Best and worst Khazi

Most Royal Marines from the late 80s who have had their photos published in a well known magazine, newspaper or poster will beam with pride at the sight of them abseiling down a cliff, charging off a Rigid Raider, blatting a few rounds off, or yomping over some moors.

In Combat & Survival magazine, I remember a feature about Royal Marine basic training, and one lucky recruit was pictured on a field toilet. Not even a thunderbox - this was just a small dustbin sized receptacle, lined with chemicals, on which he was sat down for a number two. Totally exposed to the elements. Not even behind a bush or some trees.

His only saving grace was that he had his back to the camera, so nobody except him and one or two others will know who he is. I wonder if he passed out, and did he show that pic to anybody? I can imagine him chatting up some lass, "Yeah, that's Jock, with the spare ammo, that's Scouse holding the bergan, and that's me on the bog there."
 

ugly

LE
Moderator
My great-grandmother died on the khazi. If that helps!

Stroked out and fell against the door of the tiny bog. GGF and GF had to climb a ladder, break the window and pull her backwards.

Pretty ignominious way to check out.
Roger Roger our site access controller so called because of his peculiar VP checked out on the throne. Unfortunately it was after an epic Guinness session, he weighed in wet at about 28 stones and lived above an Indian takeaway. It was four days before his smell was found to be stronger than the take away!.
 
My great-grandmother died on the khazi. If that helps!

Stroked out and fell against the door of the tiny bog. GGF and GF had to climb a ladder, break the window and pull her backwards.

Pretty ignominious way to check out.
Aka The Elvis.
 
My great-grandmother died on the khazi. If that helps!

Stroked out and fell against the door of the tiny bog. GGF and GF had to climb a ladder, break the window and pull her backwards.

Pretty ignominious way to check out.
Elvis was @Tedsson 's Great Grandmother................who knew!
 

Ravers

LE
Kit Reviewer
Book Reviewer
The shitters on a stumpy 42 certainly take some beating.

Batch 1 and 2 Type 42 Destroyers were well known for having very poor quality sewage treatment plants. They’d get blocked very quickly and the slightest sign of any cleaning detergent or similar, chucked down them, would cause the entire ship to reek of slightly burnt shit and rotten eggs.

Coupled with plumbing that didn’t work properly, any user of the aft heads was in for quite a treat, especially in a storm.

You have not lived until you’ve sat on a shitter in flip flops, while ankle deep piss laps at your feet and the occasional turd floats gracefully between your toes.

Also, throw 280 ish horrible creatures who are shitfaced most of the time into the mix. With them obviously comes vandalism, spaff purposefully smeared on door handles, and turds carefully balanced on the tops of doors.

Fuck I miss the Navy.
 
The shitters on a stumpy 42 certainly take some beating.

Batch 1 and 2 Type 42 Destroyers were well known for having very poor quality sewage treatment plants. They’d get blocked very quickly and the slightest sign of any cleaning detergent or similar, chucked down them, would cause the entire ship to reek of slightly burnt shit and rotten eggs.

Coupled with plumbing that didn’t work properly, any user of the aft heads was in for quite a treat, especially in a storm.

You have not lived until you’ve sat on a shitter in flip flops, while ankle deep piss laps at your feet and the occasional turd floats gracefully between your toes.

Also, throw 280 ish horrible creatures who are shitfaced most of the time into the mix. With them obviously comes vandalism, spaff purposefully smeared on door handles, and turds carefully balanced on the tops of doors.

**** I miss the Navy.
The navy? I thought you were describing the Mersey ferry
 
I've told this before on here sometime previously, but worst for me cos of situation was one time coming home on leave from Germany.
I was trundling my way through Belgium and I could slowly feel the pressure of a turdicous gigantious building up.
as usual it got worse and I started to get that twitchy arrse feeling and a bit of a sweat on.
with relief through the dark of the night I saw the sign for some services ahead.
I pulled in and my arrse was now seriously twitching and I had to really clamp my arrse cheeks together as I did the shuffle to the bog - one of only. I already had my belt undone as the bum gravy was almost at the point of no return.
I entered said shitter and my eyes were out on stalks as obviously a murder had taken place. The walls and inside of door were covered in blood and shit and needless to say the seatless toilet was rammed with a mountain of shit.
Fuck me, I squirmed outside and waddled my way into bushes where I let forth a stream of bum gravy using my grundies to clean up.

The grotty Belgium bastards.
 
On a beach in Cuba there was a recently and very attractively built hut like a high class garden shed. Looking into the door was what looked like a new toilet with decent cistern and a new wash basin. It didn’t matter though it looked like everyone had stood outside, shit into slingshots and blindly fired it through the door. Walls floor ceiling some actually near and in the shitter.
 

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