Three Trap Etiquette

#1
My first day back at work presented an interesting dilemma. Because I attended a football match last night, I consumed a couple of dogburgers on the way home, as well as a few pints of Guinness. Just after lunchtime, that heady combination had worked it’s magic and I had to hotfoot it to the gents toot-sweet.

The crappers on our floor have a three trap layout. Traps one and three were being used, leaving me with only the central bunco-booth to go at. As soon as I sat down, I knew it was going to register quite highly on the Beaufort scale. I could feel that there were about 250 cubic feet of fart, waiting cheekily for the first chicken nugget to fall out, so that they could quickly announce their arrival.

What to do? It may surprise you, but I’m a bit coy about sh-itting loudly within earshot of strangers. Should I play the waiting game. The bloke on my left was making no noise at all and was therefore unpredictable. The bloke on the right was reading a paper, the bas-tard. I couldn’t wait as my brain was well aware of its surroundings and was already exhorting my ricker, via the central nervous system, to release the hounds. In the end, I just stuck my fingers in my ears and let rip. Like the old Confucian proverb asks, "If a bloke has a really loud sh-it, but puts his fingers in his ears, does it make any noise.”

On returning to my desk, I discussed the problem with some work colleagues, and was offered a couple of alternative solutions to employ in the future.

One lad suggested open-splay surgery. This involves pulling your cheeks so far apart, that your sphinny simply can’t generate any friction or sound. A good possible, but the splashback risks are massive.

Another, with a musical bent, has in the past opted for a muffler. Using a big wad of bog roll as an impromptu trumpeters cone, he was able to reduce the noise to a manageable level. I must admit, I quite like the sound of that one. Can you imagine sitting there reading your paper, thinking Louis Armstrong’s doing a secret gig next door?

I’d be interested to know of the methods used by other ARRSE users in surmounting this problem.
 
#2
No other solutions AFKAC, i subscribe to the open splay method.

However

Thanks for making me laugh so much, I think I laughed more in the last two minutes than i did for the whole of 2004
 
E

error_unknown

Guest
#3
AFKAC, how surprisingly gay-bar-loitery!

Say it now and say it loud, I'm taking a crap and I'm proud!
 
#4
I find that the key to negotiating any tricky social situation is confidence; you can pull anything off so long as you act confidently and in the knowledge that YOU are the man.

Thus: easiest way to deal with the 3-staller? Do it loud and proud. Moan with pleasure, loudly implore Odin to help you evacuate, bang the sides, scream like a tortured Macack. That's how I do it - not only does it add to the moment, but after a while people will see you doing the polio-calliper walk to the sh1tter and will avoid the place for at least half an hour. You will forever sh1t alone.
 
E

error_unknown

Guest
#5
Worth pointing out though, that in one of his books, Andy McNab claims to be able to take a dump without the crap touching the sides, or some such thing. Must be that SF training.
 
#6
chickenpunk said:
AFKAC, how surprisingly gay-bar-loitery!

Say it now and say it loud, I'm taking a crap and I'm proud!
Other than yourself,who would dare to comment?Let the Trumpet sound and the Bowel-Howl ring like a wild triumphant beast on the open steppe.If anyone mentions the noise,smell,cries of pain/success/relief/escaping gerbils,etc simply comment that "GENTLEMEN DO NOT NORMALLY DISCUSS SUCH MATTERS
 
#7
There's actuallya great deal of fun to be had in a 3-stall situation, especially if you are in the middle.

An old fave of mine is to take a couple of mars bars to the bog with you. Break them into small pieces and warm them in your hands so they get sticky. Declare loudly in your best Belfast accent that "Bobby Sands Lives!" and start throwing the bits over the walls beside you while singing "Go on Home British Soldiers, Go on Home, Have ye got no fcuking homes of your own?" Calamity will ensue and once done you can walk outside and look forlornly at the work experience girl working at the desk opposite while showing her (what she thinks) are your sh1t stained hands. Her face is a picture, especially when you start licking them clean. :wink:
 
#8
chickenpunk said:
AFKAC, how surprisingly gay-bar-loitery!

Say it now and say it loud, I'm taking a crap and I'm proud!
I don't see any connection between sh-itting and queggery, but if you feel that this thread is something you can thrap to mate, fill yer boots :lol:
 

Mutt

Old-Salt
#9
chickenpunk said:
Worth pointing out though, that in one of his books, Andy McNab claims to be able to take a dump without the crap touching the sides, or some such thing. Must be that SF training.
I remember this clearly from a misspent childhood. He was discussing how, when dealing with rat packs, he would throw away the tissue paper, as he could 'shit while squatting' and so didn't need it.

My only hope was that the next time he tried this he got the squits, and none of his mates would lend him any of theirs. Deep joy.

Will now retreat briskly into box, and try not to damage the comedy of this thread any further.
 
E

error_unknown

Guest
#10
AFKAC said:
chickenpunk said:
AFKAC, how surprisingly gay-bar-loitery!

Say it now and say it loud, I'm taking a crap and I'm proud!
I don't see any connection between sh-itting and queggery, but if you feel that this thread is something you can thrap to mate, fill yer boots :lol:
Thrapping... hmmmm... no. I'm just suggesting: as someone who in the dim and distant past was sensitive about pumping out top-level, in-your-face, turd in the multi-seater environment; that you need to take a grip of your fears and let RI-I-I-P.

That's all... you big girl's blouse.

cp
 
#11
the three stall enviroment is fraught with unseen pit falls however , working in an accident repair workshop , we've got one of the older guys you can set your watch by , every time he goes for a dump , i sneak into the next stall and wait for him to drop his overalls , then it's snip snip snip , and he's got another pair with one short sleeve and one long one , this has been going on for months and it's driving him nuts , to the point where he will do a "poo feint" and rip the door open again looking for , and i quote.
"the c-unt who keeps chopping me arms off"
this only works if you consistently chop the same one off , or you may inadvertently give him "short sleeve order" as opposed to "flid's delight"

as a footnote , the last time his overalls came back from the dhobi wallahs , they'd put a note in asking him if he wants the other sleeve "tailoring" :D
 
#13
chickenpunk said:
AFKAC said:
chickenpunk said:
AFKAC, how surprisingly gay-bar-loitery!

Say it now and say it loud, I'm taking a crap and I'm proud!
I don't see any connection between sh-itting and queggery, but if you feel that this thread is something you can thrap to mate, fill yer boots :lol:
Thrapping... hmmmm... no. I'm just suggesting: as someone who in the dim and distant past was sensitive about pumping out top-level, in-your-face, turd in the multi-seater environment; that you need to take a grip of your fears and let RI-I-I-P.

That's all... you big girl's blouse.


cp
Maybe your right, mate. I must admit, putting my fingers in my ears did cause me a small problem. When i'm taking a dump in normal mode, I can use my left hand to pick my nose whilst my right keeps my walnut-whip schlong, pointing down the range. Using both my hands to cover my lugs meant that I had no control over my knob. This meant that when I started pumping mud, I sent a big jet of lag onto my lovely new coat, which was hanging on the back of the door.
 
#14
AFKAC said:
My first day back at work presented an interesting dilemma. Because I attended a football match last night, I consumed a couple of dogburgers on the way home, as well as a few pints of Guinness. Just after lunchtime, that heady combination had worked it’s magic and I had to hotfoot it to the gents toot-sweet.

The crappers on our floor have a three trap layout. Traps one and three were being used, leaving me with only the central bunco-booth to go at. As soon as I sat down, I knew it was going to register quite highly on the Beaufort scale. I could feel that there were about 250 cubic feet of fart, waiting cheekily for the first chicken nugget to fall out, so that they could quickly announce their arrival.

What to do? It may surprise you, but I’m a bit coy about sh-itting loudly within earshot of strangers. Should I play the waiting game. The bloke on my left was making no noise at all and was therefore unpredictable. The bloke on the right was reading a paper, the bas-tard. I couldn’t wait as my brain was well aware of its surroundings and was already exhorting my ricker, via the central nervous system, to release the hounds. In the end, I just stuck my fingers in my ears and let rip. Like the old Confucian proverb asks, "If a bloke has a really loud sh-it, but puts his fingers in his ears, does it make any noise.”

On returning to my desk, I discussed the problem with some work colleagues, and was offered a couple of alternative solutions to employ in the future.

One lad suggested open-splay surgery. This involves pulling your cheeks so far apart, that your sphinny simply can’t generate any friction or sound. A good possible, but the splashback risks are massive.

Another, with a musical bent, has in the past opted for a muffler. Using a big wad of bog roll as an impromptu trumpeters cone, he was able to reduce the noise to a manageable level. I must admit, I quite like the sound of that one. Can you imagine sitting there reading your paper, thinking Louis Armstrong’s doing a secret gig next door?

I’d be interested to know of the methods used by other ARRSE users in surmounting this problem.
Brilliant.

Dear Sir,

There is no shame to be had. You rise from your desk whilst loosening your belt, purposely tuck your newspaper under your arm and march purposely to the traps whilst announcing "F*ck me, I've got Dogs Eggs in transit, here.."

You let rip as loud as nature will allow, punctuating each fart with "Get out and walk!" from within the trap, then once done, return to your desk informing all around that "I'd give it ten minutes before anyone goes in there. When that f*cker gets out into the North Sea, it's going to be a danger to shipping..."

Hope that helps....



Deirdre
 
#15
While we're on the subject of public sh1tting, I'm always amazed at the amount of toilet paper people seem to use. I'm not exactly doint the One Sheet Combat Sh@t but some people seem to roll off a fistfull per wipe. What's normal?
 
#17
I personally don't have a drama with listening to a loud 'crapcophony' going on in an adjacent stall or indeed myself letting go of an explosive mess in the near vicinity of other men. However what it does boil down to is toilet ettiquette in it's basic form. So, can the twat who stuck his nob through the glory hole next to my face in the local public pissers please make himself known ASAP!!! The shock was enough to make me empty my ballacks in an instant :D
 
#18
shortfuse said:
as a rule of thumb , if you come away with fingers like a 40 roll-ups a day man , then use a bit more.

hope this helps.
Having inspected some of my undercrackers after a hard day's manual work, you'd think my a*sehole had a 40 a day Old Holborn habit....
 
#19
I can't clarify exactly how much is needed, as I wipe too early more often than not.

I think i'm finished and start sorting out the bog roll. Quite often, the action of leaning forward to gain access to my Brenda Fricker sees me fire out an extra couple of savoury Celebrations. If this happens midwipe it can lead to the consumption of an entire roll, before i'm de-clanked.
 
#20
shortfuse said:
as a rule of thumb , if you come away with fingers like a 40 roll-ups a day man , then use a bit more.

hope this helps.
This phenomenon is known as "Shaking Hands with the French"
 

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