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Here be some songs I wrote in exchange for money

I really must do some more of those at some point. Money's fantastic.

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(Tue 8th Jan 2008, 12:01, More)

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» Shit Stories: Part Number Two

Don't even start me on length
I've always been a bit funny about crapping in other peoples' toilets.

This is mainly due to the fact that I produce some of the longest, widest shits that you will ever see, and anything other than world class plumbing just cannot cope. I frequently get to work first thing in the morning with a very real need to to drop trou and let loose the logs of war, but due to prior experiences of having to beat my turds to a flush-friendly mush for 10-15 minutes before I even dare to attempt to pull the chain, I generally just lock my back end, suffer for the entire day and wait until I'm in the safety of my own home.

Holidays are particularly troublesome, and on one occasion 6 years ago me and the now-wife were staying with her brother over in the States - my first time out there. Lovely time was had by all, but try as I might, I just couldn't bring myself to use their toilet. The strange US system of having a bowl near-full of water was new to me, and I just couldn't do it.

Come the 10th night out of 10 and I was in serious trouble. I'd been peeing like a champion all through the trip, but I'd finally got to the stage where all liquid had left my body, and a huge compacted mass of shite had completely bunged me up. At 2 in the morning I just had to try and go, but nothing was doing and I could feel my heart-rate escalating to seriously problematic levels with every attempted heave. Two hours in, and with no movement whatsoever, I was in absolute agony. Completely sapped of energy, I'd long since stopped sweating due to dehydration and could barely utter a murmur. I was absolutely convinced that these were my final moments, yet was still torn between my embarrassment and my self-preservation instincts. Embarrassment won - I couldn't bring myself to make a noise and get someone's attention, and instead I reached for an eyeliner from the neighbouring sink and started to scrawl an addled farewell letter-cum-will on the roll of toilet paper.

Another hour passed and still nothing but pain. Having seen more time pass without my heart exploding, I attempted one final attempt to save my life, and shoved my fingers right up my arsehole. First of all I was stunned to find my chute expanded to what was easily twice that of goatse circumference, but more surprising still was the fact that the mass of shite was stuck halfway up. I'd had no idea it was even approaching the exit, let alone within fingertip reach. I attempted to tear away at the rock-cake like matter, but even the merest touch sent huge electric shocks straight through my body such was the agony. After a short while of tentatively poking at it, I mustered the bravery to dig in a couple of nails, and remarkably a small chunk came away and dropped into the bowl below. For two hours, I tore away painfully small morsels, occasionally attempting a helpalong heave to see if I'd reduced the size sufficiently to let my body do the rest.

Eventually I'd clawed enough loaf to start attempting a valedictory push, and my heart beat its way through my chest as a barbed-wire like marrow slowly scraped its way through my innards. Finally a small ripple of water sounded as the log entered the bowl, but still more pain was to follow as it snaked away as one piece around the S bend, while still partly in my colon. Seemingly hours later, the tail end splashed down, and I doubled-up in absolute exhaustion, passing out while still seated, with blood absolutely pouring from my throbbing arse.

When I awoke it was now light. It was 5 hours after I'd started, and the hum of deathly shit was everywhere. The toilet seat was carved into my arse-cheeks, and the sight in the bowl was pure horror. Burgundy water with ginger and pale brown rope-like sections bobbing up out of the depths. I kidded myself that a flush was worth a try, and in an instant the toilet was overflowing, with huge dollops of crap swimming towards both windows and doors. A concerned knock at the door was both a lifesaver and the most excruciating moment of my life. I'd survived, but would never live this down.

A further 2 hours of mopping, brushing, dabbing, smashing and bleaching ensued, as two men silently worked to remove all trace of meatloaf soup, and later that morning I hovered above my seat on a US Airways flight for 9 hours of sheer, sheer pain.
(Mon 31st Mar 2008, 19:26, More)

» What's the most horrific thing you've seen?

A heavily pregnant dog was brought into the vets surgery where my girlfriend works, clearly in distress. It had apparently been nesting in a cupboard trying to give birth. The owners had been forewarned that it would need a caesarean, so they were instructed to bring her down as soon as she went into labour.

So they admit her, but before they can get her in to surgery and on a table, the dog just stands there, howling. Several howls later it starts retching violently, and gradually throws up a mangled, half-digested puppy.

Turns out it had already given birth to part of the litter, but it was a bit broken.
(Fri 22nd Jun 2007, 10:59, More)

» Terrible Parenting

hand me downs
The youngest of 7, as an infant I was the "beneficiary" of 15 years-worth of baby clothes, an Aladdin's treasure trove of the very worst that the markets of the north 1962-1976 had to offer.

Bad enough in itself, but even worse when you know that I'm a boy, and 5 of the 6 others that make up my siblings are girls. And that when I was around 2 or 3, I looked not dissimilar facially to a few of my elder sisters when they were the same age.

So, rifling through old photos, it's not uncommon to come across a toddler in a dress, and see scrawled on the back "Sandra at home, 1966, (or Phillip, 1980)".
(Fri 17th Aug 2007, 22:26, More)