Dodgy Bowel Admin

Like most fellows, there is nothing i enjoy more than a good dump. There is something theraputic about emptying ones bowels while catching up on events in the current issue of FHM or the Sun. I would say that i am regular and have no complaints in this department in relation to consistancy of turd. This is until i go around my mates house.

For some reason, the minute i set foot in his gaff i have this uncontrollable urge to vacate my bowels at speed, with alarming results. I quote three occassions:

1. Stepped in hallway and excused myself to trot to the karzee. Just made it and on arrse touching the seat, an explosion occurred. The noise made was the equivalent of someone emptying a bag of gravel into a paddling pool. The stench was god awful.

2. Made it to the kitchen but then had to hot foot it upstairs as the tortoise was curious. Again, made it just in time and the sound was like a bowl of trifle being emptied onto a wooden floor or a packet of mince being chucked onto a hot car bonnet. Said poo was the consistancy of creamed fudge. As to the smell, quite frankly this appalled even myself.

3. Was in his gaff for three minutes when i excused myself. On the pan, i passed a stool of such titanic proportions that as it was leaving my body, i actually went "Aaaahhhhhhhhhhh" out loud. The splashback was the equivalent of what Guy Gibson would have experienced when dropping his bouncer on the Mohne dam. Oddly, the smell was of hickory smoked chicken and my thoughts as i flushed this demon away was that when that gets out, it will be a danger to shipping.

Do any other arrsers have this problem when they visit someones house or when they are in a location other than their own home? This is bugging me and my mate has stopped inviting me round.

 

for some bizarre reason I get it whenever I am in my in-laws (in Chile).

worst thing is that you can't put the bog roll down the bog in Chile... it has to go in a wee bin left by the kharzi...
gipping!

 

I'm the same. At home, stools are normal. At work, I sit there with something that looks like brown oil smearing between my arse cheeks. It just feels degrading.

 

So your mate gives you the shits? Try eating compo before you visit ...

 

i have a similar problem during some of the trips to france which i have been tricked into.

only a frenchman could think of installing a toilet which is a glorified hole in the floor. attempting to conduct bowel admin bears striking similarities to positions inflicted on potential SAS recruits during RTI.

i believe this is the sole reason french people are not binge drinkers. after having enjoyed the delights of the amber nectar i have enough trouble staying on a regular, british poo throne. attempting the same manoeuver on a french version, despite drunken attempts to brace yourself in a james bond style against the walls either side, would surely end in such manner that it would resemble the coveted grand-slam or dodgy german skat movies.

 

Picolax

 

I can honestly say, that after experiencing numerous shovel recces, singlies ablutions, and turdises, I would never, ever, curl one down without being in the comfort of my own home.
If you decide to splatter someone elses porecelain, they never have anything to read (Sick to death of reading the back of shampoo bottles, they all have the same ingredients)
Just nearly finished 'Going postal' by Terry Prattchet, Excellent reading material. Read it all sat on the throne.
The Clement Freuds are giving me a bit of gyp though.

Edited for mongy spelling of a mongy Berliner.

 

Wear a nappy;

http://www.trinity.edu/jdunn/images/YoungWorldLeaders/ghandi3.bmp

 

I'm a creature of habit really. Half an hour after I've got out of bed is when I give birth to an RMP, usually a bit greasy and maloderous enough to make the mem sahib use the downstairs cloak.
On ex/op very rarely went for a shovel recce (compo's your mate) but when I came back to the MQ in Germany I could produce snakes; feet in length. In fact, with the German 'inspection platforms' I used to have to slowly rotate my arrse to form a sort of coil pot just to get the monsters to stay in the bowl.
In Kenya came across lots of UK style thrones but they were always buried up to the rim so you had to squat over this enormous white chasm which was far more dangerous than any Frog affair.
I very rarely read on the bog, if just back from field squeeze blackheads / pimples on thighs. Otherwise bombs away and into the bathroom for ablution. I never go in pub toilets cos it's hard to poo when you've got one foot extended to keep the MDNs/Rodneys doing coke/Jarrods at bay and anyway you can guarantee that the guy before you either dumped on the seat or threw up all over it.
My biggest toilet hate is going in there and finding a Nigel, hate it the way they just look up at you with their brown pointy nose gesturing in your direction.
Biggest surprise was getting caught short while in Northern Norway with 1 Para. Had these Swedish cardboard disposaloo thingies. In the dark couldn't find any of them so went over the snow berm and had a comfortable squat in the snow. This gave me two major surprises, firstly fresh snow at -37 is about the best bum cleaner you'll ever find, magnificent. The second surprise was a scouse voice saying "Did you enjoy that then lar?" Fcuk those sentries are well cammed. Couple of days later Tom comes into med centre says morning sarge have you got some aspirin for a headache, aspirin issued he looks at me, winks and says, "Stuff of legend, the phantom shitter".

 

mine's to the right but I know exactly what you mean

 

I'm off back to Antofagasta in Decembre and am already dreading the humming bin of bog-roll... However, it is made up for the fact I haven't seen my misses for 4 months... Poor girl isn't going to know what hit her...

 

As long is it's not cack, you should be ok.

 

Why, will you be wearing a mask?

 

Yep! The tales of 'Bowel Administration' must be legion. I remember the first time I used a Kraut toilet after being posted to Germany in the 1960s. I did a real 'Captains Log', it was long and coiled up like a rope. Problem was, the Kraut bogs have a 'platform' where the Poo sits before being flushed, not quite like British bogs where the 'Logs' go straight into the water.

Well this massive 'Log' sort of piled up in coils until it was stuck to the old Gonads.... (I had had very saggy Gonads...) it was not very pleasant scraping poo off the old Bean-bags.....!!!

On another occasion when I had drunk a bottle of Prune Juice... (just for fun), the resulting explosion dispersed into the bog, under the seat and out all over the wall on either side of the stall. Oh, the shame of it. I had to spend extra time scraping it all off the wall with bog paper. Not exactly the thing to do if I was out visiting friends......

So the moral of the story is.... don't drink Prune Juice if going out to a party in a private house.....