Celebration of the Crapper

Discussion in 'Now That's What I Call NAAFI Bar' started by Cait, Feb 24, 2005.

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  1. When it comes to vacating my bowels Im not renound for being too choosy about where and when, as I have embarrassingly confessed to on several threads. In my defense there is a direct correlation between my toilet standards & alcohol consumed. :oops:

    However the other week I had I life changing experience, I was visiting our European neighbours in Denmark and after a few days of consuming nothing but beer and fish my guts were in rag order.

    Standing in bar I could feel my colon tying knots in itself, my palms starting to sweat as I clenched my bum cheeks tight to stop my sphincter dilating. Nervously I scanned the room for the nearest toilet, failing that the largest plant pot or beer glass. Not being able to speak a word of the lingo I spotted a door with a picture of a one legged chick on it and made my escape.

    I pushed open the trap door and there it stood in all it glory, a glistening porcelain charger. I promptly dropped my trollies, mounted it, rode it, wiped up (adopting the 3 wipes then check method), stood up and went to flush it.

    After several confusing moments and a rush of panic as I spied the mud monster lurking in the pan, I spied the sensor, waved my hand and it went off, sucking my beer/pickled herring combo into the abyss.

    But…. not only did this toilet flush with a royal wave of my left hand, the whole toilet seat rotated 360deg to clean itself!! I stood in absolute awe, I had to do it again….. and again. :D It made what normally would have been an uncomfortable, squatting to avoid sitting, realizing to late there was no toilet paper experience, into a pleasurable one.

    I don’t care who you are, we all value the precious few moments of peace, followed by relief when having a dump. This should be a celebrated experience and like our European neighbours we should make it as enjoyable as possible. I have so many god awful experiences with ill equipped ablutions, granted sometimes that was due to my choice of location :oops: (behind a phonebox, down the side of the bath etc).
    But in Denmark they had it so right, I would make a return visit just to use that crapper. :D

    Anyone else found such magic in the WC, what makes the perfect crapper?
     
  2. I was always fascinated by the trumping pots in BAOR...

    the sight of a jobby on a ledge prior to flushing was superb, especially if you could make it bend over the lip and into the water, is if having a form of 'pooey paddle'

    I recall more than one occasion that I was so impressed by what I had created that I had to leave it there and wipe my apple in another cubicle.. leaving my art piece for others to enjoy.

    The fashion soon cottoned on and I remember one particular stool (not mine) that stood higher than the basin of the bog... as if peeping out and acting as sentry over all his other jobby pals.. I can recall as if yesterday having to go into another block as all the traps had various displays and none warranted being flushed... How could I choose one to murder when all the others sat and watched me squeeze out another... :D
     
  3. a veritable "tony harts gallery" of stools MDN , and i,m sure the artists were all very proud.

    i must say , the kharzi in my new flat takes some beating , the bathroom is so long i have to phone my missus if the bog roll runs out , and there is a frosted velux window above the pan , so in summer i can open it , and enjoy an al fresco moment of bliss , and in the winter , theres nothing better than sitting down for a brown trout , with a nice brew and a good book , and listening to the elements battering on the window to my little piece of heaven.

    now all i need to do is work on my invention to produce a toilet seat that vibrates gently to help prevent dead leg syndrome from long protracted "3 chapter sh*ts" :D
     
  4. First time I came across one of the self cleaning toilet seats was in the Lufthansa (Luftwaffe) lounge at Heathrow. I was also so impressed, I had to tell evryone! It then succumbed to an onslaught of five squaddie's taking turns to use it and trying to get the thing to work while we sat on it, until an Obergrúppenfuhrer asked us to leave it alone.

    I always think the great outdoors is the best place. Halfway up a mountain, out of sight of the walking public, with just flossy looking on. Then again, thats another story ......
     
  5. "There is nothing in life as over-rated as a bad f*ck, or as under-rated as a good sh*t!"

    Gloria Hunniford - "Good morning Britain" 1989.
     
  6. ViroBono

    ViroBono LE Moderator

    This new-fangled foreign automatic cleaning stuff is all very well, but you can't beat a good old-fashioned damn-your-eyes British lavatory, complete with chain pull flush. Sitting regally high up, the user's arrse is positioned far enough from the water to avoid the occasional waterspouts created by poo bombs. The seating position is also much more comfortable for reading. What could be nicer, or more British, than a good dump on Twyford's finest porcelain, with brew in one hand and a volume of P G Wodehouse in the other, with Radio 4 in the background. Bliss.

    That said, I share MDN's fondness for German crappers. I was always amazed at the power of the water needed to remove a large gyros and wobbly jobby which was usually resisting going over the edge, like a salmons swinmming upstream to the mating grounds.
     
  7. In contrast to MDN, I have never been a big fan of the Kraut 'inspection pit' crapper. The problem is that they provide too much support to the turd in the final phase of the movement, when you really want it to be pulling away under its own power, in order to make a clean break and allow your ringpiece to slam shut without leaving too much residue. For those of us in search of the perfect 'Andy McNab', the long-drop British khazi is the only way forward.
     
  8. When deep in thought and when the mind wanders I often find myself wondering whereabouts the most battered bog is.

    My money would be on the two traps on Saltau... they must have shifted thoasands of tons of Eartha Kitt.

    I haven't had the pleasure of unloading there since the late eighties on a pre-medman but by thunder I recall it as if yesterday. I remember standing for half an hour in a queue three inches deep in p1ss from the over flowing urinals.... the musk filled room had an almost friendly aroma, despite it being a very dungy one.... is was a friendly pong as you knew that in a short space of time you would be sat on a porcelain throne and nothing else on earth would matter.

    You could hear wails of extacy and sighs of relief from the fellas in front of you as they forced out the first proper dump for what seemed like a lifetime.

    As you squeezed past the chap who had gone before you, could seee the holy grail.... a roll of comfy bum was a bonus but not essential.. just those first few moments of heaven as you begin to blow mud..... looking round the cubicle, you could hear sounds of those who couldn't wait any longer... those who were squeezing thier pods and jamming thier legs together... remaining gentlemanly though knowing the pleasure the chap inside was partaking in... I'm sure there were teeth marks in the door handle too.. All too quickly the experience drew to an end you had to do the honourable thing and let the next fella take his turn...

    It didn't matter that the seat was still warm and there were wheelspins the size of tractor skids on every wall of the pan.

    Anyone else know of a busy throne?
     
  9. After reading Chicken punks post I am now torn..... there is nothing more satifying than the sound of an enormous 'plop' as your waste pipe blows out its load and makes like a depth charge to the bottom of the bowl.

    It does have its draw backs though, this can create a tsunami that drenches the back or your sack and makes for uncomfortable wiping :D

    [​IMG]

    Armitage shanks and Twyfords........ We salute you!
     
  10. But the perfect turd is long enough so that the bows have entered the water before the stern has exited the ringpiece, allowing you to pass last night's Rogan Josh, Pilau rice and keema nan with barely a ripple to disturb the surface of the water, whilst still blowing through with enough power to ensure a clean break. The blast effect from a high velocity crap of lesser overall length can indeed cause a dangerous level of splashback and if, like me, one generally prefaces the dump with a swamp, might lead to unsightly stains and odours.
     
  11. For luxurious crapper heaven I can recommend Japan I was amazed when I first parked my arrse on a public bog there. The list of features include:

    1) A touch pad control panel to the side of the pan reminiscent of the space shuttle.

    2) Rotating seat cleaner

    3) Automatic extendable bidet feature that at the press of a button extends under your ring and blasts off those crusty cling ons that have formed during the hours spent finding out what all the buttons on above mentioned control panel are for.

    4) and of course the ultimate feature, (now before I go into this I have to mentioned that the Japanese are fairly shy sorts and publically farting at any level higher than 1dB results in ritual suicide) one of these buttons results in a loud electronically synthesised toilet flushing noise that masks any embarrassing and potentially fatal bottom burps.

    I had hours of fun and looked forward to every bowel emptying experience. :lol: :lol: :lol:
     
  12. Mine differs, when my fleet leaves the docks a large brown destroyer leads the way, followed closely by a flotilla of lesser but equally impressive veiny vessels... they all hit the water at varying intervals, thus giving splash backs and a sack soaking I could do without
     
  13. Mine generally resemble the closing stages of 'Titanic': a huge, long imprssive vessel, poised to plunge into the icy depths. I'm sure if one looked closely enough one would be able to see Kate Winslett and Leonardo di Caprio standing on the blunt end...
     
  14. Cracking thread, the NAAFI at it's best! :D

    Perhap's you ladies and gentlemen can help with an arguement we are having at the moment. Not every trip to the bog results in the perfect Andy McNabb, so for the times that you are caked with brown spackle, what is the best way to clean up, short of getting in the shower?

    Half the group here does the "reach around", starting from the family jewels (that would be your wookie monster, Cait) and wiping back, leaving a nice brown racing stripe up the back. The other half reaches between, starting at the back and pulling towards the boys. Which is the better method?

    Is there any problem that cannot be solved in the NAAFI? :D
     
  15. Chickenpunk wrote

    In a german Khazi that would be a traumatic day...... if you laid a cable like that it would hit the base then begin to fall forward scraping the underside of your bag in a kind of brown blue on blue...

    I vaguely recall the Rigger telling a similar story..... not sure he ever got over it