For Sale: Foffa Single Speed Custom-built bicycle

I used to work with a guy who would shit himself regularly, like a few times a week. Good times getting a hot bus back from town with him.

By work with I mean support, not as a colleague.

By support I mean touch while sleeping, not look after.

^ I'm listening...

Why is it shitting aquafresh?

That's where Aquafresh comes from.

Unicorns also piss Listerine.

Uludag, Turkish ski resort 1991:
A week of hotel cuisine hits me in middle of a ski lesson. I make it to end of lesson and, to the surprise of (beginners) ski instructor, Mehmet, straightline it down the mountain as soon as lesson has ended. Unclip, dump poles and skis, rush into nearest hotel foyer. Find toilets, make it, relief. No. Problem. BIG PROBLEM. Belt of all-in-one skisuit tied into fatally tight knot. Start ripping frantically at clothes. Break zips, suit comes off. But too late, shit streams all over skisuit. Shit is flicked all over toilet stall and adjacents stalls, as I try to remove remainder of skisuit. Bystanding Turkish men want to beat me. I leave. Rush back to my hotel. Not allowed in with ski boots. Return to hire shop and swop hired boots for shoes, brownstreaked and reeking. Back to hotel. No hotel key. Passing cleaner opens room, poo drips slowly from skisuit trousers onto running shoes.

Think that's what's known as a brown run....

"I used to work with a guy who would shit himself regularly, like a few times a week. Good times getting a hot bus back from town with him."

He can take over my colostomy bag when I'm having my reconstructed arse switched back on next week. Sooo looking forward to having a proper shit!

Be sure to give us a detailed account of it here. I've worked with colostomy bagged people as well, they are minging.

When I say worked...

^ I'm listening...

My mate Keith tells a great story in his Northern Irish accent of how he shat himself on a guided Tour up a mountain in New Zealand. Purely by chance he had a spare pair of hiking trousers and manages to dissapear behind a bush to change. He just left the soiled trousers and his pants on the mountain.

Dirty bastard.

Hope he left his ID in the pocket and he's on some wall of shame somewhere.

Haaaa that would have been good.

He shits himself all the time after a few beers.

He'd be great subject matter for Luci..

My good friend and one time flat mate who I shall call Lexington shat his pants on a date once.

He was on the tube with the girl going to a bar and was rapidly overcome with extreme diarrhea stomach pains and sweats. He tried to style it out and hold on until they got to a venue with a toilet but as you all know, toilet facilities on the tube are few and far between.

The story goes that he made it about three stops before standing up as the doors opened at Bank station and released a torrent of watery shit into his pants and ran off the train without word of explanation or goodbye to the girl as the diarrhea ran down his leg and into his shoes and onto the floor.

The poor bastard had to ring me up to come and pick him up in the car. We put a bin bag on the seat for him to sit on and drove back to the flat with our heads out of the window.

When the girl called to ask wtf he without hesitation responded "I shit my pants".

I admired his honesty. She didn't.

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

"There's no sense getting older, if you don't get wiser..."

At some time in the late 1980's, prior to heading for off to a scooter rally in Morecambe, I rashly drank all my beer money before we'd even left.

Thirsty and sober in the North West, I gamely offered to drink a bottle of two-stroke oil in return for a bottle of beer.

The combination of Castrol R and Newcastle Brown had a predictably relaxing effect on my insides and I rode home wearing only waterproof overtrousers stuffed with toilet paper: what remained of my shreddies and trews languishing in the sink of the B&B.

Approximately twenty years later I wolfed some eighteen pints of Mild in a bravura demonstration of manly daring-do. The next morning in the shower I was startled to see an oily black slick around my feet and part-digested pork scratchings between my toes, following a modest "parp"!

With the flat being a low-ceilinged, basement affair and me being a hunky 6' 3" meant that I had to shower stooped over. Such close proximity to the debris of the previous night resulted in an unstoppable gag-reflex, shortly to be followed by the contents of my stomach. This pitiful wretching caused convulsions that squirted what was left in my bowels all over the cubicle as I desperately tried to escape the carnage.

The calamity alerted my (then) girlfriend, who burst in to be confronted by my hunched and naked form in a maelstrom of vomit and shit.

You're welcome.

Thread ends

Thirsty and sober in the North West, I gamely offered to drink a bottle of two-stroke oil in return for a bottle of beer.
Jesus wept...

[Edit] Christ - I just read the rest.

Now TW2 wept...

Thread ends

no it doesn't, it just goes on getting better and better

Idle curiosity more than anything, but given the distinct aroma of Castrol R when it's in a motorbike engine, did your farts have that tinge to them too?

I used to keep bin bags in the car when I worked with the previously mentioned repeated shitter, I often drove with my head out the window.

Best thread on lfgss right now...

...in terms of shits and giggles...

[QUOTE=Scilly Suffolk;3732439The calamity alerted my (then) girlfriend, who burst in to be confronted by my hunched and naked form in a maelstrom of vomit and shit.

[/QUOTE]

(then) girlfiend - surely she must still be with you? How could she possibly find anyone better?