For Sale: Foffa Single Speed Custom-built bicycle

i just ate greek yogurt post every meal.

poo has resumed it's normal stoic form and resultant ploppy-good sonority when diving into the bowl like a well fed dolphin at sea-world.

There was a kid called Pauly in the year above me at school who was thicker than treacle. He could hardly spell his own name. He hung around on the fringes of a fairly cool set, but none of the gold rubbed of on him. Pauly was 90% chimp.

Anyway, no lasses would go out with Pauly. They knew what an utter donkey he was, a ham handed fuckwit of the highest order. Physically he resembled Norman Wisdom - short, gimpy and incredibly clumsy.

Then we got some French exchange students come to school.
Somewhere in the dim recesses of Pauly's mind he realised that they didn't know him, they did not yet know what a fucking clown he was. One of these French lasses looked like Vanessa Paradise, she totally outshone any of the lasses at our school by a country mile. She was gorgeous.

Pauly shuffled up to her, asked her out.

She said oui.

No-one could believe it. He was necking with her here, holding hands with her there, with an expression on his face like a council tenant lottery winner.
Every lad was jealous. We didn't even try to hide it. We were sick to our stomachs to think of that gibbon mauling her golden skin with his grubby paws.

One day we all got on the school bus to go home. Pauly didn't get on. He was walking the French girl to her bus stop, further up the road.
Our bus crept out of the gate, into the slow moving school run traffic. From the top deck we could see Paul with his French girl, one hand holding her bag, the other cupping her arse.
Angry mutterings throughout the bus.
Pauly was grinning at us behind her back like a PG Tips chimp, waggling his eyebrows and darting his tongue in a classic 'licking her out' action.
The bus got angrier.
Then someone said, "Look at the size of that dog shit!"
It was massive, a big ginger curly wurly of crap, a good kilo of stinking turds, steaming on the pavement.
We knew who put it there.
God, that's who. This was surely justice. Only God's dog could crimp off a monster like that.
Pauly kept pulling faces, not watching his step. It was like watching a slow motion car crash. You could hear everyone muttering, "go on, a few more steps, pleeeease don't notice..."
Pauly didn't notice.
He stood squarely into that huge shit. His slip-on shoe went deep into it, right up to his socks.
The bus exploded into huge cheer, like our team had scored in the 90th minute. Pauly's foot slid along the pavement like was wearing a dirty rollerskate, and then he fell into the turd. He thrashed on the ground, trying to get to his feet and save his dignity, not yet aware of why he'd fallen. Shit smeared all over his trousers, onto his blazer, onto his hands. Pauly was rolling in shit.
The bus was pissing itself laughing, driving slowly past like a carnival float of howling mockery.
French girl started screaming, obviously shocked that her boyfriend was rolling in shit like a retarded dog.Pauly realised he was totally covered in dog shit and managed to get up, standing there, mortified. As we sailed down the road the last thing we saw was Pauly's hapless expression. He knew that for something as good as the French girl to happen to him, something equally vile must also occur, otherwise the world would implode.

And yes, the French girl dumped him.
As ever, a fine read Luci, even if it is a shit story.

Amazing ^^ No smell is worse than rotting sheep.

Sidi's smell like rotting sheep - not mine, obviously.

For type 6 and/or 7 you may want to consider a shit transplant.

Space docking on the NHS?

^

))<<>>((

my nizzle

get it right guys.

http://laughingsquid.com/the-squatty-potty-a-toilet-step-stool-made-for-the-perfect-poop/

I had knee surgery which resulted in my inability to squat properly. The modern shitter is a godsend as far as I'm concerned.

You can always lean forward a little to recreate the correct squat angle, no need to head for the rose bushes just yet.

I perfected the angle back in '99 when I was allowed to use my knee again.

Ive always squatted next to the loo and shat on some newspaper then transfer it to the loo.

Its good if you ever want to examine your stool

Believe it or not, I'm NOT anally fixated.

Buy one of these;

She'll be posting on the thread shortly about the time she filled her kecks with shit when posing for a photoshoot.

No point in me buying one of those. I can't close my right knee joint/rest on my haunches.

How about your laurels?

Never rested on those - they lack support.

Buy one of these;

Hot.

Ive always squatted next to the loo and shat on some newspaper then transfer it to the loo.

Its good if you ever want to examine your stool

Dutch toilets are the way forward if you keen to examine your leftovers. Which can tell you a lot, more than if you've eating sweetcorn. Or so I've been told.

Those things scared me when I did a German exchange thing at school.

Why would they invent such a thing?!?!?!?!!!!!

http://static1.fjcdn.com/thumbnails/comments/lt+---our+government+when+they+saw+this+%E2%80%82+_bf4d8031483a2fb8927dd4e8589efb10.gif

they replaced the shitters at work a year or so ago with one's that had the splash zone too far forward, the skid marks were so bad they made the plumbers put the old ones back.

Broken link