[BalhamPar]

There's been a couple of follow-through disasters. Once in at my old student union, where thankfully the stupidly loud cheesy music blocked out what must have been a fair rumble as a fart turned into a river of shite. I made it to a toilet cubicle, cleaned up and ditched my boxers in the cistern. The other time was in the middle of an industrial estate in Milton Keynes - there was an old rave venue there called The Sanctuary, and as I was walking towards it for a night out I suddenly started touching cloth. I thought I could hold on but to no avail. Mercifully there were some bushes nearby and under the pretence of needing a pish I dived into these, whipped off my kecks, ditched another pair of brown boxers and strolled back out as though nothing had happened. Close call though.

Worst experience was by far when I had food poisoning a few years ago and it was pretty much constant. Worst bit is when you clean yourself up, then sit down and a load more dribbles out. The nightmare part was when I ran out of bog roll, and all my flatmates were away for the weekend - the nearest shop was about 5 minutes away but I got up there in record time, grabbed some bog roll, slapped a fiver on the counter and didn't bother waiting for change, then sprinted all the way back, just making it in the nick of time.

[Poet of the Macabre]

I just knew that a thread on shitting would create great discussion amongst P&B members

[strathspey thistle]

Gall09, on Mar 25 2008, 18:53, said:

There was the time in 3rd year i had to do a rancid shite, only to realise there was no toilet roll and had to wipe my arse wi a pound note.

The worst time was my first holiday wi my pals in Kavos. First night there, got totally steaming, my other 2 pals were relatively sober. Had to be helped back to the hotel. Once there, i sat down on the toilet seat wi my shorts still on, and proceeded to force out a shit. Can't remember much of it. Woke up the next morning (having fell asleep in the toilet), to be greeted by the site of a lone turd lying in the middle of the kitchen next to a bottle of Windex my mates had bought for me to clean it with.

cant stop laughing at 1st one,tears running down my face

[proud2beabuddy]

Tatty Boabie, on Mar 26 2008, 01:15, said:

My story is less than salubrious.

On a lovely sumer's day out with my then girlfriend to a garden centre just outside Falkirk, where we had enjoyed a lovely homecooked lunch, we proceeded to the outside bit of the garden centre to purchase plants and pots.

Unfortunately, my metabolism was working far too quickly that day, and as we stepped outside I had the urge to break wind. It was noisy enough and outdoors, so I decided to let it rip, only to be horrified that it wasn't wind, it was the real stuff.

It is important at this point that I mention that I was On-Call at work that particular day. Just after giving birth to a ten pound otter in my trousers, my pager went off, with one of my mental health patients threatening to kill himself.

Imagine the scenario :

I have just shit in my pants, and am now faced with a life and death situation with a very unstable mental health patient who lived in Livingston.

I said to the patient, "Give me an hour", I then had to explain to my girlfriend what had happened, including that I had shit my pants, and needed to go home to change and then she would have to drive me to Livingston to perhaps save somebody's life.

I sat sideways in the car on the way back to my home in Linlithgow, but by the time I had got back I had set.

It was like concrete. I had to chisel off my jeans and underwear, and use metal soap pads to clean my arse.

The story had a happy ending, I cleaned all the shit off myself, my girlfriend was laughing too much to finish with me, and the mental health patient lived, despite cutting his stomach open and having to go to hospital.

Nightmare.

I'm in tears! That is the funniest thing I have ever read

[Rugster]

When I worked at the Record as night manager, the loaders and drivers had a tiny wee room they used for tea and a heat. I was about to let a pungent fart out, having not long had an indian, and, as was the practice in those days, proceeded to run to the room to let rip in order to evacuate them into the freezing cold.

Yes, I followed through. Off came the breeks, and particularly quickly after them, the boxers. The boxers went in the bin in the bog, and I cleaned up in the bathroom. They were laughing, not me. The opposite was the intnet.

I have also sharted in Behind the Wall, but somehow managed to make it to the toilet (with that, "I just know I've followed through there" feeling) without any of the dribble touching cloth, amazingly.

[strathspey thistle]

this must go down as the funniest thread ever on p+b i havent laughed so much in years,the wifes giving me weird looks and asking whats so funny

[InverAlly]

I used to work for Building Control in Local Authority and was on site carrying out drains tests for Miller homes.
To test drains bungs are put in all the vent pipes and manholes and pressure tested.
John the Labourer was kneeling down in the manhole when all of a sudden water gushed out of the drain into the manhole.
He climbed out, took off his boot and shook out a huge jobby that had shot up his 'Welly'!
One of the painters in the house couldn't wait.
Then there was a fight!

[lyt]

in times past we used to shit in empty half bags of cement as there wasnt those portaloo jobs on sites.I was forced to use this system one day as i was bursting.when the deed was done oot the windae it went,very bad idea in a gale,it landed in the middle of a group of guys warming themselves at a drum fire.wind and piss = pissed splattered workers

[Nkomo-A-Gogo]

Getting of the bus in Camelon to go to work let what i thought was a sneaky fart go as i jumped off the last step.
felt it dribbling down the inside of my leg
i tiptoed over to the courthouse but the security gaurd wouldnt let me in to the toilet so i just got on the next bus and sat in my own shite all the way to bannockburn and rang in sick.
Didnt really smell too bad but probably because it was mostly water.

[dubs]

Absolute genius, this thread actually makes me quite afraid (shitting myself if you will, lawl) simply because I've never shat myself and when you read about folk doing simple regulation farts and following through, it makes you ponder a little.

[endieinreekie]

Once got completely monged on Guinness and vodka, don't remember a thing after leaving the pub. Woke up next morning, on my mates parents living room floor with ma breeks full of sh*te. Went to bog and got cleaned up but came back to the living room and there was a sh*t stained patch on the carpet where I had been lying unconscious. I apologised whenever I saw them for the next 3 months I think!!!

[Shawfield Stallion]

The only one I can think of is when I was 12 or so, it was all the rage to sit on the floor, legs open, when you needed to fart as it amplified the sound. Anyways, one fateful day at football training I lost all sphincter control and followed through all over my nice white shorts

I had diarrhoea last month for the first time in ages and I thought it was quite pleasant Obviously having to dart to the toilet every 20 minutes was a bummer but the gentle trickle of watery shecht leaving my rump felt quite good. Am I one of those gays you hear about on the television now?

[Ayrgirl]

Once when I had a dodgy tummy (blooming irritable bowel syndrome) and was in Asda I farted and it was a wet fart shall we say. I hadn't done my shopping so I went into the baby changing toilet, removed my knickers and threw them in the nappy bin. Then I went shopping.

[Rory89]

The other Friday there I went to the pub and drank loads and had a kebab after, earlier on I had a chippy for lunch. The next day me and a few lads went to the football then headed through to Glasgow for a friends house party. I only had time to eat fast food, then that night I drank lots of Olde English Cider and a 3 litre bottle of double strength cider Frosty Jacks. Basically I had eaten cheap food and drank dodgy alchohol for two days, with nothing healthy going near my mouth.

The next evening I was sitting relaxing in my house when I had a real pain in my stomach, I didn't think I needed the bog but I couldn't think what else to do as the pain had become pretty sharp and uncomfortable. I sat down on the bog and with the slightest push what felt like everything in my stomach just fell out for what felt like about thirty seconds. I didn't really want to look down but curiosity got the better of me and what l saw was undescribably horrible, I felt like having a shower in the hope that it would some how wash my soul cleaner.

As for the smell, it went away eventually but your memory never forgets.

How many wipes? 1, it was a self cleaning operation.

[Mr. Brightside]

Dirty Sanchez, on Mar 26 2008, 12:28, said:

I was in a hill walking party of about twenty people in North Glen Sannox,Arran a few years ago.

I was finding that I had been getting dehydrated easily,so before we left the accommodation that morning I tanned as much water as I could drink.

I don't know what the link is,but I can only assume that the copious amounts of water were what made very suddenly desperate for a shite,while we were out in the field,miles from anywhere.

It didn't come on gradually. One minute I didn't need a shite,but the next minute my arse was bursting.
We had split into pairs and were all walking upstream alongside the river that runs down the valley.

I explained my situation to my partner then bolted away to try and find somewhere concealed to leave my deposit.

The topography dictated that if I'd shat on the grass somewhere I'd probably have been a squatting silhouette on the horizon for somebody,so I concluded that shitting on the edge of the stream was the only option. The water was about ankle deep there,and I was hidden by the bank.

Despite feeling very vulnerable exposing my arse in an area that was infested by ticks (not to mention other hill walkers) I relieved myself of the shite which,as it happens,was quite a substantial log.

I was just reflecting on how handy it was that I'd be able to wipe my arse with the stream water when,to my horror,I realised that the shite was floating away.

This hadn't occurred to me. I wasn't initially intending to shit in the stream,and I was desperate,so I hadn't looked at the possibilty that it might float away.

Of course,the problem was that our entire party were downstream of me.
We're not talking about a very wide stream here. If you were walking beside the stream,and a large shite floated past,there's no doubt you would spot it.

If only I'd been a skilled primitive fisherman,I could have chased the shite downstream and speared it from the riverbank.

In the end,with my trousers around my knees and the floating shite starting to gather pace in its bid to escape,I had no option but to wade forward,grab it with my hand and guide it back to safety.
I then buried it under a pile of rocks in the stream.

On the next trip we went on I barely managed a shite all week. I can only assume this was some kind of psychological reaction to the trauma I'd suffered in Arran.

[Swarley]

This one time at band camp I was driving home from Inverness after watching Queens getting humped by ICT. Felt my stomach start to gurgle seriously at about Pitlochry and it got worse as I headed South. By the time I passed Kelty I knew I was in trouble and thoughts of how I was going to clean the car seat etc were rushing through my mind.

Fortunately my in-laws live in Dalgety Bay so I got there as fast as I could. After a very quick "hello, can I use your dunny" I was into the toilet and was immediately projecting from both ends. I had to stay with them for 2 days until I felt better. I still blame it on a dodgy pie at the game and have never eaten food in Inverness since.

[AUTID]

This thread is genius!

[turboshandy]

Gall09, on Mar 25 2008, 18:53, said:

There was the time in 3rd year i had to do a rancid shite, only to realise there was no toilet roll and had to wipe my arse wi a pound note.

The worst time was my first holiday wi my pals in Kavos. First night there, got totally steaming, my other 2 pals were relatively sober. Had to be helped back to the hotel. Once there, i sat down on the toilet seat wi my shorts still on, and proceeded to force out a shit. Can't remember much of it. Woke up the next morning (having fell asleep in the toilet), to be greeted by the site of a lone turd lying in the middle of the kitchen next to a bottle of Windex my mates had bought for me to clean it with.

Reignman, on Mar 25 2008, 23:21, said:

My mate once lost badly at drinking games in the union, and the fool was drinking wine. 3 bottles later he couldn't stand up and on the way home required an adrenaline shot in the back of an ambulance. In the morning his flatmates found him, in the feotal positon, his economics notes spread out in an orderly fashion behind him, covered in shit. He'd also managed to pull his jeans back up (although he had removed his boxers) so it looked like he'd blown the arse out of them.

I lol'd. The fact he obviously thought 'I'm going to crap myself, quick, spread the notes out on the floor and I'll squat here!'

Tatty Boabie, on Mar 26 2008, 01:15, said:

My story is less than salubrious.

On a lovely sumer's day out with my then girlfriend to a garden centre just outside Falkirk, where we had enjoyed a lovely homecooked lunch, we proceeded to the outside bit of the garden centre to purchase plants and pots.

Unfortunately, my metabolism was working far too quickly that day, and as we stepped outside I had the urge to break wind. It was noisy enough and outdoors, so I decided to let it rip, only to be horrified that it wasn't wind, it was the real stuff.

It is important at this point that I mention that I was On-Call at work that particular day. Just after giving birth to a ten pound otter in my trousers, my pager went off, with one of my mental health patients threatening to kill himself.

Imagine the scenario :

I have just shit in my pants, and am now faced with a life and death situation with a very unstable mental health patient who lived in Livingston.

I said to the patient, "Give me an hour", I then had to explain to my girlfriend what had happened, including that I had shit my pants, and needed to go home to change and then she would have to drive me to Livingston to perhaps save somebody's life.

I sat sideways in the car on the way back to my home in Linlithgow, but by the time I had got back I had set.

It was like concrete. I had to chisel off my jeans and underwear, and use metal soap pads to clean my arse.

The story had a happy ending, I cleaned all the shit off myself, my girlfriend was laughing too much to finish with me, and the mental health patient lived, despite cutting his stomach open and having to go to hospital.

Nightmare.

Dirty Sanchez, on Mar 26 2008, 12:28, said:

I was in a hill walking party of about twenty people in North Glen Sannox,Arran a few years ago.

I was finding that I had been getting dehydrated easily,so before we left the accommodation that morning I tanned as much water as I could drink.

I don't know what the link is,but I can only assume that the copious amounts of water were what made very suddenly desperate for a shite,while we were out in the field,miles from anywhere.

It didn't come on gradually. One minute I didn't need a shite,but the next minute my arse was bursting.
We had split into pairs and were all walking upstream alongside the river that runs down the valley.

I explained my situation to my partner then bolted away to try and find somewhere concealed to leave my deposit.

The topography dictated that if I'd shat on the grass somewhere I'd probably have been a squatting silhouette on the horizon for somebody,so I concluded that shitting on the edge of the stream was the only option. The water was about ankle deep there,and I was hidden by the bank.

Despite feeling very vulnerable exposing my arse in an area that was infested by ticks (not to mention other hill walkers) I relieved myself of the shite which,as it happens,was quite a substantial log.

I was just reflecting on how handy it was that I'd be able to wipe my arse with the stream water when,to my horror,I realised that the shite was floating away.

This hadn't occurred to me. I wasn't initially intending to shit in the stream,and I was desperate,so I hadn't looked at the possibilty that it might float away.

Of course,the problem was that our entire party were downstream of me.
We're not talking about a very wide stream here. If you were walking beside the stream,and a large shite floated past,there's no doubt you would spot it.

If only I'd been a skilled primitive fisherman,I could have chased the shite downstream and speared it from the riverbank.

In the end,with my trousers around my knees and the floating shite starting to gather pace in its bid to escape,I had no option but to wade forward,grab it with my hand and guide it back to safety.
I then buried it under a pile of rocks in the stream.

On the next trip we went on I barely managed a shite all week. I can only assume this was some kind of psychological reaction to the trauma I'd suffered in Arran.

My sides.

Never mind Nightshift-bound, this thread could quite possibly be Gold-bound.

[Laid Back Maverick]

I c&p'd this from a old thread...

I'd been on holiday in Sharm El Sheikh and my stomach had been a bit queasy for the last couple of days of the holiday, but nothing too bad.

I felt the odd gurgle in my stomach during the flight home, but otherwise nothing amiss. Soon as I stood up on landing, I felt the familiar signs. We got held up in a massive queue in security and the pain in my stomach was getting sharper and sharper. My wife says I acting like a small kid, rocking from foot to foot, eyes wide, hyperventilating. I was almost in tears and I honestly thought brown water would dribble down my leg if I farted.

Finally, we got through security and with my last ounce of composure, I walked as calmly as I could to the toilet before sprinting like a demon into a cubicle.

Sadly that was just day one of excruciating diarrhoea which hit me in bouts for a week.

[Tryfield]

What a treat to read after a 12 hour nightshift.

The only shitting story I can think of was my mate. Whilst fishing on the River Clyde, he needed to and get rid of Friday night guinness and curry. No toilets near Coulter Bridge, so disappeared behind some trees to do his business. Little did he know, every little plip and plop bounced off a twig, right back into his trousers. Not a popular guy in the minibus going home.

============================================================
===============
A poem.
JIM O'SHACHTER

Intae the wids amongst the trees
Jim bared his erse, his cheeks tae ease
Nae sooner had his breeks gan doon
Than shity flees were swarmin roon

Intae the wind he bared his baws
And frae his erse a big keech faws
The reek it curled amongst the trees
Twis enough tae mak the birdies sneeze
An a the beasts in burn and ditch
Got a whiff o' something awfy rich

Big Jim he wis in awfy pain
It came out his erse like a nine pun wean
There wis a tear faw fae his ee
Fur a bigger shite you'd never see

Big Jims erse wis raw and sair
Says Big Jim I'll shite nae mair
Yonder it lay among the grit
A steemin, stinkin muckle shit

There it lay sae soft sae fresh
Nae hair ,nae teeth, nae brains, nae flesh
Tae wipe his erse Jim yaised a docken
While a' aroon the birds were boackin

Jim happed it ower wi stanes and stoor
Then sauntered off across the moor
A wee bit quicker wi bein sae light
Efter riddin himself o' that muckle shite

Noo a've telt ye this tale for a wee bit laughter
A tale ye can tell for ever after
A tell ye noo, a swear its true
The tale o Jim O'Shachter

[turboshandy]

Laid Back Maverick, on Feb 17 2009, 11:04, said:

I c&p'd this from a old thread...

I'd been on holiday in Sharm El Sheikh and my stomach had been a bit queasy for the last couple of days of the holiday, but nothing too bad.

I felt the odd gurgle in my stomach during the flight home, but otherwise nothing amiss. Soon as I stood up on landing, I felt the familiar signs. We got held up in a massive queue in security and the pain in my stomach was getting sharper and sharper. My wife says I acting like a small kid, rocking from foot to foot, eyes wide, hyperventilating. I was almost in tears and I honestly thought brown water would dribble down my leg if I farted.

Finally, we got through security and with my last ounce of composure, I walked as calmly as I could to the toilet before sprinting like a demon into a cubicle.

Sadly that was just day one of excruciating diarrhoea which hit me in bouts for a week.

Almost identical to what happened to me when returning from Sharm El Sheikh, except the pains started ten minutes into the flight home. I have never felt pain like it and spent the entire five hour flight bent double whilst waiting for the toilet queues to die down, as standing in them just wasn't an option.

Such a shame that that is my lasting memory of my honeymoon.

[Cyber_soccer]

Akritoi, on Mar 25 2008, 22:54, said:

Worst shits are always after a heavy night out, always.

Best shits are always after a heavy night out, always.

This post has been edited by Cyber_soccer: 17 February 2009 - 14:04

[McMuffin]

I just had diarrhoea.

[Aufc]

Hvae to say this thread has made my day a lot quicker.

Only story i can think of is when i was travelling in Australia. We were on fraser island which is basically where you rent these ridiculously top heavy jeeps and fire around the island which is the biggest sand island in the world i think. Anyways at night we had set up our camp and i had produced a culinary delight of spag bol. I was firing into the goon which is basicallly very cheap wine which has traces of fish parts although it does taste pretty good considering. After a few shandies i feel the need for what i think is going to be a small turd. So i trot off, spade in hand, with my toilet roll to find a quiet spot to complete my mission. After considering many potential spots, including the girls area, i decided on a secluded spot about 30 yards from the jeeps.

I dig my spot and do my best helicopter impression, hovering over the hole dug seconds earlier. Anyways after a standard crap, i turn around to see 3 wild dingos (they are everywhere on the island) staring at my hairy arse salivating at what i can only presume to be the pretty rotten smell of spag bol and rose goon (classy) mixed in with previous nights BBQ which has been demolished with ease. Anyways gave my bum a quick wipe and trotted away, after filling the hole in quickly, to avoid getting a dingo bite on my cheeks.

Didnt think anything more of it until the next day when i got lumbered in the girls jeep. Not bad i hear you say. Well i didnt change my breeks as i felt this was all part of the camping experience. The smell coming from my arse was, in a word, simply disgusting. It was that proper rotten shitty smell where my breeks have been stuck between my unwiped cheeks all night. The look on the foreigh girls faces was pretty priceless. Everytime i stood up or moved the smell would waft straight up their noses. Eventually i somehow managed to manouevre (spelling?) myself into a position whereby the smell would not eminate. I spent the whole journey blaming on those "bloody dingos". I think i threw the offending pair of boxers out as it was another 24 hours before i got out of them. Lovely.

This post has been edited by Aufc: 17 February 2009 - 12:14