For Sale: Foffa Single Speed Custom-built bicycle

I woke up in the middle of the night with aching stomach pains. I hadn't eaten or drank anything rough but as i sleepily rushed to the loo i knew something was wrong.

With both eyes still mostly shut i pulled down my pants and out fired something the texture of melting chocolate ice cream. As i turned round to sit on the loo, i looked down at the floor. Staring back at me as my girlfriends monkey bathmat, with his tongue sticking out and a speech bubble exclaiming "Yum!". Covered in my poo.

After 20 minutes emptying myself, and a quick shower, i crawled back into bed. My girlfriend asked if i was okay:

"I've shat all over your monkey mat" i said and fell straight back to sleep.

School trip, steaming hot day on a coach. Fellow pupil a few seats in front touching cloth, but too timid to ask the coach to stop. In what must have seemed like a great idea he decides to take a discrete crap, hoping no-one will notice. To compound this awful idea, looks around for a suitable container and decides an empty crisp packet should fit the bill nicely. Moments late the coach is filled with the foulest stench imaginable. While a crisp packet holds a reasonable portion of salty snacks, I now know that you can't get a more than a fairly small turd into one. he managed to cover himself, trousers, hair for Christ sake and the plush coach seat in shit. to neatly tie this anecdote in with the theme of the thread, if there is someone out there who thinks you can have an unnoticed shit into a crisp packet on a hot crowded school coach, there is a potential market for a second hand foffa at £500

Once my mate was at home, in the days before cordless house phones were common, and his boss decided to call him for a quick 45 minute chat. A few minutes in, he realised he desperately needed to lay some cable

Not being the kind of guy to say 'can I call you back in five? I think someone's at the door', he decided it was better to use whatever was within the radius of the fully extended phone cord, which happened to be a McDonald's bag

Probably the nicest thing to have been inside it.

Once my mate was at home, in the days before cordless house phones were common, and his boss decided to call him for a quick 45 minute chat. A few minutes in, he realised he desperately needed to lay some cable

Not being the kind of guy to say 'can I call you back in five? I think someone's at the door', he decided it was better to use whatever was within the radius of the fully extended phone cord, which happened to be a McDonald's bag

But how great knowing you were taking a dump mid call to the boss!!

this thread.

My dad was on a business trip to Hong Kong and was overcome by an inevitable bout of diarrhea. Rather than use the loo in the hotel lobby, he decided to make a rush up to his room when disaster seemed imminent. Don't ask me why. It was a fairly posh hotel with an extra reception desk on the floor where his room was. Halfway up he realizes it's not going to work. As the doors open, he releases a roar of anguish along with his bowel contents, causing the little Chinese man behind the desk to scream in horror and bolt out the fire escape. Dad, very pleased with scaring him, shuffles to his room with shit trailing behind him on the carpet.

Did you go to a posh school in London? I've got a mate who tells the exact same story, with the embellishment that as the teacher made everyone leave before she dealt with the fallout she loudly and repeatedly instructed the pupils "don't look at him - DO NOT LOOK AT HIM" as he lay foetally in his own mess. Needless to say, they did look at him.

School trip, steaming hot day on a coach. Fellow pupil a few seats in front touching cloth, but too timid to ask the coach to stop. In what must have seemed like a great idea he decides to take a discrete crap, hoping no-one will notice. To compound this awful idea, looks around for a suitable container and decides an empty crisp packet should fit the bill nicely. Moments late the coach is filled with the foulest stench imaginable. While a crisp packet holds a reasonable portion of salty snacks, I now know that you can't get a more than a fairly small turd into one. he managed to cover himself, trousers, hair for Christ sake and the plush coach seat in shit. to neatly tie this anecdote in with the theme of the thread, if there is someone out there who thinks you can have an unnoticed shit into a crisp packet on a hot crowded school coach, there is a potential market for a second hand foffa at £500

No, semi posh one in Lincs. Maybe it was the same bloke doing the same thing again, I recall he left the school not long afterwards.

And to think it was me who started this shitter-shatter.

Ah just remembered another classic - about 10 years ago me and a mate went to the shittest club in town for the '£1 a bottle' night. Ended up strawpedo-ing untold bottles of VK for a laugh and getting terrible heartburn. My mate decides to down a pint of milk when we get back. Naturally it didn't agree with his stomach, and half an hour later he ends up projectiling cottage cheese all over his bathroom

"He is getting married next weekend. That story is in the best mans speech."

Different girl I presume...

"And to think it was me who started this shitter-shatter."

Well, wleigh123 really, but rep nonetheless...

Some Friends and I went travelling to the summit of Vulcan Arenal in Costa Rica, but by the time we got to our rest point halfway up where there is flatland, jungle, a lake & some beautiful scenery it was pitch black. So we fumbled our way around the camping area and pitched a tent near the lake's edge. As it was better to be nearest to the lake than the Jungle at night. "Damn Boa's"

So one of my friends said he needed to use the bathroom so he and I left the group of girls in search of a Male WC facility or any WC facility. Couldn't find it. But we wandered across this hard brick structure that had no windows and very old brickwork. We thought it was abandoned.

So he took a dump on the far side of the structure in the bushes and flung the toilet paper in the bushes.We made our way back to the tents washed up by the lake and went to bed.

The next morning we woke up and all the girls were chattering amongst themselves. There was a big commotion.

Turned out. The structure wasn't abandoned. It was an old open air style Catholic church. The Bush on the far side was facing all the travellers that were returning from their trek. So it wasn't hidden. The paper he threw was all over the bushes used side up for the most part.

Man that was a shocker. Police came out and everything.

Oh and if you were wondering the day we arrived there was a huge Boa Constrictor that had been caught and killed just outside reception at the bottom of the Volcano. We saw guys taking pictures.

Did it mistake a large stool for some kind of lizard, swallow it, then instantly regret it's greedy nature and choke to death, snakey lips covered in fecal froth?

nah happened earlier in the day unfortunately before the Church fiasco. But that would've really been unbelievable

After the 1987 hurricane I noticed that a few ridge tiles had been blown from my roof and lay shattered all over the ground. My next door neighbour, and old boy named George, offered to go and get some new ones in the week and help me fit them on the weekend. He was a really helpful and handy bloke, in his late 70s.
On the saturday morning we rigged up one extension ladder on to the roof and another laying flat on the roof to reach the ridge.
George was quite keen to fit the ridge tiles when we were on the ground, but once he got onto the ladder on the roof, with the ridge tiles as well, he started to get a bit nervous.
I was at the top of the ladder against the wall and he was making his way up the roof ahead of me when he stopped, I think fairly scared.
Suddenly he let out a parp that was clearly not just gas. I didn't realise, I thought he needed a hand with the tile, so I started to climb a bit higher up to get a bit closer.
It was then that I noticed the large spreading damp patch in the seat of his pants, the smell and the look on Georges face. We both came down that ladder like firemen down slippery pole.
Me desperately trying to avoid what was by now leaking majorly from his trousers, and was making the ladders a hazard, George trying to get down and home.

Jack Casey used to be a hot-shot stock market whiz kid. After a disastrous professional decision, his life in the fast lane was over. He lost his nerve and joined a speed delivery firm which relies on bicycles to avoid traffic jams of San Francisco, is attracted to a fellow bicycler, Terri, and befriends Hector, a budding entrepreneur.

Then they all poo

Movie title: "Shitstorm!"

Fecal Rush...

A lass who used to live in the same house as me. She had a really fit sister, totally out of my league, but we got on well so she invited me to stay with her at her parents house in Oxford one weekend.

I went down there, met the parents, got on really well with everyone.

I was on my best behaviour as they were pretty posh, and I really wanted to bang this lass. I knew I couldn't fuck up.

That evening, before dinner, I realised I need a shit. I made my excuses, went upstairs, got sat down, let it go.

It was fine. Textbook.

But when I started wiping it wouldn't come clean. Every wipe had a stripe.
I was using a lot of bog roll so I had to give it a quick flush. I didn't want to block their bog.
Strike one.
Still my arse wouldn't clean, so reluctantly I had a bit of a probe.

I felt something weird sticking out of my arse.

Stomach churns, blood drains from my face. 'Fuck', I thought. 'I'm shitting out a tapeworm.'
With shaky hands I fashioned a 'glove' from bog roll, gripped this thing sticking out of my arse, and pulled.
It was horrible. I could feel it sliding out from deep inside me, right up in my colon somewhere. I let out a loud moan of horror.
I pulled and pulled, feeling this huge slithering thing slipping out of my spasming anus, until eventually it came out with a slap against the porcelain of the bog.
Reluctantly, I took a look.
I looked again.
It was the longest piece of undigested onion I've ever seen. It must have been ten inches long.
How the fuck did that get there? I didn't know they grew onions that big! And how the fuck did I eat it without choking to death?
Anyway, I shoved it down the bog. Gave it another flush.
Strike two.
The onion wouldn't go away. It just kind of swam around the bowl, looking like a massive piece of undigested onion, a sight that would create wonder and revulsion in anyone who cast eyes on it.
I flushed again.
Strike three.
Still the fucking onion wouldn't go away. I lobbed bog roll on it in the hope the ballast would make it go away, flushed again.
Strike four.
Onion boy still swished around in the bowl.
I couldn't flush again. There was no bin in the room. I had to get rid of it.
I reached into the toilet and fished out the revolting length of onion with my bare hands, gagging all the time, lifted the cistern lid and slung the fucker in.
Then I washed my hands like someone with OCD.
Then I had to face my hosts after spending twenty minutes in the toilet while moaning and repeatedly flushing, with a grey, sweating face.
They were very polite about it but I knew I'd blown it.
Dinner was casserole with lots of onions.
I didn't eat a fucking thing.

Did you get a yentz?

Did I fuck. The only stink finger I got was from myself.