For Sale: Foffa Single Speed Custom-built bicycle

I have shit myself mind. Back at primary school I had the deep honour of being on an equal footing with the queen of the maypole party we were throwing for all staff and pupils, plus family and the local press tired of reporting stolen hedges. Essentially I did her every bidding but got to sit alongside her at the top-table throughout the food once the dancing had finished, to make her look all the more resplendent even though my hair was better, which for a so blond it's yellow heavy basin-cut doesn't paint her in very grand terms.

I took the burden of responsibility in my stride by crapping myself in the corridor before we went outside to greet the crowd. I knew it was coming but the bastard teacher in charge was fearful a provincial rag would laugh at him in print if we were late so refused to let me go. Faced with this I kept my cool and squeezed it out gently, hoping a lack of effort would negate any smell. But sure enough within a second everyone was pointing and laughing at me as I looked around for someone else to hopelessly blame.

As we walked out into the summer sun to greet an expectant audience and proud parents, a berth formed around me except the poor maypole queen, who had to hold my hand while she gagged. We danced around the maypole and sat at the table as instructed, all the while the mess in my pants turning to mush. For hours I stank and was humiliated, but I'm not bitter as I murdered that fucking teacher some years later, laughing throughout at his pain.

My parents still have the press cutting of the event, including a close-up photo showing me and the queen sat with fake smiles as our stomachs churned. Whenever I look at it I fondly remember the only time I have ever pooped myself, but there's no telling what tomorrow may bring.

That sounds er.. 'character-building'