Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by shortfuse, Dec 14, 2004.

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  1. what is it with the human body??

    i was awoken this morning by what i can only describe as a volcano erupting in my bowels , it felt like someone had jumped on my guts , and i folded up like a penknife.

    i managed to fly into the kharzi , and just about managed to plonk myself down and what i can only describe as hell on earth was unleashed.

    the initial rush was like someone pulling a string of christmas tree lights out of my ringpiece , you know , the spikey ones that are shaped like icicles , and whats worse is it felt like they'd left the plug on the end 8O

    this was followed by a rush of air that had been trapped , and even though i forced myself down hard on the seat i knew in frank spencer parlance that there was going to be "a bit of trouble" and i was right.

    after a few more lurches , farts , bubbles , squeaks , groans , and sighs i inspected the damage , it wasn't pretty.
    the kharzi was coated from the underside of the seat down , in clods of turd that my backblast had flung alles uber , but worse was to come.
    the cistern , and my lower back looked like i'd just ridden home on my mountain bike over some particularly "sh-itty" terrain , i may as well have sh-it the bed and rolled in it , for the fine misty debris had liberally coated the exposed underside i'd forced down hard to prevent "leakage" so my arrse cheeks and spam castanets were covered .... nice way to wake up.

    one quick shower , and mass degunging of the trumping pot later i was ready to remount my w-anking chariot , but the rest of the night was spent in a fitfull doze , scared of a repeat performance.

    whilst writing this i've just popped to the tea machine for a brew , and whilst trying to sneak one out in the workshop i've literally just popped a malteser into my undercrackers , which after another clean up have been designated a bio hazard and i've put them in a sealed box with the other hazardous waste on site.

    it's going to be a long , scared to fart , pantless day.
  2. that will teach you for farting in the workshop! ASM, sort this man!! :)
  3. You haven't, perchance, been on a diet of Guinness and pickled eggs? Works for me! 8O
  4. are the god of toilet narratives.

    I bow to you...although not too close....there is a funny smell coming from somewhere 'round here.... 8O
  5. Shortfuse - I guess this sort of thing happens to you a lot...?

  6. i've been here 7 hours now , and every time my guts lurch i have to take off out of the blocks like an olympic sprinter , only to get two little squirts of red hot bum gravy , and more marsh gas.

    god knows what it was i ate to bring this on but a full day of sitting on an arrse that looks like i'm a baboon coming into season is wearing on my nerves.

    i rang the bird to see if she was alright , she's normally a good indicator if there's anything going about , i think in a former life she could of been one of those canaries they took down coalmines .... but she's fine , so my next finger of suspiscion is the dodgy roll van that comes round our work, i bought a pie off him the other day that tasted like it had been on his van since the old king died.
    it was so full of gristle that i took it back and asked him who supplied his pies
    "they're peters pies mate"
    i then asked him if peter wanted his b*llocks back and gave him the two big snotty lumps of gristle i'd just chomped on.

    only three hours to go , i popped a couple of loo rolls in the fridge at linchtime and they should be nicely chilled upon my return.
  7. Ahhhh.... Having to go to the bog to fart. Don't you just hate that? :D :D
  8. Superb threade shortfuse! :D

    I've lost more than a few sets of shreddies to this syndrome. Is it wrong of me to be proud of the fact that the time I was afflicted with this malody I forced the wife and kids out of the house? My swamp gas and tuba blasts were so bad she took the kids and spent the night at her mothers! :lol:
  9. I think i can safely say that the thought of the turtles head popping out to say hello unexpected has not happend to myself, althugh on occasions it has been a verry close run thing.

    But short fuse you have my sympathy, and you are now offically (as far as i am concerned ) the mecca of describing in detail the night after a vindaloo, where what you eat looks like what comes out 12 hours later!

    Just one hint though i tink from the sounds on it, you should really put the big rolls in the freezer rather than the fridge.
  10. Just be glad you don't have a toilet like this:


    We've got one like this upstairs, and a proper one downstairs... And in true League of Gentlemen style, we do not pass solids into the upstairs lavatory. Whether pebbledashing counts as solids or not, it a moot point however... :?
  11. Mrs chickenpunk has instituted a policy, officially known as 'Apartshite', banning me from crapping in our en suite bog in the mornings because she can't brush her teeth whilst wearing an S10. The built in bathroom fume extractor fan is no match for the noxious green fog produced by chickenpunk's 'morning constitutional'. Instead I am relegated to a bog three floors below which can be cold and lonely on a winter's morning... :(
  12. PMSL! :D

    Shortfuse, I sympathize, as I've had this happen to me, but NEVER as bad as you've got it!

    :idea: you could take some of that stuff to court as evidence to sue that bloody vendor who got you sick! :lol: :lol: :twisted:
  13. I am occasionally afflicted by pebbledashing syndrome, though curiously after one good session I rarely have to be concerned about lavatorial availability for the rest of the day. In general it occurs at weekends, and I have noted that having the mess fry-up for breakfast seems to stimulate the previous night's curry into a rapid advance to contact with the lavatory bowl - I can almost set my watch by it. Finish breakfast, and just time for a coffee and to read the Motoring section of the Saturday edition of the Nazigraph in the ante-room before the first cramps start.

    The ability of the sphincter to stretch to accommodate compacted post-exercise logs, whilst also being able to deliver aerosolized weapons-grade fizzy gravy is one of the true miracles of the human body.
  14. thanks for your support , nice to know i'm not alone.

    i seem to be on the mend today , as an experiment last night i ate a whole box of mini flapjacks to see wether i'd produce a "tracker bar" or just chocolate ready brek (including the ready brek glow around my ringpiece)
    and i'm pleased to say i appear to be back on solids.

    stoatman , i sympathise with your toilet situation , those "kraut krappers" are just not right , i dont feel comfortable without that reassuring "plop"
    and if i'd been faced with one of those yesterday , i fear the overspray in my bathroom would of been horrific.

    now i'm ready to face the chrstmas diet of dates , dry roasted peanuts , stuffing , chocolates and half a hundredweight of sprouts.
    do immodium do gift sets???