For a Barry
Is it worse when in a pub that has a toilet like that out of Trainspotting, when you're watching something riveting on the box on the sofa downstairs and the stairs seem like Everest, or when in the car on the motorway stuck in traffic with no chance of a plan B.
Now I'm pretty creative but the worse has to be the dirty pub, at least if you fill your pants in the car only you know
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Having removed his pants in the cubicle he couldn't think of where to put them....so standing up on the pan he dropped them into the cistern.
A week or two later he went back and fished them out....they were spotless.
He wrung them out....stuck them in his pocket and hey presto.... took them home and got several months more wear out of them!
The worst toilets i've seen recently had to be the ones in the back room of the Bugle. Disgraceful!
i usually just cover the whole seat in bogroll close my eyes and sit down, do the deed then get out.
Carter proberbly caused this
If you need a dump it would be advisable to go before leaving home as the bogs in the changing rooms there are the worst I've ever seen, looking just like the ones at the Deptford Car Auction pic above.
Multi-functional them Parkas! The Swiss army penknife of coats.
The company had lots of drivers, many of whom, like myself were foreign and from all corners of the globe.
The summers in Philly can get beastly hot and that particular summer was especially hot and sticky.
Some of the office staff started to complain about the appalling stench from the bogs but no matter how much bleach was poured down, the eye watering smell remained.
After nearly a WEEK, the mystery was solved.
Some of the recently arrived bunch of 'Arabs' as they were known had been using the toilets in the only way they knew how.
At home they took a dump then wiped, but the pipes couldn't cope with tissue so they put it in a bin.
As there wasn't a bin provided in Philly, the fellers had used their imaginations and stuffed the poo covered paper behind the cystern.
They weren't the most popular crew when the story came out.
He has been a bit poorly it would seem with a tummy bug.
He gets the coach to work and has been in trouble for being late/calling in sick a lot lately so got an early one to be safe.
He thought he would be safe to unleash a fart as he got off the coach outside work, it wasn't.
The rotten sods made him stay until everyone had taken their lunch and sit in his own filth until they let him go.
I've handed him a bin bag for his trousers and pants and SOCKS! He's now in the shower having a sort out.
Good god he smells like a farmyard
I wandered outside late in the afternoon to find a dozen or so of the bakers furiosuly rocking the portaloo back & forth & laughing hysterically, with the anguished cries & ominous thudding sound inside doing nothing to stop them.
What are you doing I asked the drunken, burly ringleader......
Our Terry's having a dump so we thought we'd shake him up a bit the soft get......came the slurred response
Oh that's funny I said 'cos I just saw him inside passed out under a table........
The rocking stopped & predictably when the door opened, out staggered our Swedish colleague, of course in a pale colured suit, covered in every kind of filfth imaginable to man. You could even see a perfect arc of piss stain down his trouser leg which prescribed the arc his stream must have taken when the rocking began!
We never had another celebration of any kind after that.
At 07.15 I hit the traffic on the A2, for over an hour I sat in the car, stationary, engine switched off in the outside lane sweating and shaking with fear I was about to ruin my lovely beige seats by filling myself.
I made it into work just before 9 and only made it by the skin of my teeth. I would have had no option but to crap myself, there's the real victims of road accidnets right there.
superb story.
The toilets have a multitude of hundreds of mens deposits on the wall , so bad that they hang like stalactites ( or is it stalagmite's?) .
Absolute filth and if your in the area walk right past!
One day I managed to just about make it, and in my usual fashion was sprinting towards the door when I realised I didn't have my bloody key. Went round the side to climb over the fence, with our dog Max barking at me like mad, and went to check if the back door was open. It wasn't. So my only option was to waddle off up the end of the garden and drop my trousers.
That weekend, I woke up and came downstairs and plonked myself in front of the tele. Dad opens the door and walks in from the garden carrying a bin bag and a shovel and says "Blimey, you wanna see the size of the poo Max did out there."
Hanging around the docks at 03:30 ! In Calais ! Suits you sir ! ;0)
He was out for a few beers last night celebrating his sons birth. He was in the pub and told me he felt the urge to drop the kiddies off at the pool. Last orders rang so he put this urge to the back of his mind and went and got the drinks in. On his walk home the urge became a desperate need and he qiickened his pace, opened the door to discover his father in law, who suffers from chrons and ibs was in the khazi. His conditions meant his bog visits could take as long as a feature length film.
Assessing his options (going in the garden, the cat box, an ice cream tub) a flash of brilliance struck him. He urinated in the sink, got one of the newborns nappies and curled out a length of pipe into one of little Joshua's nappies. As he finished and collapsed in a heap of nervous energy he heard the toilet flush and the geordie father in law leave the can.
The evidence was bagged up and binned and no one the wiser.
Really made me laugh that one.
One of my mates was desperate for a dump, after being out drinking & made it as far as his road, but no further.
He did the deed in his road & the next morning, out of curiosity he went to check. It had gone !
Also, someone that posts on here, told me, for a laugh, that he curled one off in the sink, on the train to Exeter a few seasons ago.
Weird !
I had had a proper skinful with a few friends that I had just become friends with a few weeks before round at my flat, had one of the ladies waiting for me in bed, so I went to the toilet.... Opened the toilet door and closed it behind me... Only it wasn't my toilet door, it was the front door to my flat, and I was there in nothing but boxers and socks, at 3am in the communal coridoor, with everyone having gone to bed/sleep already.
So I knock on the door, no response because the doors to the rooms are closed so you can't hear. I go outside, leaving the communal area and going to the buzzer, again no reply.... At this point I (originally having needed a piss) go for a piss against my block of flats.
It's 3 am but sometimes my dad falls asleep on the sofa in the front room of our house (6-7 minute walk from my flat thankfully) so I walk up to my house luckily only seeing one person who must have thought I was demented. But my dad hadn't fallen asleep on the sofa that night... At this point I'm getting pretty worried about what I'm going to do, and I am bursting for a poo having drunk way too much cider.
Anyway, I decide to go back to my flat and try the buzzer again, no success... Bursting at this point I remember that my parents often leave a window on the first floor roof open a little bit because they are morons so decide to try and break into my own house... I get up to my house and I can't hold it any longer, or face the thought of climbing over a fence, then onto a first floor roof to open a window, and then possibly make enough noise to wake the whole family... Whilst needing a poo this much... So I do it in my front garden. Huge as well...
Anyway after that I decide to try the side gate, just in case its unlocked... And it is... Then I walk, size up the climb and realise its quite big and risky when I've drunk this much, so just as a complete shot at nothing, I tried to open the back door, and amazingly... It opened, tip toed in and got the spare key and got back down to my flat where a mate said "yeah I did hear the buzzer but it's not my flat so thought it would be weird if I went and got it"
Bellend.