[jamamafegan4]

CaptainKaos, on 30 January 2011 - 22:51, said:

My mates were heading to Riga for a naughty boys weekend,hitting the airport bar hard they were feeling a tad tipsy and sitting in the departure lounge struck up a conversation with a tidy Estonian women called Alania or something. As the boys werent getting anywhere with the do u know Mart Poom questions they started hitting her with there admittedly shite Lanarkshire chat up lines.This continued for 20 minutes or so until the girl,relatively relaxed in there company put her handbag on the floor.BIG MISTAKE,my mate in his sozzled state picked it up while she was distracted and opened it to check for "Fanny Gadgets!" as apparently "Aw European burds are gantin fur it!".Like Tony Robinson on Time Team he unearthed the precious contents which consisted of a few quid,a lipstick and a receipt for Burger King.Frankly dissapointed the big man felt a familiar tightness in his sphincter and an unholy plan formed in his lager fuelled mind. With Alania being regaled with such pearls of wisdom as "See when i get to Riga hen im gawn tae dae sum damage!" and "Last time i went away wae the boys i came hame wae a boaby like a half chewed Nik-Nak!",he seized his chance.Nipping off to the gents with shiny patent bag in hand,the big man deposited a quite stupendous "Brown Trout" in poor Alanias handbag. Zipping it shut he stealthily returned it to its resting place and as her boarding was called they waved her on her way. The rest of the boys didnt find out what had happened until they were Riga bound.Still they wonder where the big mans offering was uncovered,was it Customs,was it home,who knows.All i like to think of is Alania at the top of her lungs screaming the Estonian for "Manky b*****ds!!!!"

[Tamdunk]

I had been for a koh-i-noor buffet, which I spent eating way more than I could manage...I jus love the starters they do. Anyway washed this down with a few pints and moved on to the pub. Wasn't a really late one but I was pretty drunk when I left. As I walked to the bus stop I could feel a shit brewing, but I thought I'd be fine. 10 minute walk to the bus then half an hour wait on the fucker didn't help, but by now I was needing a pish more which helped me forget about the crap.


Went upstairs and rolled a little spliff, listening the the worldly anecdotes of two bams and a bammette behind me. They're talkin about some guy and she goes "aw I love johnny, he's pure genuous." I got a laugh as the two guys are ripping her for using a made up word, which she finally checks online on her phone and admits defeat.


So a half hour bus journey back to me folks house drops me off a twenty minute walk away. By now I'm desperate for a piss so I go down a side street and relieve ma poor bladder. This then reminds me how badly I need a dump, but have a 20 minute walk to get home. I decide smokin the spliff will take my mind off it, but it only makes things worse.

Here's me walking as fast as I can along an icy pavement trying to keep as little vertical motion in my gait as possible, each step threatening to unleash a curry and beer shit-avalanche in my pants. By the time I reach my parents street I'm almost in tears, breathing as tho I'm in labour. I unbuckle my belt in anticipataion as I scurry up the drive and thank god my parents remembered not to lock the door.

I pull down my jeans as I head for the bathroom and it starts before me arse cheeks even hit the toilet seat. A mixture of machine gun spray and chunky country-style shit mcnuggets pepper the toilet bowl and the heaven of the relief only briefly overpowers the fast onset of the ring sting. The dirty deed only lasts a few minutes, but after the ordeal I spend another 15 minutes slumped on the pan trying to compose myself and bracing for the eventual pain of the wipe.

[El McFuddin]

Back in the days of fun-filled youth me and gang of mates had one mate who was a renowned grubber. He'd eat hairy chips off the floor of the toilet, he was that bad.

Went to pick him up in a motor one day and conveniently left a chocolate bar on the only seat left in the car. Matey gets in, spots choc, wrips open down the hatch in seconds without even looking at wrapper to see what it was, as we suspected he wouldn't.

Next day, go to pick matey up again, forgetting about the choccy bar. Matey gets in car and regales us about the previous 24 hours of his life spent on the shitter with his maw threatening to phone the emergency doctor as young Baz withered away before her very eyes.

Three of us pishing ourselves laughing, trying not to crash car or tell matey he'd been spiked with a max strength laxative chocolate bar from superdrug.

Heho........

[11thHour]

Went out on the lash one night and me and my mate drank a full bottle of black aftershock. The next day he was in my house and I went for my first alcohol shite, wiped my arse to find the skid was pea green, looked in the toilet to find pile of gloopy shite that looked more like mashed peas. The colouring of the aftershock had stained my shecter and I just had to shout my mate in to witness this grand occasion.

Another time I had been on a pretty strict diet of barely f**k all for a week and a half and was out shopping in braehead. Decided to stray from the diet a bit and get some ribs outty Tony Romas. I inevitably eat far too much but didn't feel any worse for it until about 7 the next morning when I woke up chokin for a shite and generally feeling terrible so I made if to the toilet and had a proper heaving shite, wretching with every load dropped and I wax so dizzy it was unbelievable. I ended up getting rather faint and slumped my torso against the radiator whilst shitting so I didn't faint and fall on the floor. Had to shout the missus in for some water and she was nearly sick with the smell that attacked her when she came in. After a while I finished and stopped feeling so faint, managed to wipe and get back to bed where I promptly passed out for a few hours.

[Ron Aldo]

My two most memorable shitting experiences came within a few days of each other. The first was at the 6th year formal. I'd hired a kilt and all the usual gubbings, which the guy at the shop was particularly pleased with as it was a tartan he'd designed himself. Anyway, I got home that night suitably drunk but absolutely bursting for the toilet. At this point I was worried about pissing myself but knew that there was a shite in there somewhere so I might as well get rid of that as well (two birds with one stone and all that). I was suprised at how difficult it was to get a kilt off, especially under pressure, and as the buckle for it had ended up round the back I decided that i would just lift it up and sit down. The piss was glorious. It must have lasted a good minute but when it was over I turned my attention to the less important matter of doing a shit. I hadn't been dying for one but knew once it had worked its way up it would be a good one. I let go but suprisingly there was no plop. I didn't think anything of it and carried on. When I stood up to wipe my arse there was a thud as two or three big lumps of shit landed at my feet. I took of my kilt for inspection and it looked like it had been used to wipe a horses arse. After a good 15 minutes of "cleaning" it with wet toilet paper I decided it was as good as it was going to be and handed it back to the shop the next day, shit stains and all.

The next happened maybe a week or so later on holiday in Zante. On the third night I got as drunk as i've probably ever been and spewed my load a good few times. When I woke up the next day, I felt fine at first but as soon as I stood up I knew I was in for a rough day. This was confirmed when I spewed again at breakfast. After this I decided to try and sleep this monster hangover off. A few hours later I woke up and could tell instantly I had been brewing a beast of a jobby of the diarrhoea variety. I promptly went to the toilet and let rip. I inspected it afterwards (as you do) and if anyone has ever heard of faecal vommiting then i'm convinced this was the exact opposite; I had spewed out my arse. It had the look and smell of sick and is without doubt the worst shit / sick i've ever done. As there was no air freshener the next one to use the toilet got a sample of my work. Good times .

[11thHour]

Currently in the middle of my second lager and goujon packed shite of the day. God I hate the smell that comes with a sketchy alcohol shite.

[away days <33]

on the way to aberdeen this year one of the boys on the bus had a bottle of buckfast a shit himself

all over his face ect . . . .

safe to say he got chucked off the bus

[Nick_BCFC]

I have a photo of a horrific shite I did the other day. I'm both proud and ashamed of it. Would I get banned for posting the image?

[jupe1407]

I had a fairly traumatic Encounter of the Turd Kind on Monday past. The only surprising aspect was that it took a whole extra day to exit my hungover wreck of a body.

The unholy combination that led to this less than fun experience consisted of a portion of Beef with Fresh Chilli from the local Chinese (they've made it a bit hotter by incorporating more jalapenos and green chillis), followed by an epic sesh of vodka & red bull. Not l only did i lose my memory of anything after 11pm on Saturday night until waking up on Sunday morning, I spent most of Sunday sprawled pathetically on the settee carefully selecting TV viewing which didn't involve fast moving pictures. I also spent most of Sunday wondering what the f**k the occasional rumble in my guts was all about.

I woke up Monday morning, and not for the first time, Sod's law dictated that there would be no hint of a need for shite until i'd had a bath, got dressed and was about to leave for work. Cue sudden twinge, recording time removal of trousers and underwear and a fairly bizarre shitting experience that probably only lasted 20 seconds, but seemed to include every single thing i'd eaten for the last week. A quick glance at my handiwork revealed sweetcorn (corn on the cob for tea on Thursday) undigested red peppers (stir fry Friday or Chinese on Sat - take your pick) and i'd swear to god I could smell a hint of peppercorn sauce (steak on Tuesday).

Then there was the smell. Now, an average run-of-the-mill turd isn't usually too horrific, you know the ones, it doesn't smell awful while you're in there getting rid of the fucker, but should you forget to open the bathroom window, then have to go back in the 10 minutes later the true awfulness hits you. Well no, it wasn't one of those. This was the sort of shit that as soon as my arse was off the pan, there was nothing to obstruct the updraft of perhaps one of the most pungent-smelling shits i, (or probably anyone else for that matter) has ever produced. Dear god it was terrible. I prayed to every god that ever existed that the wiping would be quick and relatively painless so i could get out of there as soon as possible, and thankfully it was.

A truly awful experience. The sort of shit that makes you change your shirt due to the paranoia that somehow the smell will cling to it and everyone at work will think you've crapped yourself. The sort of shit that results in complete failure to find a suitably comfortable driving position on your way to work. I was almost tempted to have another fucking bath afterwards, but the smell would have taken too long to clear.