coke is making my fanny itch"."
(frankspencer, Mon 10 Sep 2007, 9:13, Reply)

Happened to a mate at work.....
..."S" stayed at a posh country hotel in England somewhere where his cousin had a half-decent wedding. Once the wedding was done and evening party burnt out, everyone retired to thier rooms which were upstairs from the festivities.

"S" and his wife retired to thier room and as they were going in noticed that his 60 year old uncle was staying in the room next to them, said gnight to him and his partner as they entered the suite. "S" and wife both start to fall asleep....then the knocking begins. Not on thier door though, oh no, on thier wall. Twas the headrest from the dodgy uncle's room next door, which was immediately situated behind they're own headrest with a paper-thin wall seperating them.

They heard and felt every single grunt as it quite literally shock thier own headrest, and this apparently eventually built up to a crescendo of the uncle screaming "....urgh....urgh....ohhhh...urghhh....I LOVE YOU uuurrrrrrrrggggghhhh...." before the silence finally took over.

Lovely.

"S" did piss himself laughing telling us though in work; the next morning they all had to eat breakfast with the uncle downstairs, while trying not to burst out laughing at him.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Mon 10 Sep 2007, 8:43, Reply)

Here's a TMI for you...
Last weekend my girlfriend and I replaced the countertops in our kitchen with ceramic tile and a slab of granite. It took immense effort on our part (and we still have some finishing touches to do), but by and large it's done.

The way you do it, for those not in the know, is to cut plywood to size, then cut concrete backer board to the same size, then attach it to the cabinets- generally by means of some very long screws or some sort of adhesive. You then use adhesive grout to attach the tiles to the concrete board.

So tonight I was looking at a porn clip that was posted on another site, and it featured a blonde being thoroughly rogered on a ceramic tile countertop. As the guy was pounding away, they pulled back to show a view from below- and as they did so, my attention was drawn to their construction technique more than to their fucking technique.

I'm rather frightened by this.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 10 Sep 2007, 4:48, Reply)

Talking to the new girl at work....
We quite often revel in telling one another disgusting stories at work (most of mine start with "on this website i read that has a Question Of The Week...") and often forget about new staff not being aware of such traditions.

Anyhoo, this evening I chose to wear an ill-fitting pair of boxer shorts that were open at the front (lads, you know the type). As i was introducing myself to a gorgeous new young hostess at the bar i casually mentioned my "wardrobe malfunction" and informed her i had just "popped out" as a result and had to go and sort myself out.

I think that was TMI for the poor girl who refused to look me in the eye until after a few drinks at the end of the shift when she realised that this type of thing is a daily occurence!


Length: Not impressive enough for her to notice on her own that i'd popped out, but she'll find out soon enough ;)
( Mister B is eating an icanhazcheezburger with lmaonaise, Mon 10 Sep 2007, 4:02, Reply)

...wank face...
Probably not what you're thinking from the title, but please read on...

Was at dinner with my lovely MsLessMiserable, and my brother and his wifey. I think we were playing scrabble when someone put down a mildly disgusting word (we were playing the version where you get extra points for this). I pulled a mock disgusted face, at which point, my better half points and me and cries, "Thats the same face he pulls when I catch him wanking in the shower!"

My brother leapt to my defence and informed MsLessMiserable that what she had said had gone beyond a point and should not be uttered ever again. My sister in law hid her face and has not looked me in the eye since. And my lovely partner still giggles about it and threatens to say it again to more people.

The worst thing is, she made it up. She has never caught me wanking in the shower, and if she has, I don't know about it. Which makes me wonder why I would have a shocked disgusted expression on my mush during an act of self love...
(lessmiserable, Mon 10 Sep 2007, 2:54, Reply)

At work last night
A colleague (who happens to be gay, but that's only slightly relevant in that he's one of those loud extrovert gay man like you see on TV, so should give you an idea of how he said it) was talking about how he'd put hair removal cream on his scrotum and then, because it didn't work he shaved them and now his sack was all red and tender.

Not that I minded. We got into a good conversation about shaving and the benefits thereof (did you know that not only does it make it look about an inch longer, but the increased sensitivity causes increased bloodflow and therefore a larger erection?). Following from that we talked about unusual sexual terminology - felching mostly. Yes, I mentionned the London Bridge.

I think the rest of the office thought it was too much information though.
(Seance Trumpet has got no beef with a man enjoying a croissant, Mon 10 Sep 2007, 2:54, Reply)

Mr Sheep... The truth!
Thank you for repeating what I already wrote… silly boy! I did try to keep you anonymous. Here is a list of Mr Sheep’s misdemeanours in the TMI department:

He engages in deep and meaningful conversations about his stools and farts with me… every day!

He also enjoys telling me in exquisite detail the contents of our sons’ nappies every time they go for a poo – I cannot eat curries without being reminded of dirty nappies (Mr Sheep, just because one of our son’s as a baby farted as you were changing his nappy, sending a fine mist of poo in your face doesn’t mean to say that you had to tell me what it tasted like – I really didn’t want to know.)

He loves explaining to me in great detail every time he farts and follow through, especially the time when he was on the lash dressed up as a German Paratrooper (it was some WW2 re-enactment event) complete with itchy woollen trousers and lack of any decent toilet facilities in the immediate area or the time he was cycling to work. I nearly forgot about the time he told me he farted and followed through in the local cinema, ran to the toilet and found no toilet paper in any of the cubicles so proceeded to use his own underpants instead to wipe his bum, stuff them down the toilet and block the drains up.

He also enjoyed telling me that he "secretly" wiped his penis on his sister-in-law’s (Bucket o' Giblets) favourite lipstick after she annoyed him and was gullible enough to allow him to use her bathroom facilities without removing *every* item from her bathroom. I nearly died when she and her hubby showed us pictures of her kids playing dress up, wearing mummy’s lipstick.

It was most definitely TMI when he told me that the reason one of his friends (now ex friend) travelled miles to visit us every week only did so to cruise around the city’s red light district afterwards to pick up skanky hookers before he went home to his wife and kids.

I really, really, *really* did not need to know that his eldest brother is “hung like a horse” and that his older sister had to go to hospital for “taking one up the poopster” many years ago (although he says it was TMI when she told him about it in the first place – talk about sharing the love!). I also did not really want to know that the only woman that his eldest brother got close to sleeping with was one that fancied Mr Sheep instead but he managed to bribe into “sorting out” his bro. Mr Sheep also had to add the fact that his brother prematurely ejaculated thus blowing all chances of any action with this woman and this is permanently etched into my mind (What information Mr Sheep and his siblings shares with each other really scares me!).

Oh yes… What Mr Sheep did with a certain kitchen implement and his ex-girlfriend really should have stayed between him and his ex – not relayed to me! He let his own brother use that kitchen implement afterwards… eww!

There is more but I think for decencies’ sake I should quit now. Thank you, Mr Sheep. Here’s to ten more years… if my sanity can take it.
( Templeton Blah, blah, blah..., Mon 10 Sep 2007, 1:40, Reply)

so
the family come down to stay this weekend. dad and brother are off to wembley, so i was asked to entertain brother's girlfriend ("BG"). bg is really nice, but i don't know her all that well. she wants to see covent garden as she's never been, and we have a nice time shopping.

we get to david and goliath, which always cracks me up because i'm quite childish like that. i buy a t-shirt for my bald, hairy brother with a tiny cartoon of chewy (star wars, i can't spell the whole name) and the slogan "back, sack and crack" because it amused me. i also buy a pair of pyjamas for BG because she was admiring them (cuddling cutlery and the phrase "spooning leads to forking" underneath. i didn't say it was cool).

much later that evening, BG comes into my lounge in the pyjamas to say thanks again. i say to brother, do you like them?

and he stands up, walks behind her, slaps her ass and decrees them "very spankable."

BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEURGH. that is NOT why i bought them, they are cute cosy cotton vest top ones, not sex wear!

mind you, had to share a bedroom with the same brother on a caribbean cruise last year. i was fed up of waiting in the bathroom for him to get dressed and was shouting to hurry up. eventually he said he was done.

i came out to find him waving his giant hairy arse in the air to annoy/frighten me. it did both.

i think my brother is a walking piece of TMI...
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sun 9 Sep 2007, 23:09, Reply)

No Wee
I once accidentally pissed down the front of my trousers in work, and then decided to tell everyone. Three hours later, and the whole summery hot room has that pissy aroma eminating from my dried pissy pants.

I'll admit it, it's not the first time I felt like a festering tramp.
.
(Nibi, Sun 9 Sep 2007, 22:51, Reply)

Earlier this week
Was out with some friends for one of their birthdays, usual go to the pub, get drunk, then maybe hit a club.

Everyone has a few drinks down them, we're slightly seperated into two groups, cue about 4/5 people from the other group going "Ewwwwww" rather loudly, turns out one of the bunch had just admitted to tasting his own cum.

5 minutes later after the shock and laughter has passed, same mate then proceeded to tell the story of how he was having a wank, just about to reach the finale, stopping and running two laps around his house before resuming and finishing the job.

Suffice to say I was far too sober to hear that and I fear I may never get rid of the images made by people talking about how his cock must have been slapping around as he did the laps.
(buzzmong procrastinating since 1987, Sun 9 Sep 2007, 22:32, Reply)

Dirty Bastard
My ex husband once phoned my sister at work to confer with her on a surprise for me. A romantic notion somewhat spoiled by his answer to the receptionist's question "which A(there was another girl with the same name as sis) is it you want to speak to?"

Him:"The one with the nice tits."
(Hoopla, Sun 9 Sep 2007, 22:09, Reply)

Minge maintainence
Lunchtime - us girls sitting chatting, and the conversation gets round to pubic topiary, and NONE of my colleagues trims their bushes. Ew ew ew oh well at least i know what to get them all for christmas - a trip to the local waxing place
(newname, Sun 9 Sep 2007, 22:00, Reply)

to much info
My mother - she tells every 1 her ailments , she had sex with a truck driver half my age then tells me about it , then tells me my sister has big boobs when she was pregnant , and again when meeting my daughter for the first time . she publicly embarrised my oldest brother in southampton by asking strangers were the certain adult entertainments shop was and telling them my brother wanted to know , she tells me her dogs on heat just as it sits on me .. quote from my mother about her dog "my dog dosnt eat poo its a clean dog " this is being said whilste I have dog poo on my shoe , the dog is licking it off dont ask just as thats to much info .. all this and more can be backed up by Templeton . My brother informed me his wife had a bucket of giblets for a fany , and when he had an endiscope to see if he had problems in his lower regions told me of his piles and the cream he uses and how he uses it .. to say Im disturbed is an understatment as they have said and done far more . Templeton has counciled me through out my ordeal and I thx her for keeping me sane
ps my oldest brother has to inform me when he follows through after farting , this now as years later sticks in my mind as I too have enherated this embarising proscedure I had to come home from works and change my trousers when I farted , leaving me asking this question does this happen to many ppl?
(mr sheep is down stairs with empty maple syrup jar, Sun 9 Sep 2007, 21:10, Reply)

Pity me!
My boyfriend's Mother... as my boyfriend reads b3ta so to respect his anonymity I shall refer the old hag as S.O.W. – Senile Old Woman. Oh where do I begin?

1 – When my boyfriend first introduced me to S.O.W. he told her how we met in a local nightclub. She then proceeds to tell us in great detail how she had a night out in the same nightclub, had pulled some bloke (a truck driver) although she didn't remember his name, took him back to her place and gave him a blow job. She then rubs salt into my boyfriend's wounds by also informing him that this truck driver was several years younger then him. Thankfully that poor truck driver had the sense to sober up and run away.

2 – S.O.W. proudly broadcasts to me and my boyfriend how his youngest sister had "really big tits" because she was pregnant. This left my boyfriend traumatized for several months afterwards. My skin is crawling as I am 38 ½ weeks pregnant – I really do not want to know what S.O.W. has been saying behind my back.

3 – S.O.W. was out shopping with her eldest son who is 40+ and single. She then proceeds to ask random members of public where the nearest porn shop is so that her darling son could add to his growing porn collection. Nice one S.O.W.!

4 – S.O.W. likes to inform the family (those who are still on speaking terms with her) when her pet rat-like Yorkshire terrier is on heat.

5 – S.O.W. likes to give in depth lectures about her ailments and bodily functions. As she is a hypochondriac these discussions are quite longwinded and growing ever more inventive (I’m still puzzled how a woman can have troubles with her prostate gland although the amount of steroid injections this woman has claimed to have had might be the answer).

6 – S.O.W.’s tales of her childhood woes are enough to make me reach for a bucked to puke in. The story of “the day daddy killed my pet rabbit, cooked it and fed it to the family” is such an endearing one – one that I have had to listen to for too many times. There are other stories much worse than this one… but that would be too much information (excuse the apparent pun, it wasn’t intended).

S.O.W.’s legacy lives on through her deranged children. My boyfriend and his brothers have lengthy telephone conversations with each other about their stools. Bliss!

Despite his coyness around members of the general public, my boyfriend’s eldest brother brags to his other brothers about what is in his porn collection and how much he spends on it. He has even let me on his dirty little secret that 90% of the “regular” DVDs that he buys are solely bought because one or more of the female stars are either naked or in some sort of lesbian clinch. Thank you!

My boyfriend was kindly informed by his other brother that his wife’s mimsy is like a bucket of giblets. Such information was deemed important enough to pass on to me, like his hemorrhoids, details of his anal probing with an endoscope (I feel sorry for his doctor) and even his pet name for his wife - “My Little Suction Pump”.

And now for my own family...

My cousin “L” text me whilst she was having sex in the back of her boyfriend’s (now ex’s) van just to tell me she was getting laid which was not only TMI but also very sad for someone who was 20+ at the time.

My own mother ratted out my cousin “K” for buying a Rampant Rabbit whilst they were on a family shopping trip with my aunt… although my mother (prim, proper and pure) did not venture into the shop… she claims. “K” was actually quite cool about such relevations about her sex life, much to the disappointment of my mother.

My mother (yet again) ratted out my cousin “M” was not sure who the father of her child was – it could have been some van driver or a milkman (I kid you not!). It seems that my cousin has hedged her bets with the milkman.

Being told by my mother that my little brother has been spending a suspiciously long time in the toilet, groaning and mumbling some crazy weird stuff has completely warped my fragile little mind. She did not have to say it for it to be too much information and I’m still sure that she is either naïve or in denial… that’s my little brother! Eww!

EDIT: One last thing to share with you all... Sometimes words are not needed to convey TMI. I heard every grunt and groan of my mother and step-father through my bedroom wall as they were working on conceiving my little brother. I was only 15 at the time and the pillow over my head could not drown out the sounds.
( Templeton Blah, blah, blah..., Sun 9 Sep 2007, 21:05, Reply)

Never ask me what im doing.
I answer the phone on the lav you see. Usually gets people hanging up pretty quick though.
( Slippery Mick ‏, Sun 9 Sep 2007, 19:30, Reply)

**insert awkward silence here**
Arrive at the local one night to find that my mates had all made other plans. The only person who had turned up was a girl i'd gone to school with but hadnt spoken to in years, fair enough i think, it'l be good to catch up.

Now at school she'd been the girl who had made a point of punching any guy who she felt was taking the piss (often me) and had thus been a source of terror for the males of the 6th form (despite beeing absolutely tiny).

The conversation turns to drunken escapades...

Her- ..so yeah. we got really drunk and my boyfriend and his mates and me went out to get tattoos.

Me- Yeah? Did you?

Her- No... i did get a piercing though. (little smile)

Me- Oh. Cool.

Her- Well no...(little smile dissapears) I had to take it out. What with all the riding i do there was damage.

Me- Oh............... but why?................ where...? Oh. Oh right................ errrrr bad luck eh?

Her- Yeah...

********SILENCE**************
(DP109, Sun 9 Sep 2007, 19:21, Reply)

Two such incidents
At opposite ends of the country.

Drinking in a pub in Stromness, no idea how the conversation came round to it, but one of the village pissheads whipped out his cock then demanded to know "Does this look small to you? Look at it, look at it!"

Ehh, no ta.

In London recently in a similar drink related incident, random guy talking to one of my mates then flops his cock out for no reason and continues as if nothing has happened. No idea.

Not really information per-se but totally uncalled for in both cases nonetheless.
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Sun 9 Sep 2007, 19:11, Reply)

where to start?
first a guilty secret, my mother used to be a child minder and the other day i saw a girl she used to look after after school and my first thought was "fucking hell, i wouldnt mind splitting her in two" should i feel bad because i was thinking about shagging someone who i knew when she was 8 or because she is ginger?

now back to the topic at hand

i often feel that my sister needs to know the specific details of day to day living

for example after returning from work and having a shower i walked into the living room an announced to her that i was not wearing any boxers (followed by me proving my point by pulling down my trakkie bottoms a little and showing her a bit of arse followed by a bit of thrusting)

while at uni i had a rather detailed conversation (while stoned off my tits) about piles with a female friend and how i didnt enjoy pushing them back in i think she liked pushing hers back in but the whole time another friends whose room it was we were getting stoned in was sat on the floor screaming at us to stop talking

a couple of years ago i went to the leeds festival and she (my sister) went to reading after i got back home she called me to ask how it had went, i told her that i didnt wash or change my clothes at all during the weekend and i had just had a shower and it felt great to have clean testicles once more (it did feel great)

and while im on the subject of leeds i did try and go the whole weekend without going number 2 but i had to admit defeat on the second day, after dropping a monster load born of chips and lager i decided to text one of my mates and tell him i had just dropped half a stone and i was as hollow as a rather hollow thing, i accidentally sent it to my dad he didnt see the funny side of it

there are probably plenty more examples i could add maybe ill post them when i remember them

length? it was about as long as my forearm, all curled up like a walnut whip and the flush in the portaloo was broken
( Reme Philips laid an epic dump on, Sun 9 Sep 2007, 18:51, Reply)

Whilst clearing the loft...
...my brother and I happened to stumble upon an old Valentine's card from our father to our mother, I'm guessing from a fairly early stage in their marriage.

The front of the card said 'Love is...', so we keenly opened it to see what secrets our dear father could pass onto us. To our horror, we discovered a crudely constructed pop-up penis and the word 'peanu(t)s'.

So proud, so proud.
(gmo, Sun 9 Sep 2007, 17:30, Reply)

His best shorts and all...
My very first and very last lads holiday away was somewhere off the coast of Spain that could have possibly been Grand Canaria, but I can't be sure - it was that drunken a holiday.

There was a group of 8 of us, in ages from 20 to I think 44, sharing two shitty apartments. One morning after a particularly heavy night (we'd just rocked up home at about 9 in the morning) a couple of the more senior guys decide to start having a fart contest. We'd had a curry the night before as well.

Cue the oldest, and sadly far from wisest of the group, dropping his trousers to reveal a pair of Pink Panther boxers (as in his words, he didn't want his jeans coming between us and his guff) and he promptly let rip. He then went red, grabbed his arse and tried to shuffle as dignified as possible out of the room whilst repeating this mantra; "I've shit meself, in me best boxers and all, I've shit meself...". Far TMI for everyone whose eyes were then drawn to the trail he left on exiting.
(thegripesofwrath, Sun 9 Sep 2007, 15:57, Reply)