What's the etiquette here??

Stevieluvsye

Sounds something similar that happened to me in 2012 G. So the story starts with a session down the local on a normal saturday afternoon. Mrs rings, "Pick up an Indian on your way home" sweet says i, have a hankering for something spicy. She wants her regular Chicken Jalfrezi, i'm contemplating chicken chilli massala but thinking about a vindaloo. So anyway, get to said indian and start chatting with "Rohit" about cricket and how much i'd love to bang an indian bird, so anyway i order herself's food and say to Rohit, fcuk it, give me a Phal and he laughs nervously, thinking i'm joking. Feeling all jonny big ballix after my 8 pints i said go on just get me a phal. So he starts telling me how spicy it is. Ye Ye Ye i'm thinking.

Ring ahead "get the plates out, be there in 10" So she dishes out both and she dips her fork in for a sneaky taste of mine......Then BBOM, she starts coughing, going red, sweating. I'm laughing away heartily thinking, meh this one can't hold her chillies. Now in my drunken haze i forget that she can indeed hold her chillies and far better than me.

So i sit down, tear of some nan and do a curry "samdo" first bite, yum but all i'm tasting is the beautfiful garlic and coriander naan, then THEN i get my first experience. I swallow the rest of the "sambo" the heat is instant, hiccups, sweat, tears coming from every hole orifice on my head. I'm nearly sure my water has turned to steam in my mouth, milk is doing nothing. What have i done i'm thinking to myself. Anyway after a few minutes i gain some composure and the heat has just gone down to vindaloo levels. I decide, i'm going ack in. Launch in another mouthful, even worse, start gagging, now getting sick, i feel dizzy, can't speak, lips look like they have been injected with botox. I retire to sitting room and lie down. I come around about 20 minutes later and herself bleats out "your gonna have a bad stomach later"

Well fcuk me sideways, Strictly hadn't even finished when my stomach started having a convo with me. Trouble brewing. Usually i quite enjoy a bout diahorrea but this feels different.

Not much time passes and tell the mrs to come check on me if i'm not down in 20 minutes. Straight on the throne, red hot machine gun fire, my arse is on fire, i'm letting out yelps, no sign off stopping, everytime i wipe and stand up my stomach tells to sit the fcuk back down again.

This went on all night and for the majority of the sunday. We still "laugh" about it today when we are perusing the menu. So the moral of this long winded story is if you have any kind of blockage order a PHAL

PS
I didn't realise at the time it was the spiciest curry in the world

Hector Savage

Sharp MZ700 wrote: »

Only truly back up on the horse today, I must admit that Preparation H is some stuff. Turbo Torpedo. Feel I could fill a swimming pool if I wanted to.
Drawing blood and gunk there with every wipe over the weekend, even resorted to the bag of frozen peas in a towel at one stage.
I marked it with a Sharpie before I put it back into the freezer too, don't want to be handling that myself again. She shouldn't notice, it's very discreet. It's niggling me though, wish I was made of sterner stuff.

What ???

partyguinness

Stevieluvsye wrote: »

Sounds something similar that happened to me in 2012 G. So the story starts with a session down the local on a normal saturday afternoon. Mrs rings, "Pick up an Indian on your way home" sweet says i, have a hankering for something spicy. She wants her regular Chicken Jalfrezi, i'm contemplating chicken chilli massala but thinking about a vindaloo. So anyway, get to said indian and start chatting with "Rohit" about cricket and how much i'd love to bang an indian bird, so anyway i order herself's food and say to Rohit, fcuk it, give me a Phal and he laughs nervously, thinking i'm joking. Feeling all jonny big ballix after my 8 pints i said go on just get me a phal. So he starts telling me how spicy it is. Ye Ye Ye i'm thinking.

Ring ahead "get the plates out, be there in 10" So she dishes out both and she dips her fork in for a sneaky taste of mine......Then BBOM, she starts coughing, going red, sweating. I'm laughing away heartily thinking, meh this one can't hold her chillies. Now in my drunken haze i forget that she can indeed hold her chillies and far better than me.

So i sit down, tear of some nan and do a curry "samdo" first bite, yum but all i'm tasting is the beautfiful garlic and coriander naan, then THEN i get my first experience. I swallow the rest of the "sambo" the heat is instant, hiccups, sweat, tears coming from every hole orifice on my head. I'm nearly sure my water has turned to steam in my mouth, milk is doing nothing. What have i done i'm thinking to myself. Anyway after a few minutes i gain some composure and the heat has just gone down to vindaloo levels. I decide, i'm going ack in. Launch in another mouthful, even worse, start gagging, now getting sick, i feel dizzy, can't speak, lips look like they have been injected with botox. I retire to sitting room and lie down. I come around about 20 minutes later and herself bleats out "your gonna have a bad stomach later"

Well fcuk me sideways, Strictly hadn't even finished when my stomach started having a convo with me. Trouble brewing. Usually i quite enjoy a bout diahorrea but this feels different.

Not much time passes and tell the mrs to come check on me if i'm not down in 20 minutes. Straight on the throne, red hot machine gun fire, my arse is on fire, i'm letting out yelps, no sign off stopping, everytime i wipe and stand up my stomach tells to sit the fcuk back down again.

This went on all night and for the majority of the sunday. We still "laugh" about it today when we are perusing the menu. So the moral of this long winded story is if you have any kind of blockage order a PHAL

PS
I didn't realise at the time it was the spiciest curry in the world

Similar situation with Vindaloo in England. But I waited for a night when the missus was out socialising. I needed to be on my own and sober. Trashed my way across the kitchen from counter top to counter top like a wounded deer. Tears, whimpering, cursing, wincing, cries of anguish, the works. It was a bad place.

It's all a bit of a haze and only intensive therapy will allow me to relive that experience.

The next morning I had a 6am flight back to Ireland. As soon as that seat belt light went off and I was straight down the back. I was stinking the plane out of it and pebble dashing the toilet at the back on old Aer Lingus- Stobart gig. Went at least 4 times with sweat pouring out of me.

Got to love a man that enjoys a bout of diarrhea...:pac:

Nevin Parsnipp

A bout of "The Trotts" in your own casa can be quite pleasurable...misting out chowder consistency shyte every now and again can only be good for the pipes.

A bout in a Aer Lingus / Stobart egg beater bouncing around at 20000 feet is an entirely different matter...I feel your pain Bro.....

JohnnyFlash

Nevin Parsnipp wrote: »

A bout of "The Trotts" in your own casa can be quite pleasurable...misting out chowder consistency shyte every now and again can only be good for the pipes.

A bout in a Aer Lingus / Stobart egg beater bouncing around at 20000 feet is an entirely different matter...I feel your pain Bro.....

Real fent of piss and gusset grease baked into comfort stretch polyester chinos around here all of a sudden.

Nevin Parsnipp

JohnnyFlash wrote: »

Real fent of piss and gusset grease baked into comfort stretch polyester chinos around here all of a sudden.

Got a bit of a bang mesell John I must admit....mebby it's time you got out the "good facecloth" and gave the star a good deep clean. ?

Hmmmm ?

Brendan Bendar

Nevin Parsnipp wrote: »

Got a bit of a bang mesell John I must admit....mebby it's time you got out the "good facecloth" and gave the star a good deep clean. ?

Hmmmm ?

I’d reccomend the ‘hard towel’ mesell, Nev. whips off the dried in shards and arse raisins in one good ‘swipe’.

Lad I know used to heat the area with one of those hand held steamers, but that only melted the ‘matter’ and ruined the towel…

Much better to abrade to muzzle with vigour in what is referred to ‘desert conditions’ hot and dry.

May be a bit of ‘ tail scrape ‘ damage after but a handful of Caldescene unction clears that up in jig time.

KWAG2019

The advanced technical discussions here with use of technical vocabulary elevate the thread above a bog standard approach.

Brendan Bendar

KWAG2019 wrote: »

The advanced technical discussions here with use of technical vocabulary elevate the thread above a big standard approach.

Serious topics demand serious language and accurate technical descriptors, K.

You are indeed correct.

The density quotient of the clag of course is also important, like, loose hanging ‘units’ and detritus could be shifted much more easily than those more ‘bedded in’ and in a ‘tighter footprint’ to ‘ground zero.


You seem to know your terminology K..... well done

Hotblack Desiato

Brendan Bendar wrote: »

Lad I know used to heat the area with one of those hand held steamers, but that only melted the ‘matter’ and ruined the towel…

Jaysus. Wonder does Gwynneth Paltrow steam her arse as well as her fanny...


Anyway. Had another "shytemare" last night. I was in an alleged UDA commander's gaff (very long story, don't ask cause I don't remember) and all was cordial until I needed the jacks. Went in, dropped the unremarkable load and went to wash the hands. There was one of those basins on a shelf. Except someone had sat on it for an "emergency landing" like in one of those bad chick flick "comedies". Everything in the vicinity was covered in splatters and smears of scutter, including taps and soap dispenser (liquid, dontchaknow) so it was a question of dirtying the hands to clean them, if you know what I mean, eventually got cleaned off in a reasonable fashion, made my excuses and left!

A most disturbing feeling when I awoke.

Brendan Bendar

Hotblack Desiato wrote: »

Jaysus. Wonder does Gwynneth Paltrow steam her arse as well as her fanny...


Anyway. Had another "shytemare" last night. I was in an alleged UDA commander's gaff (very long story, don't ask cause I don't remember) and all was cordial until I needed the jacks. Went in, dropped the unremarkable load and went to wash the hands. There was one of those basins on a shelf. Except someone had sat on it for an "emergency landing" like in one of those bad chick flick "comedies". Everything in the vicinity was covered in splatters and smears of scutter, including taps and soap dispenser (liquid, dontchaknow) so it was a question of dirtying the hands to clean them, if you know what I mean, eventually got cleaned off in a reasonable fashion, made my excuses and left!

A most disturbing feeling when I awoke.

Border area lad, I would suspect?

Hotblack Desiato

No. Which just makes it weirder.

Brendan Bendar

Hotblack Desiato wrote: »

No. Which just makes it weirder.

It certainly does, those lads in that area do have a ‘smearing’ advantage, one could be forgiven for surmising.

JohnnyFlash

Brendan Bendar wrote: »

It certainly does, those lads in that area do have a ‘smearing’ advantage, one could be forgiven for surmising.

What do you mean, Brendan? One normally associates people from Norn Ireland and the border counties with inbreeding, low levels of educational attainment, dour football, fried bread, smuggling, poor hygiene, a love of country and western music, bootcut wrangler jeans, terrible teeth, red faces, following rallies, and having no tax and insurance on the car. Not sure what the smearing thing is though?

armaghlad

JohnnyFlash wrote: »

What do you mean, Brendan? One normally associates people from Norn Ireland and the border counties with inbreeding, low levels of educational attainment, dour football, fried bread, smuggling, poor hygiene, a love of country and western music, bootcut wrangler jeans, terrible teeth, red faces, following rallies, and having no tax and insurance on the car. Not sure what the smearing thing is though?

Gentlemen, please. Don’t have me remind you Ross O’carroll Kelly-talking, blue shirt-loving, Aldi-shopping, Heineken-drinking fannies of your sneaking regards for the royals, pretending to love rugby, love of wearing boat shoes and terrible pretend American accents

EmmetSpiceland

armaghlad wrote: »

Gentlemen, please. Don’t have me remind you Ross O’carroll Kelly-talking, blue shirt-loving, Aldi-shopping, Heineken-drinking fannies of your sneaking regards for the royals, pretending to love rugby, love of wearing boat shoes and terrible pretend American accents

If there’s no vitamin H I’ll take a pint of Probs.

sligojoek

"Stick o' Heinomite"

padd b1975

JohnnyFlash wrote: »

What do you mean, Brendan? One normally associates people from Norn Ireland and the border counties with inbreeding, low levels of educational attainment, dour football, fried bread, smuggling, poor hygiene, a love of country and western music, bootcut wrangler jeans, terrible teeth, red faces, following rallies, and having no tax and insurance on the car. Not sure what the smearing thing is though?

H Block decor I presume.

It's amazing what antics those rapscallions got up to when feeling a bit peckish.

Brendan Bendar

padd b1975 wrote: »

H Block decor I presume.

It's amazing what antics those rapscallions got up to when feeling a bit peckish.

Of course.....knew a solid well informed contributor would figure that out in a ....what..... nanosecond!!

Brendan Bendar

armaghlad wrote: »

Gentlemen, please. Don’t have me remind you Ross O’carroll Kelly-talking, blue shirt-loving, Aldi-shopping, Heineken-drinking fannies of your sneaking regards for the royals, pretending to love rugby, love of wearing boat shoes and terrible pretend American accents

Hmmm... seems you have a a good few gouts of sour bile to drop,my friend.

However I won’t derail the thread dealing with caustic churns who have been fairly ‘front and centre ‘ in the news recently.

Stick to matters of the Thunderbox, my friend, that’s where your expertise obviously resides.

armaghlad

Brendan Bendar wrote: »

Hmmm... seems you have a a good few gouts of sour bile to drop,my friend.

However I won’t derail the thread dealing with caustic churns who have been fairly ‘front and centre ‘ in the news recently.

Stick to matters of the Thunderbox, my friend, that’s where your expertise obviously resides.

Too accurate?

Brendan Bendar

armaghlad wrote: »

Too accurate?

Between the numbers, dude.

Just remember that...

EmmetSpiceland

Was caught short in town, Dublin, earlier. Had to avail of some public “conveniences”. It was not pretty.

I had hoped to make a “beeline” to the immaculate toilets in Brown Thomas but the rain started so I had to settle for the type that employs the use of those UV lights to, unsuccessfully, discourage junkies from using them.

I made sure to wipe down the seat and then carefully “line” the seat, itself, with additional paper. This only provided a small level of peace of mind as I could see, even then, moisture darkening the tissue.

Once I was down, full sit, I got a sudden dose of “shy colon”. This is a form of stage fright I would never normally experience. I’d been fairly close to letting “loose” on the way to the jacks but with the staccato grunting and the squalid surroundings the ring wouldn’t budge.

After a few mindful minutes and some, tentative, deep breaths I relaxed enough to pass some sludgy, foamy and very loose “brown joy”. The relief was great but after some crashing and banging sounds from a different trap the hole tightened and that was the end of proceedings.

I could tell there was still more inside but it wasn’t going to budge so I commenced with the cleaning. It’s very rarely an easy task when you’re outside of the home “comforts” and this was no different. Lots of papering and making no real ground. The texture of the stool wasn’t conducive to a “hairy hole”.

It got to the point where the bowl was filling up so much that I was concerned my ball bag would start to become buried in ”soiled” paper. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that. Can you imagine?

I was nervous about the flush as the bowl was pure paper but, to be fair, the power was there and it sunk the lot with ease. I then made my way to the sinks and could feel the eyes of the betracksuited “creature” burning into me but, from a glance in the mirror, I knew I could easily despatch him if needs be but he would have known this too so a bit of posturing was all he was dishing out.

Still not happy about not getting the full “discharge”. Wondering if there are some exercises I should be doing, considering how I was left “hanging” last week but both instances seem to have explanations that don’t point to any “intestinal” shortcomings or fault.

Been venting some bad gas at home. Have blamed the dog if anyone has said anything but hopefully I’ll dump the “backlog” during my, usually unwanted, late night toileting. Do not fancy bringing this into the bedroom.

Voodoomelon

EmmetSpiceland wrote: »

It got to the point where the bowl was filling up so much that I was concerned my ball bag would start to become buried in ”soiled” paper. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that. Can you imagine?

I see you are one of those maniacs who prefers to wipe their arse whilst sitting down. Another fine example of why one would always wipe whilst standing up, shirt/jumper clenched in one hand around the stomach area whilst the other hand attends to business with some firm, re-assuring wipes.

I can only surmise that any male in adulthood than continues to wipe his arse whilst seated on the pan still feels the burdensome pressure of his mother from his formative years to remain on the seat in fear of soiling the bathroom rug, or lacks the discipline of facing the mental consequences of accidentally spotting ones reflection in the aforementioned position in a nearby mirror whilst performing such a standing wipe.

Such a reflection can bring a man to deep levels of disgust if not properly reared. If ever I have such an unlucky glimpse of myself, I have the stomach to chuckle at myself and think "jesus, if anyone I knew could see me now...", safe in the thought that we've all been in the same boat at some stage of our lives. Apart from you seated wiping lunatics.

Brendan Bendar

Voodoomelon wrote: »

I see you are one of those maniacs who prefers to wipe their arse whilst sitting down. Another fine example of why one would always wipe whilst standing up, shirt/jumper clenched in one hand around the stomach area whilst the other hand attends to business with some firm, re-assuring wipes.

I can only surmise that any male in adulthood than continues to wipe his arse whilst seated on the pan still feels the burdensome pressure of his mother from his formative years to remain on the seat in fear of soiling the bathroom rug, or lacks the discipline of facing the mental consequences of accidentally spotting ones reflection in the aforementioned position in a nearby mirror whilst performing such a standing wipe.

Such a reflection can bring a man to deep levels of disgust if not properly reared. If ever I have such an unlucky glimpse of myself, I have the stomach to chuckle at myself and think "jesus, if anyone I knew could see me now...", safe in the thought that we've all been in the same boat at some stage of our lives. Apart from you seated wiping lunatics.

I knew a lad who used to spread the centre pages of the Connacht Tribune on the floor of the latrine before carrying out the muzzle clean.

Apparently there were complaints about shards of compacted midden walked into the ‘good rug’ and the landlady wasn’t happy.

Ended up like the trailing end of that Muzzie chaps beard who got taken out recently.

JohnnyFlash

Brendan Bendar wrote: »

I knew a lad who used to spread the centre pages of the Connacht Tribune on the floor of the latrine before carrying out the muzzle clean.

Apparently there were complaints about shards of compacted midden walked into the ‘good rug’ and the landlady wasn’t happy.

Ended up like the trailing end of that Muzzie chaps beard who got taken out recently.

Literally shîtting over the judgements of Judge Mary Fahy. Disgraceful.

You’re up late, Brendan. Sudden need to visit the en-suite privy in the spare bedroom to deposit some ‘night soil’?

EmmetSpiceland

Voodoomelon wrote: »

I see you are one of those maniacs who prefers to wipe their arse whilst sitting down. Another fine example of why one would always wipe whilst standing up, shirt/jumper clenched in one hand around the stomach area whilst the other hand attends to business with some firm, re-assuring wipes.

I can only surmise that any male in adulthood than continues to wipe his arse whilst seated on the pan still feels the burdensome pressure of his mother from his formative years to remain on the seat in fear of soiling the bathroom rug, or lacks the discipline of facing the mental consequences of accidentally spotting ones reflection in the aforementioned position in a nearby mirror whilst performing such a standing wipe.

Such a reflection can bring a man to deep levels of disgust if not properly reared. If ever I have such an unlucky glimpse of myself, I have the stomach to chuckle at myself and think "jesus, if anyone I knew could see me now...", safe in the thought that we've all been in the same boat at some stage of our lives. Apart from you seated wiping lunatics.

I make no apologies for my “technique” when it comes to wiping. My natural position on the subject is the sit and lean, with a little lift. It’s pretty much automated at this stage.

But, I should point out, I have experimented with other options. I found standing up yielded no more greater “clean” than my favoured sit and lean. What did surprise me was that by going the more “female” route of down and under that you really get the most “purchase” and really does thoroughly clear out the area.

But with high reward comes high risk and when you go that way you really are leaving yourself open to a case of “pissy hand”, “sac smear” or, at the very least, “stained barse”. No amount of clean is worth an experience like that.

I just don’t see the point in doing the “stand and wipe”. I might explain a lot of the groaning that goes on in the cubicles at work, lads bending there backs trying to get eye to eye with their ball bag while their little mickey drips into their slacks. And, tell me this, V, if you were in an en-suite or the downstairs jacks at home would you be throwing a leg up onto the sink to really get into the “spokes”?

As for the glimpse in the mirror, yes, that is something I could do without. Wasn’t it John McGahern who pointed out that a man truly looks pathetic wearing a shirt without trousers, particularly if he’s just wearing socks? I believe he called it “absurd”.

It’s just not a good look and if remaining seated allows me so avoided seeing myself in such a “vulnerable” state then that is what I shall do, even if it means suffering insults from lesser men, like your good self.

Good day, sir.

armaghlad

I’m not sure how a thorough clean up can be achieved whilst sitting. In fact I’d say many of those who choose to to remain seated have more skidmarks on their €3 guiney’s briefs than a Donegal crossroads.

Brendan Bendar

armaghlad wrote: »

I’m not sure how a thorough clean up can be achieved whilst sitting. In fact I’d say many of those who choose to to remain seated have more skidmarks on their €3 guiney’s briefs than a Donegal crossroads.

€3??

Is that for a six pack?

armaghlad

Brendan Bendar wrote: »

€3??

Is that for a six pack?

Brendan it’s merely an estimation. I simply wouldn’t know the pricing for such garments in said retailer.