Every cloud really does have a silver lining

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by Mighty_doh_nut, Mar 27, 2005.

Welcome to the Army Rumour Service, ARRSE

The UK's largest and busiest UNofficial military website.

The heart of the site is the forum area, including:

  1. Since Thursday I have been struck down with Gasteronenteritis and nothing but a fluid looking like Flat cola has come out of my hoop.

    Sadly this happens every three to five minutes and since then have been through six large Andrex bog rolls... My starfish is over wiped and sore yet still it erupts.

    Not content with restricting my movements and placing me under close arrest to within the confines of '10 paces from the trumping pot' my body decided that it would be funny to make me puke my ring up.... when I am sat forcing gravy out the other end.

    My little one won't come near me, she thinks Daddy has been murdering people in the bathroom... I have been in absolute agony and pain.... I usually enjoy a good Thora Herd but jesus I am sick of the place, sick of the stomach churns and even the trumps that blow mud all over the back of the pan aren't amusing.

    Due to me being in rag order the Frau has demanded I wear shreddies in bed for the duration of my illness... this is akin to being in colditz as I can't completely relax unless bollocky.

    Amidst the misery of my gut infection this morning caused me to pat myself on the back.

    I had managed to go through the night without much incident and a familiar, more welcome ache was thrust upon me... I thought I was cured, a fart was brewing...... I looked over to see if the frau was awake... to find the little one between us fast asleep..... I lifted the duvet and stuck my hoop out the side of the bed.... lowered my undercrackers and prepared for the symbol of a fixed botty (a dry fart)

    It was by far the best I have ever done..... as soon as it started I started to laugh and began to lose concentration, causing a lull in the tempo....

    Wary of a muddy follow through a carefully let out little by little, but because the sphincter was pretty tight closed the noise was nothing short of awesome, like a V rocket on full throttle.

    The Mrs sat up in bed and looked at me with utter hatred and disgust on her face and the little one began to cry.

    My arse was still in full rapture and must have continued for a good eight / 9 seconds.

    The frau launched into me with a tirade of abuse all based around me being a vile ignorant uncaring pig... but mid sentence her faced curled up and contorted as if hit by mustard gas...... by fcuk you've never smelt anything like it..... she was actually gagging

    It closed one of my eyes and caused me to look over my shoulder to make sure there was no shit on the floor............ What I saw was the face of my ever loyal Golden Retriever, lookign up at me as if to say 'Good Arse sir, but did you really have to do that on me'

    The frau gathered up our infant and made for the door, sadly she is nearest the window and had to walk through the cloud to the door....... All I could do was smile and tell her to take deep breaths.

    I pulled my pants up, still chuckling and as proud as a peacock and made my way to the bathroom, cockily raising a leg to squeeze out another colonic chorus......... I pushed it too far and fired a fine jet of Fizzy gravy into my Shreddies.... thanfully Sunray was elsewhere and doesn't know, I flushed the badly marked undies down the pot.......... went down stairs to be told to Stick my fcuking eater egg right up my smelly arse :D :D
  2. Awesome story!

    The moment when D and V ends - and your first solid shit. Utter bliss!
  3. Ive been PMed and asked why the story title is about a silver lining...

    1. Even though ill, I managed to break every fart record I have ever set.

    2. I made the Mrs hate me without uttering a word

    3. If involved in a big clever contest i bet I am the most recent to have followed through

    Hope that clarifies :D
  4. I feel deprived, as I haven't followed through since I was a toddler. How can I re-master this lost art?
    (Apart from by by catching gastro, which is cheating...)
  5. I remember when I was serving in Brunei and me and some of the lads from the Sgts Mess took a few racks of lager to a James Bond theme party. After we got back there were a few cans left in the boot of the car, which were subjected to the rays of the sun for many hours. When I woke up with a mouth like Ghandi's wife's minge I collected the lager and had a(tepid but nice) hair of the dog. A few hours later, dressed in my best Naffi dressing gown, I went for a waz in the mess toilets. It was a fine Sunday and the Pads and their sprogs were in for their cheap and washing up free sunday lunch. I pointed Percy at the porcelain and deposited about 2 litres of hot dark pee pee in the pot. After the mandatory 3 shakes I felt a small urge to let a small pocket of flatulence escape. I released my duck like sphincter just a little and to my horror a large deposit of burning hot brown goo popped out instead of the expected foul smelling but non sticky fart-gas. Fcuk I thought! What to do, my room was a good 50 paces away and I didn't think the cleaner would appreciate a trail of man poo on the corridor carpet. I threw the now ruined Naffi special in the shower and showered with it. It looked like I was in a mud slide and the heat of the shower amplified the smell of human toxic waste so much that I puked on my poor dressing gown. Once my legs were poo free I made a dash butt naked to my room, passing a group of sprogs who were exploring the mess corridors as usual. The look of shock on their cherub like faces will hunt me forever. Later at singlies evening meal, we had a dressing gown identity parade. 'No never seen that one before' says I. 'Must be one of those Marines from the Jungle Warfare Course, the dirty Bas*ards’
  6. Why would you want to Berni?! 8O
  7. I think to become a regular follower througher you have to be completely fearless when it comes to the dangers of letting one go. 'He who Dares'

    Usually there is a fine line between letting go a world class air bisuit and the drawing of butt mud.

    It saddens me to admit that I do follow through a little more than I should... but I'd like to think myself a pioneer in the field of Farting

    'Following through' a sport of kings is a good learning post then a few pot noodles, some cheesey thins and a box of liquorice allsorts shoudl set you on your way.

    Draw no boundaries, strive for anal excellence......... the worst that can happen is a catastrophic blowback...... or a Mother in law which you hate never talking to you again for Dropping a pellet down your shorts onto her new carpet :D

  8. I have tried strong coffee, Guinness and and a ruby Murray, but I guess I am just too inhibited.... :cry: Will I never achieve this state of sphinctal Nirvana?
  9. You need a quick tour of Basrah!!!! That normally helps! :roll:
  10. You must go back to basics, learn to fart again.... When you know its going to be a loud one, try and change it to two short ones, a cheeky rasp and a couple of little tinkers to end with...

    Soon you will be able to Boff with the trumplords.

    Once you have mastered the parameters of the basic fart thats when the risk and danger elements come in, when you dive into the unknown and tamper with your own exaust gas.

    One of my memorable follow throughs was as a Lance jack in my own room in Minden.

    I had been out for a night on the lash, come home, knocked one out and couldn't sleep.

    I had chronic wind and set about improving and striving for excellence.

    I got the old mirror, the 10 inch square one from inside your locker and hovered above it while I guffed...... I'd never seen my starfish pucker and it soon had me giggling like a mong......

    I was almost all farted out but still wanted more.. I wasn't yet bored.

    I pulled in all my inner strength in trying to squeeze out any gas still contained within me.... disaster struck...... the bow door opened and a malteser flew out at Mach two and landed in the middle of the mirror.

    Not knowing whether to laugh or cry... I had to do something, it stank.

    Balancing my trophy aloft on its shiney platter I made my way out of the block and towards the Stadt bin outside.....
    All the time wondering how I would explain being bollocky and and balancing a turd on a mirror to the Orderly officer or Gaurd Commander...
  11. Next time you see your retriever twitching and moaning in it's sleep, it will not be because it is dreaming about chasing rabbits, instead it's nightmares will be haunted by a malodorous ogre, with fumes of Bhopal-like noxiousness jetting out of every orifice..
  12. Yep, but the thick mut still sleeps on the floor next to my side of the bed, and Ive been emptying my arse on him since he was a pup..... eight years ago :D
  13. Today the trout still isn't talking to me, telling me Ive taken it too far, and the little boy lost routine has run its course, apparently its time I grew up and started to act like a responsible business man, father and homeowner etc...

    My response was too gulp down air and say 'bollocks!' in a Belch before cocking my leg and squeezing out a toot that would make a Leopard run for cover.

    In a sulk I grabbed the little on and we have spent the day on the park like a part time dad and his kid.

    I want to be a nipper again, they've got it easy..... she hit another kid and no police tipped up, she got ice cream everywhere and noone looked at her tutting and shaking thier heads like they do when i spill Spag bol down my front. She shat herself in public and noone demand she be sectioned.... when I changed her nappy she upped and legged it and pissed whilst bollocky 30 yrds down the park before I could catch her.....

    There is absolutley no chance of a reconcilliation tonight so am going out of my way to bug her.

  14. Oh f*ck me, this is one of the funniest threads ever. The Mrs. thinks I've been turned into a mong, I'm giggling so hard.

    Good drills MDN! :D
  15. Our (mine & other half's) social lives were flushed down the pan with the afterbirth of our offspring. Weekends now predictably consist of Ant & Decs Saturday Night Takeaway, a DVD, pizza, beer and an argument. :D

    A few weeks back I found myself in weekend ground hog day again, laid out on the sofa with the other half watching TV. Thinking of ways to stimulate my highly intellectual gray matter I spied the half empty Grolsch bottle he had just put down on his way to the kitchen. I seized the opportunity and grabbed the bottle, dropped my jeans slid it between bum cheeks and dropped my guts into it. :D

    Not wanting to waste my creation I stuck my thumb over the top until he came back into the room and in a none selfish, dutiful wife manner I handed him back his beer as he sat back down.

    It took all I had not to lag myself giggling as his lips closed round the end, then it hit him! Watching his face contort and recoil as he got two nostrils full of my guff was priceless and well worth the two hours I had to spend locked in the bathroom until he calmed down.