kelvin_273
LE

You don't get craftsmanship like that anymore.
Did you just assume gender?
You don't get craftsmanship like that anymore.
I'll take your word for it as the voice of experience.
That mental picture could only be improved by a heel-skid emanating from the print.
Many moons ago I went out with a girl who often left the bog looking like an explosion in a shit factory, she must have looked like an upside down brown fountain when using it, fuk all phantom about her let me tell youAs part of our unconscious bias, we always consider phantom sh*tters in the context of men & terrible male behaviour.
However, an unknown proportion of phantom sh*tters are in fact women. Presumably, this fact won't be known by their boyfriends or husbands initially. Most won't even consider the possibility because of their inherent male privilege.
Which begs the question, if you discover that your missus is a phantom sh*tter, a couple of years down the line, what would you do?
You could share some great stories or you could be recoiling in horror.
Staggered into the block early hours of the morning, sliding along the wall counting the doorways until I reached mine(No 4) , in the darkness fumbled the key into the lock, grabbed the door handle and yes you've guessed it, the phantom shitter had smeared crap all over the handle.
That particular phantom was prolific, wash basins, baths, showers, drying room, empty lockers we never did find out who it was, then one day it just stopped.
Many moons ago I went out with a girl who often left the bog looking like an explosion in a shit factory, she must have looked like an upside down brown fountain when using it, fuk all phantom about her let me tell you
I fucking hope not.Is there something you’d like to share with the group?
I call out the coast guard.Mine could never be a phantom; the explosion is normally followed by me going "**** me! Anyone hurt?"
I don't know if an entry from me counts, but I dropped a sloppy cowpat on the pavement when I got gutsache early one morning, sprinting from my car to squat in the pissing rain. It was a right mustard yellow colour, evil looking and steaming, decorated with an old bit of paper which was all I had to wipe with. After my day was done I returned to view my crime, and wept tears of pride as I saw a perfect footprint of a training shoe smack in the middle of it, with drip splashes in the direction of the runner's travel.
Tell me this is something not to be proud of!How low people can go and still be proud is a constant amazement for me. You (and your dearly beloved) are the reason why humanity is fucked.
His Mrs shat the bedI'm glad you've made the best of an extra hour in bed.
Don’t know about phantom but my missus, on occasions, can pass turds which have a striking resemblance to King Kong’s thumb.
One notable time was when she came walking through the dining room with an old spatula and a look of shame stating that her fecal matter wouldn’t flush and would need chopping up. She didn’t appreciate the round of applause from myself and ronin minor.
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Don’t know about phantom but my missus, on occasions, can pass turds which have a striking resemblance to King Kong’s thumb.
One notable time was when she came walking through the dining room with an old spatula and a look of shame stating that her fecal matter wouldn’t flush and would need chopping up. She didn’t appreciate the round of applause from myself and ronin minor.
Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk