As a financial advisor I'm out & about quite a bit visiting clients and having nearly being caught short a couple of times stuck on the M25 I now ask my clients if I can use their loo before I leave, but only for a wee. The only time I took a dump a clients house was about 15 years ago & never again.
I hadn't been feeling too good on the way there but as it was an important (and rich) client I felt that I could get through the meeting & home again before any danger occurred. I was wrong. After about 15 mins into the meeting I could feel my stomach churning over and I knew before too long I would have to go & empty my bowels. I tried to continue the meeting, but as you know, once you get that feeling there is only one thing on your mind. a few minutes later there was nothing else but ask if I could use the loo as I wasn't feeling too good. Not a problem they said, use the downstairs one (which happened to be next door to where we had just been sitting talking).
That would have been ok if I only needed a wee, but this was a full on, pebble dasher, with the noises that accompany such an event. God only knows what they must have thought as the sounds & smell emanating from me was horrendous I don't think it could have been any worse. Problem is, once I had started I couldn't stop & had to go twice more before I left their house. Funny thing is, they are no longer my clients.......
it was 230 am not so long ago, and I was out in Putney doing one of my blue book runs when I had the urge to go, no way was I going to make it home, no where was open, So I thought I would head over towards the cricket club I had found as a point and drop a log in the rough grass that was near their car park,
as I am heading up there that feeling and noise that means you need to go hit me hard, I couldn't focus on the road I needed to just stop
however I was on Putney hill there was no where to stop, I saw gap in between 2 parked cars and thought Bollox, if I block it with my scooter and just go I aint got a choice
so I did dropped my cacks and laid a Richard that was a size to be held up there with Richards of greatness
I had tissue in my rucksack and finished off and got back on my bike a rode off quickly
I apologise to those eating dinner right now and if the guy in the Red VW Golf needed to go to his boot before sunrise he mustve known dogs don't wipe their arse if he trod in it
Used to play golf with a fella who had to heave a havana out on the course every time we played. We used to call him the Bill the bear that sh1ts in the woods. One round, as usual, he wandered off to some trees and duly layed a cable. Only trouble was he had no loo roll in the bag this time so used a golf towel and put it back in the zipped bag pocket. He went home and put the clubs in the garage forgetting about the skiddy towel. They were his Dad's clubs he had borrowed and a couple of weeks later his Dad returned early from golf face as red as his jumper and launched the full bag of clubs at Bill sitting on the settee. Message recieved and understood.
Back in the 90's whilst in the army, we were stationed in Kenya and went for a night out to the local nightclub. After a couple of hours of drinking dodgy beer, I had a severe case of rapid bowel movement so made my way quickly to the toilets. Once in the cubicle I realised that the toilet hadn't been cleaned (in what seemed like) 6 months. There was absolutely no way I was sitting on that. However, with no other options available, I decided to hover. After releasing a very impressive monster which probably weighed the same as a small child, I looked down to admire my "masterpiece" to see an empty bowl. I assumed it simply disappeared straight down the pipe, so went back to the bar to carry on drinking. Ten minutes later, a mate came out the bog cursing about a huge log that he'd accidently stepped in that was lying beside the pan, moaning about "how the f**k could anyone miss the toilet?". Took about half an hour for me to stop laughing...................
Back in the 90's whilst in the army, we were stationed in Kenya and went for a night out to the local nightclub. After a couple of hours of drinking dodgy beer, I had a severe case of rapid bowel movement so made my way quickly to the toilets. Once in the cubicle I realised that the toilet hadn't been cleaned (in what seemed like) 6 months. There was absolutely no way I was sitting on that. However, with no other options available, I decided to hover. After releasing a very impressive monster which probably weighed the same as a small child, I looked down to admire my "masterpiece" to see an empty bowl. I assumed it simply disappeared straight down the pipe, so went back to the bar to carry on drinking. Ten minutes later, a mate came out the bog cursing about a huge log that he'd accidently stepped in that was lying beside the pan, moaning about "how the f**k could anyone miss the toilet?". Took about half an hour for me to stop laughing...................
We have a winner. That had me laughing like a loon.
Also, twice now in about a year there has been a human poo outside my block of flats just by Westcombe Park Station...
Anyone here want to own up I have alot more sympathy for whoever did it now!
I would suggest it would be a knowledge boy, at the school this conversation comes up more than any other, we all pass off poo plots that are available 247
I have had to go a couple of times since I started but none as risky as Putney hill
at a festival I really needed to go. as some might know festival portaloos aren't a pleasant experience. In some ways it can be down right scary, especially after the sun has gone down as it had by the time I found the line of green boxes using not just the light from the few lamp posts dotted about but also by the unnatural stench that was emanating from them.
clutching a load of tissue I stumbled over (having been on the booze most of the day) and started to open the doors that weren't occupied. In the poor light I slowly opened the first door which revealed shit. Literally everywhere. the whole inside of the porta loo was covered in it. Imagine what the inside of a microwave would look like after you zapped a pile of black pudding wrapped in foil. This first door was a no.
I Continued on to the second door, which was slightly better that the first but the actual toilet bowl was spilling over. right on the top was what the last person had obviously left their. A plump poo vertically standing on top of the rest of the pile. Like a flag pole upon a mountain of shite.
After several more failed attempts I finally reached the last one on the row which after a quick inspection (not helped by the near darkness,) I felt was suitable to be the final destination for my dump.
I went in. Closed the door and turned round in the pitch dark. I was just about to sit down when I hear a grown. I quickly open the door again to get enough light in to see where the noise had come from. Just barely visible was a man slumped down in the toilet bowl. He was in a bit of a state and I helped him out. He said thanks and walked off into the night with half the remains of what was inside the bowl covering the back of his jeans.
Not deterred I carried on with what I needed to do and then went back to the music, having learnt two valuable lessons: always remember to bring a torch with you to festivals and just to be extra safe; always keep an eye on where you put your arse.
Years ago I tried a stint of working as a trainee driving instructor. Since I've always been a fan of sitting in my own time and knowing that I'd now be spending all my days sitting at work, I thought I'd try and keep the poundage down with an early morning jog.
Morning 1: Half my route was spent jogging/sauntering away from my house along urban roads, for the second half I weezed along a canal tow path that wound it's way back to my house. At the half way point (and the furthest from home) my guts kicked into gear. There was a petrol station at this point along my route and I went and asked to use their facilities. Access denied. I knew that there was a secluded spot about half a mile down the canal with adequate camouflage, so I minced my way to the tow-path instead. At that time in the morning there was a steady flow of joggers and dog walkers, but I managed to find a secluded spot and had a successful wildéy.
Morning 2: Learning from yesterdays rookie mistake, I made sure to drop all the kids off at the pool before I left the house. But.... low and behold..... by the time I got to the half way point I was ready for round 2. Knowing that the Petrol station was a waste of time - I headed straight for the tow path's alfresco facilities. However, today the pain was much worse and I knew I wasn't going to make it to yesterdays hot-spot where a fallen tree had offered sanctuary.
Along the left side of the tow path was a secondary pit/channel that was about 6ft deep and just dropped away from the edge of the tow path. The pit was overgrown with nettles, brambles, overhanging shrubbery and tree fodder, so whatever I left there wouldn't be in anyone's way. I dropped my jogging trousers and let fly with some gas powered liquid football. The pain switched off immediately and for a few brief seconds I was in pure unadulterated bliss. Then... I stooped to pull up my joggers, lost my footing and slid backwards through a load of brambles and nettles that had been freshly coated in some fat joggers bowel dust.
I was standing in 2ft of cold water, leaning against a steep muddy bank with my trousers round my ankles and clawing at the top of the slope but the mud kept giving way and I couldn't get out. Then I heard voices. People were coming along the canal tow path. I ducked down as best I could and just hoped that they wouldn't see me. I closed my eyes and crouched in shame and disbelief and just hoped upon hope that they wouldn't stop. The voices got louder, slowed down, but then carried on and disappeared. I never looked at them, I never saw who they were, but someone out there will have a very different version of this story.
Back in the 90's whilst in the army, we were stationed in Kenya and went for a night out to the local nightclub. After a couple of hours of drinking dodgy beer, I had a severe case of rapid bowel movement so made my way quickly to the toilets. Once in the cubicle I realised that the toilet hadn't been cleaned (in what seemed like) 6 months. There was absolutely no way I was sitting on that. However, with no other options available, I decided to hover. After releasing a very impressive monster which probably weighed the same as a small child, I looked down to admire my "masterpiece" to see an empty bowl. I assumed it simply disappeared straight down the pipe, so went back to the bar to carry on drinking. Ten minutes later, a mate came out the bog cursing about a huge log that he'd accidently stepped in that was lying beside the pan, moaning about "how the f**k could anyone miss the toilet?". Took about half an hour for me to stop laughing...................
Used to play golf with a fella who had to heave a havana out on the course every time we played. We used to call him the Bill the bear that sh1ts in the woods. One round, as usual, he wandered off to some trees and duly layed a cable. Only trouble was he had no loo roll in the bag this time so used a golf towel and put it back in the zipped bag pocket. He went home and put the clubs in the garage forgetting about the skiddy towel. They were his Dad's clubs he had borrowed and a couple of weeks later his Dad returned early from golf face as red as his jumper and launched the full bag of clubs at Bill sitting on the settee. Message recieved and understood.
love it - I've had to go a couple of times when playing golf - ok when playing a parkland or heathland course as there are plenty of trees/buses/gorse to hide behind but not when playing a links course. Lucky Princes has the Himalaya's course and Aberdovy has some mighty fine dunes.............
love it - I've had to go a couple of times when playing golf - ok when playing a parkland or heathland course as there are plenty of trees/buses/gorse to hide behind but not when playing a links course. Lucky Princes has the Himalaya's course and Aberdovy has some mighty fine dunes.............
I really hope you meany bushes, not buses although buses would be funnier.................
We were on honeymoon in Lombok and the hotel complex had different restaurants with shared toilets. I had be n suffering with the trots and suddenly needed to go, shot up and ran/waddled to the nearest bog which was a single cubicle. Crashed through he door and just made it. Was halfway through could hear someone outside thought to myself "he's in for a shock when he comes in". The cubicle had louvre doors so he could hear every detail of what I was going through. I looked around and noticed that there was a tampax machine on he wall and slowly realised I was in the ladies. I left it as long as I could before I came out but got a filthy look when I finally did!
Another time I was in a restaurant in Frankfurt after a particularly heavy night, went for a dump which was possibly the worse one I've ever put down, even I couldn't enjoy it. Came out and was washing my hands when a huge German guy came in talking loudly on his mobile. He walked into the cubicle stopped his conversation and shouted "meinn gott" I was pissing myself.
As someone with a bowel disease I have more than my fair share of stories in this genre.
One of my particular low points was about 6 years ago. Lying in bed one morning with my then girlfriend, her behind me and snuggled up. I needed to fart. No panic but once this had been let go it quickly became clear that I had covered the bed and her entire bottom half in a fine, yet severe, spray of shite and blood.
We're married now and the Ulcerative Colitis is all under control.
I also suffer from Ulcerative Colitis. I was coming back from Ascot a few years back, having been drinking all day. The train was packed & ridiculously hot & stuffy and my guts starting to churn & I was feeling faint. You couldn't open a window.
Anyway, by the time we got to Reading, I HAD to get off. The train stopped, doors opened & I stumbled off the train, knocking all the people aside like ten pins, (they should have left room to get off).
Thankfully there was a toilet on the station right there. I just about made it without passing out. I was stuck in there for some time.
Regretfully, I had to part company with my undercrackers, which I stuffed behind the toilet.
Some of you would have a field day living in China! Having the runs can just be a normal part of life here, also pretty much all toilets are squatters, as sitting on a toilet is not hygienic!
love it - I've had to go a couple of times when playing golf - ok when playing a parkland or heathland course as there are plenty of trees/buses/gorse to hide behind but not when playing a links course. Lucky Princes has the Himalaya's course and Aberdovy has some mighty fine dunes.............
I really hope you meany bushes, not buses although buses would be funnier.................
There was a bloke on my course at Uni who shat everywhere other than in a bloody toilet. The worst being 0n the back seat of a bus and in the middle of a lecture theatre. Dont know how he was never caught.
A couple of months back a poor bloke on the DLR had clearly had an accident. No one could work out where the putrid smell was coming from but as he got up at Lewisham, it became very clear what it was. My stomach is turning just thinking about it. As a sufferer of IBS, I always carry immodium in my wallet just in case. To this day, I havent been caught out yet but I live in fear.
Also I would like to point out that ANY of those roadside toilets in France that are "stand and deliver" are literally like a trip back to the third world. Absolute filth what some of those dirty bastards get up to. Sometimes deliberately.
Also I would like to point out that ANY of those roadside toilets in France that are "stand and deliver" are literally like a trip back to the third world. Absolute filth what some of those dirty bastards get up to. Sometimes deliberately.
Depends, if it's number ones or number two's. Number one's is OK, but you need the accurracy of WWII bomb aimer for number two's.
It's an urban myth that this is how the Dambuster's trained.
During the early days my now wife and I were retracing a country walk we had done with the intent of bumping ugly's outdoors again. The passion and excitement was building as we looked for a risky knoll and ledge to crack on, when suddenly I had an attack of gut rot which i couldnt shake. I looked her in the eyes, seeing the passion burning and said "sorry, I really need a sh*t". So I went from a sexy(?!) new lover to a bloke taking a dump while she kept lookout on this country path. To make things worse it came out ORANGE as well so looked horrific. My wife had hayfever in those days so generously donated a snotty tissue to clean up. As you can imagine the passion had by now passed for her and we continued our walk, which was one which made you retrace your steps to come back. Anyway, back we came 20 minutes later to the landing site and there was another couple, who looked like they were fighting or raving and as we got closer we saw they had got caught in a swarm of flies who had been feasting away on my buffet. We shuffled past rather quickly, although it did at least make the wife laugh a bit!
Comments
I hadn't been feeling too good on the way there but as it was an important (and rich) client I felt that I could get through the meeting & home again before any danger occurred. I was wrong. After about 15 mins into the meeting I could feel my stomach churning over and I knew before too long I would have to go & empty my bowels. I tried to continue the meeting, but as you know, once you get that feeling there is only one thing on your mind. a few minutes later there was nothing else but ask if I could use the loo as I wasn't feeling too good. Not a problem they said, use the downstairs one (which happened to be next door to where we had just been sitting talking).
That would have been ok if I only needed a wee, but this was a full on, pebble dasher, with the noises that accompany such an event. God only knows what they must have thought as the sounds & smell emanating from me was horrendous I don't think it could have been any worse. Problem is, once I had started I couldn't stop & had to go twice more before I left their house. Funny thing is, they are no longer my clients.......
It is the liquid ones that get you.
Loved this one since the very first time I clapped eyes on the phrase 'having a Barry'
it was 230 am not so long ago, and I was out in Putney doing one of my blue book runs when I had the urge to go, no way was I going to make it home, no where was open, So I thought I would head over towards the cricket club I had found as a point and drop a log in the rough grass that was near their car park,
as I am heading up there that feeling and noise that means you need to go hit me hard, I couldn't focus on the road I needed to just stop
however I was on Putney hill there was no where to stop, I saw gap in between 2 parked cars and thought Bollox, if I block it with my scooter and just go I aint got a choice
so I did dropped my cacks and laid a Richard that was a size to be held up there with Richards of greatness
I had tissue in my rucksack and finished off and got back on my bike a rode off quickly
I apologise to those eating dinner right now and if the guy in the Red VW Golf needed to go to his boot before sunrise he mustve known dogs don't wipe their arse if he trod in it
Anyone here want to own up
I would suggest it would be a knowledge boy, at the school this conversation comes up more than any other, we all pass off poo plots that are available 247
I have had to go a couple of times since I started but none as risky as Putney hill
clutching a load of tissue I stumbled over (having been on the booze most of the day) and started to open the doors that weren't occupied. In the poor light I slowly opened the first door which revealed shit. Literally everywhere. the whole inside of the porta loo was covered in it. Imagine what the inside of a microwave would look like after you zapped a pile of black pudding wrapped in foil. This first door was a no.
I Continued on to the second door, which was slightly better that the first but the actual toilet bowl was spilling over. right on the top was what the last person had obviously left their. A plump poo vertically standing on top of the rest of the pile. Like a flag pole upon a mountain of shite.
After several more failed attempts I finally reached the last one on the row which after a quick inspection (not helped by the near darkness,) I felt was suitable to be the final destination for my dump.
I went in. Closed the door and turned round in the pitch dark. I was just about to sit down when I hear a grown.
I quickly open the door again to get enough light in to see where the noise had come from. Just barely visible was a man slumped down in the toilet bowl.
He was in a bit of a state and I helped him out. He said thanks and walked off into the night with half the remains of what was inside the bowl covering the back of his jeans.
Not deterred I carried on with what I needed to do and then went back to the music, having learnt two valuable lessons: always remember to bring a torch with you to festivals and just to be extra safe; always keep an eye on where you put your arse.
Morning 1:
Half my route was spent jogging/sauntering away from my house along urban roads, for the second half I weezed along a canal tow path that wound it's way back to my house. At the half way point (and the furthest from home) my guts kicked into gear.
There was a petrol station at this point along my route and I went and asked to use their facilities. Access denied.
I knew that there was a secluded spot about half a mile down the canal with adequate camouflage, so I minced my way to the tow-path instead. At that time in the morning there was a steady flow of joggers and dog walkers, but I managed to find a secluded spot and had a successful wildéy.
Morning 2:
Learning from yesterdays rookie mistake, I made sure to drop all the kids off at the pool before I left the house.
But.... low and behold..... by the time I got to the half way point I was ready for round 2.
Knowing that the Petrol station was a waste of time - I headed straight for the tow path's alfresco facilities.
However, today the pain was much worse and I knew I wasn't going to make it to yesterdays hot-spot where a fallen tree had offered sanctuary.
Along the left side of the tow path was a secondary pit/channel that was about 6ft deep and just dropped away from the edge of the tow path. The pit was overgrown with nettles, brambles, overhanging shrubbery and tree fodder, so whatever I left there wouldn't be in anyone's way. I dropped my jogging trousers and let fly with some gas powered liquid football. The pain switched off immediately and for a few brief seconds I was in pure unadulterated bliss.
Then... I stooped to pull up my joggers, lost my footing and slid backwards through a load of brambles and nettles that had been freshly coated in some fat joggers bowel dust.
I was standing in 2ft of cold water, leaning against a steep muddy bank with my trousers round my ankles and clawing at the top of the slope but the mud kept giving way and I couldn't get out. Then I heard voices. People were coming along the canal tow path. I ducked down as best I could and just hoped that they wouldn't see me. I closed my eyes and crouched in shame and disbelief and just hoped upon hope that they wouldn't stop. The voices got louder, slowed down, but then carried on and disappeared. I never looked at them, I never saw who they were, but someone out there will have a very different version of this story.
I didn't go out jogging again.
love it - I've had to go a couple of times when playing golf - ok when playing a parkland or heathland course as there are plenty of trees/buses/gorse to hide behind but not when playing a links course. Lucky Princes has the Himalaya's course and Aberdovy has some mighty fine dunes.............
Another time I was in a restaurant in Frankfurt after a particularly heavy night, went for a dump which was possibly the worse one I've ever put down, even I couldn't enjoy it. Came out and was washing my hands when a huge German guy came in talking loudly on his mobile. He walked into the cubicle stopped his conversation and shouted "meinn gott" I was pissing myself.
One of my particular low points was about 6 years ago. Lying in bed one morning with my then girlfriend, her behind me and snuggled up. I needed to fart. No panic but once this had been let go it quickly became clear that I had covered the bed and her entire bottom half in a fine, yet severe, spray of shite and blood.
We're married now and the Ulcerative Colitis is all under control.
The train was packed & ridiculously hot & stuffy and my guts starting to churn & I was feeling faint. You couldn't open a window.
Anyway, by the time we got to Reading, I HAD to get off. The train stopped, doors opened & I stumbled off the train, knocking all the people aside like ten pins, (they should have left room to get off).
Thankfully there was a toilet on the station right there. I just about made it without passing out. I was stuck in there for some time.
Regretfully, I had to part company with my undercrackers, which I stuffed behind the toilet.
My wife finished, came out of the cubicle, but could hear her mum making noises. She wasn't sure if she was laughing or crying.
She enquired and her mum was wheezing with laughter. She had got her bracelet caught on her knickers and couldn't get free.
My wife had to go in to "free her".
She hovered.
She missed the target and the poo landed in her tights.
I wanted the khazi for non poop reasons bloke walks out appologising for mess in their as he has crones disease
Couldn't go in trap after that
The worst being 0n the back seat of a bus and in the middle of a lecture theatre. Dont know how he was never caught.
A couple of months back a poor bloke on the DLR had clearly had an accident. No one could work out where the putrid smell was coming from but as he got up at Lewisham, it became very clear what it was. My stomach is turning just thinking about it. As a sufferer of IBS, I always carry immodium in my wallet just in case. To this day, I havent been caught out yet but I live in fear.
It's an urban myth that this is how the Dambuster's trained.
As you can imagine the passion had by now passed for her and we continued our walk, which was one which made you retrace your steps to come back. Anyway, back we came 20 minutes later to the landing site and there was another couple, who looked like they were fighting or raving and as we got closer we saw they had got caught in a swarm of flies who had been feasting away on my buffet. We shuffled past rather quickly, although it did at least make the wife laugh a bit!