Very funny!

[Johnboy]

Came across this gem on P&B the other day... Hope it doesn't offend Mannie's sense of good taste and decency.

Been a while since i've had a noteworthy visit to the thunderbox, but thanks to my new diet, I at last have something to be proud of.

I've start doing loads of gym work, and weights, which means eating a lot more than i used to. This of course results in a more frequent need to bomb China. Especially now as my diet now includes a lot of pasta and chicken based dishes, one of which is curry. I used to enjoy the occasional fairly-nippy-but-not-severe curried dish, but have recently found myself having them a bit more regularly, and hotter.

Tuesday night saw me accidentally consume a hot madras. I say accidentally, because i'm in the habit of making a load of varied curries, pastas etc at the start of the month and sticking them in the freezer for later consumption. However, i learned this month that i really should label these, especially considering all the curries i made were roughly similar in colour. So, as luck would have it, i ended up having the hot madras, which took nearly 45 minutes to eat, amongst bouts of sweating and near tears.

Anyway, fast forward to Wednesday, a day which i didn't really enjoy, such was my terror at the though of being afflicted by a bad case of Hawaiin Sunrise at any given moment. The morning passed without incident, without so much as a fart. I went for a 3 mile run at lunchtime, which although resulted in a few slightly warm farts, didn't produce any significant movement. Moving along, the afternoon was also fairly serene. I started to worry. Where the f**k was it? Why had the molten lava i'd eaten for tea last night not made a rush for the exit?

Finally, 5pm came and i left work for the 10 minute drive back to Kirriemuir. As i was halfway Kirrie, i had a quick smoke. BAD FECKING MOVE. A couple of minutes later, and driving through the small village of Maryton just outside town, i had that horrible sinking feeling of pain in my abdomen.

"Oh no" i thought. I knew what was coming. This signalled a race against time to complete the near impossible task of getting from just outside town, to my house, park the car, unlock the door, and make it to the bathroom without shitt1ng myself. It seemed impossible. A couple of corners later, I unleashed a fart of terrifying velocity, and odour. I wanted to retch as the stench filtered upwards from the drivers seat to my notrils. Opening the window again had little effect. I'm sure the woman in the car behind saw me trying to waft away the stink with my hand, eyes screwed up, mouthing "f**k's sakes".

I still had just under a mile to go. I knew the next "contraction" wouldn't be just air. I was stuck behind a line of cars crawling into Kirriemuir. I took a shortcut. Onto a road with the bumpiest junction in christendom. Somehow i held on. 3 minutes later, through sweat, tears, and possibly blood, i managed to park outside my house. Why do your doorkeys never work properly first time when you're dying for a ****? Anyway, got into the house. I'm touching cloth by now. I'm hanging on so desperately that i'm now actually getting shooting pains in my arse.

Somehow, against all odds, my arse is now parked on the toilet seat. Indeed it's barely touched down, when the most relieving ***** i've ever had depth charges the toilet bowl. I actually cried out "Oh my ******* god". It was fantastic. I actually have the shakes for a few seconds afterwards. I think i've had my first ever shitgasm.

It's time to inspect my handiwork. Somehow, in the space of what could only have been 2 or 3 seconds, i've fired out 4 sizable toilet babies, plus the usual pebbledashing. I feel a wee sense of pride, and about half a stone lighter. For once, i don't even care that it takes nearly a third of a roll of toilet paper to properly clean my arse, which must have resembled the aftermath of a food fight involving only chocolate angel delight.

What i didn't know, and only found out to my embarrasment yesterdary was, that the local Betterware wifey had walked up the path after me to collect the book she'd left the week before, chapped the door (which i hadn't heard) and heard my proclamation of joy from the slightly open bathroom window above.

I should probably be cringing, but i'm actually a little proud

[tm4tj]

:_talktalktalk:

Wow, I can relate to that. It's no laughing matter at the time, trust me.

[Libero]

We've all been there

No words can describe the feeling of relief when you finally manage to begin the evacutation

[Johnboy]

:_talktalktalk:

Wow, I can relate to that. It's no laughing matter at the time, trust me.

We've all been there

No words can describe the feeling of relief when you finally manage to begin the evacutation

Yeap..... Ghandi's Revenge is no laughing matter.

[Snow]

Very evocative!

[PullMyFinger]

I'd like to be the first to congratulate them on the arrival of their new toilet babies.

[Yngwie]

That story reminds me of my first term at university. I went there as a country boy and a bit of a korma poof, so the introduction to the proper curries that Yorkshire had to offer was enlightening. I steadily made my way up the menu (which gave each curry a hotness rating out of 5 stars) and Madras became the standard. Anyway, pished on the last night of term, the other lads decided to dare the vindaloo, having talked about it for weeks. But no, I had to go one better. You know that 5 star rating? The Phal was rated a 6.

Every mouthful was torture, my eyes were red, and I was literally crying with every mouthful despite being so drunk I could otherwise feel no pain. But damn it, I did it, I did it.

I won't go into any sort of graphic detail, but as it was the last night of term, the next morning I had to spend several hours on the train back up to Scotland. It was the longest journey of all time, not just for me, but for all the other passengers.