Ever Soiled Yourself As An Adult?

Yes I'm OK if I stick to eating none spicy and bland food. If not god help me and anyone close by.
 
Reminiscent of a Paramedic I know.Saturday night. Picks up a regular drunk customer for A&E. This Paramedic and the A&E sister have a bit of to and fro/ banter going on.He knows the drunk is going to be left on a trolly in the corridor for a few hours,It being a Saturday night. So He sticks a snickers bar (Marathon to the elder lemons) down the back of the drunks kecks. When the A&E staff got around to Him, It was impressive by all accounts...
Drinking games, Dartmoor many, many years ago. APs as per usual thought they'd out gross everyone by drinking each others piss; Sgt Dave T had secreted a Marathon bar ( it was that long ago) down the back of his kecks; took centre stage, groaned, gurned and heaved; put his hand down the back of his trousers and ( as far as the APs knew) pulled out and proceeded to eat his own shit.

They gave up.
 
Apologises for the long story
The background story first....

As a young man I could eat anything (broken glass, horse shoes, anthrax infected dead dog) and be fine.
This all changed during a holiday to Tunisia in '91 though.
I was on the beach at the start of a weeks holiday with my wife-to-be, when I bought a whole water melon off a beach trader. My logic, as being whole there was no chance of anything nasty crawling and shitting over it so it would be ok or so I hoped...... I was wrong oh so very wrong.

About five hours later I was starting to feel mildly unwell so we made our way back to the hotel. After eight hours I was a wreck shivering, puking and shitting; this continued all the way through the holiday (5 more days) with me confined to the hotel room or rather the toilet, I didn't dare to even venture to the balcony to watch my better half swim in the pool !!

On returning home I was still bad so off to the local doctors I trot and was given more dioralyte, which did nothing other to have lemon scented shite drain out of my tattered hoop.
I now return back to Germany and I visit the medshed (2weeks after D-day (D being for diarrhoea)) and explain what was happening, as in, I was shitting blood and jelly, the jelly being the lining of my bowel. A sample of "poo" was taken and it turned out to be salmonella poisoning*.
Now its off to Rinteln for a check over and it turns out my insides are blistered / ulcerated. After a significant amount of tablets and several days on a drip I was a lot better. If this hadn't worked then I would have to loose several foot of innards.
But the damage was done and anything spicer than milk or outside a very boring list of food and it goes straight through me like an angry weasel in a barbed wire suit.

*The beach vendor to make a bigger profit as the melon was sold by weight had soaked it overnight in contaminated water (melons absorb water through the skin and the root).

Now to a story....
I was at FOB Farah and had eaten a very dodgy Friday night "Surf & Turf". How did I know it was dodgy.?.. well when I cut through the burnt outer into the 'steak' it leaked grey sludge!!! It later turned out the freezer on the truck had stopped working so everything had defrosted in the Afg summer then had been refrozen later on.

The next morning I was laying on top of my bed typing a report when there was a slight rumble followed by a sharp pain and a sudden urge to shit. I stopped typing and pulled my boots on for the 100+ yard walk to the Bathroom unit. I was able to cover 4-5 steps to the door (one foot inside the tent one out) before the first squirt blasted out. To save stinking out the tent I made an effort to continue to the bogs...... no chance, the gates of Hell had been opened and the Devil and his horde were on the move.
I went to the side of the tent and rested behind the pac AC unit as my ricker continued to spasm and I further filled my pants with goo. Every time I moved another jet would force it's way out. When I finally stopped shitting after 10+ minutes I banged on the side of the tent and asked for my towel to be thrown out to me. One of the guys brought me the towel .... I told him not to come near me but he did, he then started to gag and dribble at the sight and stench... there I was soaked in orange sludge. Some of the squirts had been forced upward and my shirt was stained and damp with arse gravy.
My boots and socks were contaminated with this vile liquid as it drained downward. I now removed my sodden trousers there was facial matter caked to my leg hairs. The final stage was to remove my underpants, I slowly pried them away and down my legs, there in the gusset was a whole single shrimp from last nights meal untouched from the devastation looking back at me.
After showering and scraping the mess from my body and clothes I collected my things and took them to the on camp laundry. I explained to the Indian not to touch anything and just throw the mesh bag straight into the machine...... he didn't listen/understand and later that day I was called into the camp managers office to explain why the laundry staff were so pissed off with me.

Apologises again for the long story
Did you recycle the shrimp?:eek:
 
Apologises for the long story
The background story first....

As a young man I could eat anything (broken glass, horse shoes, anthrax infected dead dog) and be fine.
This all changed during a holiday to Tunisia in '91 though.
I was on the beach at the start of a weeks holiday with my wife-to-be, when I bought a whole water melon off a beach trader. My logic, as being whole there was no chance of anything nasty crawling and shitting over it so it would be ok or so I hoped...... I was wrong oh so very wrong.

About five hours later I was starting to feel mildly unwell so we made our way back to the hotel. After eight hours I was a wreck shivering, puking and shitting; this continued all the way through the holiday (5 more days) with me confined to the hotel room or rather the toilet, I didn't dare to even venture to the balcony to watch my better half swim in the pool !!

On returning home I was still bad so off to the local doctors I trot and was given more dioralyte, which did nothing other to have lemon scented shite drain out of my tattered hoop.
I now return back to Germany and I visit the medshed (2weeks after D-day (D being for diarrhoea)) and explain what was happening, as in, I was shitting blood and jelly, the jelly being the lining of my bowel. A sample of "poo" was taken and it turned out to be salmonella poisoning*.
Now its off to Rinteln for a check over and it turns out my insides are blistered / ulcerated. After a significant amount of tablets and several days on a drip I was a lot better. If this hadn't worked then I would have to loose several foot of innards.
But the damage was done and anything spicer than milk or outside a very boring list of food and it goes straight through me like an angry weasel in a barbed wire suit.

*The beach vendor to make a bigger profit as the melon was sold by weight had soaked it overnight in contaminated water (melons absorb water through the skin and the root).

Now to a story....
I was at FOB Farah and had eaten a very dodgy Friday night "Surf & Turf". How did I know it was dodgy.?.. well when I cut through the burnt outer into the 'steak' it leaked grey sludge!!! It later turned out the freezer on the truck had stopped working so everything had defrosted in the Afg summer then had been refrozen later on.

The next morning I was laying on top of my bed typing a report when there was a slight rumble followed by a sharp pain and a sudden urge to shit. I stopped typing and pulled my boots on for the 100+ yard walk to the Bathroom unit. I was able to cover 4-5 steps to the door (one foot inside the tent one out) before the first squirt blasted out. To save stinking out the tent I made an effort to continue to the bogs...... no chance, the gates of Hell had been opened and the Devil and his horde were on the move.
I went to the side of the tent and rested behind the pac AC unit as my ricker continued to spasm and I further filled my pants with goo. Every time I moved another jet would force it's way out. When I finally stopped shitting after 10+ minutes I banged on the side of the tent and asked for my towel to be thrown out to me. One of the guys brought me the towel .... I told him not to come near me but he did, he then started to gag and dribble at the sight and stench... there I was soaked in orange sludge. Some of the squirts had been forced upward and my shirt was stained and damp with arse gravy.
My boots and socks were contaminated with this vile liquid as it drained downward. I now removed my sodden trousers there was facial matter caked to my leg hairs. The final stage was to remove my underpants, I slowly pried them away and down my legs, there in the gusset was a whole single shrimp from last nights meal untouched from the devastation looking back at me.
After showering and scraping the mess from my body and clothes I collected my things and took them to the on camp laundry. I explained to the Indian not to touch anything and just throw the mesh bag straight into the machine...... he didn't listen/understand and later that day I was called into the camp managers office to explain why the laundry staff were so pissed off with me.

Apologises again for the long story
My dear fellow. First, sincere regrets at the continuing alimentary issues you have. I can but imagine the problems that result.

Second, I continue to be amazed (no judgment implied) at the choices of locale for holidays, weddings, honeymoons and other voluntary excursions. From the many accounts of untoward consequences connected with such "exotic" travel, it reassures me of my own rather boring but predictable lifestyle after a rather full career of risk-taking and "adventure" in foreign climes and places.

Third and finally, your "blow by blow" (as it were) account of your melon-based odyssey rightfully belongs in the annals of scatalogical humor. I am in your debt. ;-)
 
Did you recycle the shrimp?:eek:
No but I did pick it out and offer it to the guy who brought me a towel..... strange thing is he said no and the next day moved out of the tent!! Some people are so strange. Americans eh what can you say.
 
.........Second, I continue to be amazed (no judgment implied) at the choices of locale for holidays, weddings, honeymoons and other voluntary excursions. From the many accounts of untoward consequences connected with such "exotic" travel, it reassures me of my own rather boring but predictable lifestyle after a rather full career of risk-taking and "adventure" in foreign climes and places.
We booked the holiday in September 1990 before Gulf War part 1.
When we arrived (1991) I knew I had made a mistake as there were pictures of Saddam all over the place!!
The hotel was great and the first night sat in the piano bar sipping a single malt was good too. Having the shits kind of ruined the holiday though, but I knew I I’d gone with the right woman as we’re still married (27years now).
 
We booked the holiday in September 1990 before Gulf War part 1.
When we arrived (1991) I knew I had made a mistake as there were pictures of Saddam all over the place!!
The hotel was great and the first night sat in the piano bar sipping a single malt was good too. Having the shits kind of ruined the holiday though, but I knew I I’d gone with the right woman as we’re still married (27years now).
Well done!
 
Very very close to a trouser catastrophe in work today. Guts grumbled and everything inside me attempted to kick down the portcullis and make a bit for freedom via the chocolate starfish.
I made the loo in the nick of time, and I honestly think that if I hadn't been in the disabled loo with bars to grab a hold of, I would have done a good impression of a short ,fat SAM trailing a tail of liquid brown propellant.
 

Hippohunter

Old-Salt
This was socially acceptable in Belize as long as brown legs were avoided. I have been to social functions where a concerned look may pass across the face, drink placed on bar and an 'excuse me for about 20 minutes' as you retire to rake out the monkey cage, shower and change. Back to bar, retrieve drink and resume social contact. Damn you Bellikin.
Billy Belikins bum squirt bitter
 

waltbloke

Clanker
I once had the misfortune for my attendance demanded in Ireland. Nothing to do to with keeping pikies in order, but her family. So yes, keeping pikies in order.
Of course I buzzing at the sheer joy of it all and proceed to block it out, starting at the silly o'clock arrival at the departure lounge.
Wow I wish I had drunk a lot more.
"whey, we'll have a great craic!" turned into "crikey, I hope the khazi's close" upon landing. The 737's descent may have stopped, but my innards hadn't.

I was therefore somewhat surprised to find myself with my luggage, her luggage and her, landside. My gizzards, inside.
Well, that was nice.
Just up until the nieces and brother in law starting all the hello bejabus bollocks.
Cork airport doesn't have the most expansive toilet, a modicum of pub style trap 1's, a rake of trap 2's. A debt of gratitude to fliers everywhere for avoiding the place is owed. Boxers were ruined and the Levi's were beyond economical repair in the short term. A prayer was answered when her goodself had the wits about her to phone me and enquire as to what the actual feck was keeping me.
"Bring the effing suitcase!" brought the happy sight of fresh undercrackers and a pair of jeans under the 4"gap under the door. Before I gave the Levi's a rinse in the sink, the boxers had been flung up to a tiny window facing the sun, in a rare Irish summer, sliding down to anonymity.

Two days later we took the return flight and there were signs outside- 'caution- slippery floor'.
 

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