Best Sh1t

Just finishing work and looking forwar dto getting home and having a good old fashioned cr*p. Got me to thinking what is the best stool I've ever laid.

Back when I was still in short trousers I had a bout of constipation while on exercise. Two weeks in beautiful Breacon had turned my body into something an east european goat herder would have been ashamed of. I stumbled back to my room after having cleaned weapons etc and was looking forward to washing the filth from my body. Then it struck.

My guts seized and I felt like I was giving birth. My constipation was no more and I had 10 days of compo to get rid of. With sweating brow I ran, Norman Wisdom style down the hall to the throne. Shaking with pain and anticipation I enetered the stall and braced myself. The pain. The pain.

2 weeks of minimal washing had left my arrse hair in something of a matted state. To break through was like the Yanks getting through the bocage in '44. With much effort the stool appeared. The size was something to behold. My arrse was at full stretch and I felt like I was being fisted by Popeye. After much grunting, wailing and a few tears, it left. Like a professional diver, no splash, it just glided off. I felt like a new man. 2 stone lighter and with a smile.

When people ask what are my most memerable experiences, this is one. As far as I know, the stool was bought by the Dutch and is now used as a dyke.
Only yesterday I was caught a little short and my stomach contracted like a recoiling cobra...... It was no good I had to find the nearest porcelain.

Thankfully the gaff we are working on is nearly finished and the plumbing 95% complete........ I ran to the trumping pot to find the seat hadn't been put on yet.

Not a problem I hovered over the rim and like a patrolling Nimrod dropped a depth charge of epic proportions into the brand new throne.

When I turned around dilemma hit home, no bog roll...... wondering what state my hoop was in I stood up, turned round to look whether it was a clean crimp or whether my starfish would like melted flake bar.

I wasn't ready for what I saw....... fcuk me it was like a sea lion.... If I'd thrown it a fish I'm sure it would have caught it. I was overcome by a slight fear wondering whether it would grab me and throw me down the pot and wipe its own arse before embarking on a plot of global domination

Thanfully it was a relatively clean snap off and only required me to pull one sock off to wipe my plopslot. I stood back as I flushed in case it took me with it.......... As it set off on its seaward journey I'm sure I heard it giggle and scream 'Banzai'

Been thinking about it all day and feel almost gutted that I never kept it
A few years back, I managed to blag an attachment from my OTC to a squadron of donkey wallopers, playing OPFOR on a Med Man.

Being a uni student, I was used to a regular and relaxed daily release, usually powered by lager from the previous night, whilst reading the Daily Sport or some other high class newspaper.

The mixture of no beer, rat packs (especially the goulash) and days of bouncing around the prairie in an ancient Salamander produced an effect almost identical to your description.

I doubt it's now being used as a dyke but I remain convinced that it could very easily have sunk the Tirpitz if the crabs had dropped it from the right height.
This all proves the theory that there is nothing so underrated as a good sh1t and nothing so overrated as bad sex. :lol:


Book Reviewer
A few weeks back MiB had a very grown up evening of chicken tikka madras, coconut rice and six pints of Old Hooky.

The following morning Doginblack woke me at 6am, enthusiastic in her determination to lick the salt from my forhead as a bowel swell induced sweat added to my hangover.

I realised whilst trying to get downstairs that by moving two legs at the same time I reduced the chance of terminal hoop collapse but alas the old "Skippy The Bush Kangaroo" walk also takes too much time and the arrse pate was straining at the gates having heard the call of the wild and sniffed the forest like pine odour of the bog cleaner.

Having managed to shove my muzzle over the throne with only limited seepage into the crack area I whistled the Dambusters March as the walls came tumbling down and something with the consistency of freshly mixed cement emerged over half a minute.

Being a suspicious chap I stood up, pre wipe, and checked the bowl.

There was a pile shaped like a bowl of melting ice cream that had displaced most of the water and was sticking up clear of the surface of the remaining fluid.

I had filled the pot!

I had to wipe and stash the used paper aside so that I could give the amorphous mass a decent send off and check it had gone.

After two flushes the water was still the colour of ratpack coffee. Three flushes cleared it and the fourth got rid of the paper.

An excellent morning's work.
a little while ago, i stayed over at a girls house who i had previously met that evening (as you do).
The evening consisted of about a million gallons of guinness and a few munchies, all complimented by a large italian meal containing many many chillies.

a few hours later, i felt the inevitable rumble of death down below- and tried to cover it up by saying i was still a bit peckish. Bollockks. It was my stomachs way of telling me i was a cnut. A few more hours went by with some vigourous exercise and a few stealth farts- and then it hit.

The end of the tunnel- i was gonna have to go for a poo.
King poo.

I snuck out of the bedroom over the creaky wooden floor- trying desperately not to wake her up, and went in to the bog to lay the next transatlantic cable without making too much noise.
Would it move- would it bollockks.
A large mega push and out it shot-
SPLOOSH- all of the water displaced and came out over the top, soaking the floor and dripping through to downstairs' bedroom who began screaming. I was so surprised at getting a freezing arrse that i lent backwards- taking the cistern off the wall completely- triggering the worlds first south london tsunami.
So there i was- dilemma-
do i - A. run into the bedroom grab clothes etc. and fook off before she realises whats happened?
B. try to explain that i have just laid the largest dog egg in the now shattered bog- resembling an SBS demolition operation?
C. ty to get my leg over to distract her from the pouring water noise coming from the bathroom. (not likely)

Well- i decided for A- ran into the bedroom- went into action dressing and ran like a tw@ down the road-
Mission accomplished.

King poo deployed.

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