What's the etiquette here??

JohnnyFlash wrote: »

The new ones feature a ‘joystick’ which allows the pooper to control the velocity, temperature and angle of the water stream used to return the balloon knot to ISO standards.

Like a game of Space Invaders for your hole.

Hector Savage wrote: »

Scary world, as allready mentioned, nothing beats the aul heavty armitage shanks .

Beasts, could take a load from a 200KG 6ft2in Kerry farmer after drinking 17 pints of guinness and having a sunday carvery roast.


Not even the hint of a need to call a plumber

Calling a plumber to unblock a toilet?

Never had you down as a snowflake, Hector.

Deebles McBeebles wrote: »

An interesting thought, somewhat clarified in Nialler's link

Like the time I came into the changing rooms in the Golf Club to be confronted with a ‘wall eye and two whey coloured billiard balls hanging below it.

There was an auld lad,definitely over 65 bent over and working the wall mounted hair dryer around his cluster,and bilge pipe, not a bother on him.

Was very close to running the handle of a fat grip putter up his hole, the filthy kernt.

Following day I while on my own, I smashed the hair dryer with a rescue club, claimed I was taking a practice swing, paid for it to be replaced with a new unit to get the memory out of my mind.

:mad:

Hector Savage wrote: »

f*cking disgusting!
Drying his oul balloon knot with specks of dried drittle falling into it - do some people have no shame ..

More than disgusting,Hector, fcuker was running the device up close to his hoop and the frikken nutpurse was red as a turkeys wattles from the hot air.

How one could put that unit close to ones head after seeing that was for me a point of no return.

Hence my response as outlined earlier.

Brendan Bendar wrote: »

Like the time I came into the changing rooms in the Golf Club to be confronted with a ‘wall eye and two whey coloured billiard balls hanging below it.

There was an auld lad,definitely over 65 bent over and working the wall mounted hair dryer around his cluster,and bilge pipe, not a bother on him.

Was very close to running the handle of a fat grip putter up his hole, the filthy kernt.

Following day I while on my own, I smashed the hair dryer with a rescue club, claimed I was taking a practice swing, paid for it to be replaced with a new unit to get the memory out of my mind.

:mad:

It has to be said, that's the sort of pervert you'll find in a golf club.

You all have no idea how much better this thread has made me feel. As a long time sufferer of IBS, I’m so glad I’m not alone in these ‘sticky’ situations when caught short! I was pointed in the direction of this thread by a fellow poster, after telling them about a recent week-long sh**fest in Las Vegas, which I may post in time.

One of my more memorable encounters is as follows. A while back, I was invited by a friend to an event in Dartmouth Square. The event was for climate change/how to change the world etc. My friend being vegetarian, wanted to go as there would be healthy food stalls and all that jazz. Myself being a carnivore, I couldn’t particularly be a*$ed, but I was hungry so went along for a look. I started the afternoon with an iced coffee, followed by a leisurely stroll and yoga in the park. (Don't judge, I just did the yoga as it was free and wanted to give it a try). About twenty minutes afterwards, we were standing in the queue for food, when out of nowhere, in the depths of my intestines, it felt like a tornado weaving a path of destruction, bearing down rapidly towards the only exit. Within 30 seconds, the heat and pressure at my h*le was like nothing I have ever felt before. Not even a few warning farts, pain or any sort of rumble as what usually happens. If I had have tried to fart, it would have been a catastrophe. Panic set in and sweat rolled down my back. I darted out of the queue, cheeks clenched like a vice, as I lolloped towards the portaloos at the other side of the park. Typically, I expected to see a significant queue of people waiting to drop their waste, however, to my glorious surprise, the cubicles were ALL empty. I flung open the first door, no a**ewipe to be seen. Panic and an*l pressure increasing rapidly, went into the next one, the dam starting to leak around the edges at this stage. There must have been someone looking out for me that day, as there were four packets of domestic toilet roll, not even the vile stuff that cuts your an*s, beside a pristine latrine.

Ripped down my jeans and undergarments, and all fire and fury broke loose. I have read posts on this about pebbledashing etc – this batch of midden was in such liquid form it wasn’t even able to stick to the bowl. It squirted everywhere – downwards into the bowl, sideways across my cheeks, backwards onto the seat. The force was incredible and the smell was truly appalling, almost chemical-like. My h*le was pulsing this stuff out in spurts. I firstly sat in shock, afraid to move, then curiosity got the better of me to see what ungodly creation had come out of me. I stood up gingerly, turned around, and saw a pile of what looked like scum on top of a swamp, greenish in colour. I felt another rumble in the bowel depths, sat down, and unleashed further torrents of putrid matter. It was at this point when I noticed that the rancid liquid had dripped onto my new shoe. It must have dropped off a cheek when standing up for the inspection.

During clean up , one roll of paper was used trying to remove the mess and took a good five flushes to rid the toilet of that hellish substance. My ho*le felt as if a pitchfork was after being inserted. I gingerly emerged from the portaloo twenty minutes later, feeling a mixture of shame, dirty and shock. Waddled back to my friend, still queuing, hoping I wasn't stinking of sh1t.

Lesson learned that day – avoid hipster things such as iced coffee made with condensed milk, climate change events and yoga!!

Always shit on the company dollar. That's pretty much all I got to say about that.

Jesus, this thread is still going! What a pile of sh*t.....

Had a few pints and a curry last night, I can feel the storm coming.

Nevin Parsnipp wrote: »

Just blew out a large bowl of "Semi-Skimmed"....after a generous ingestion of porter previous evening.....got an unmistakable waft from the pot that reminded me that I had gulled down a large bag of Bombay Mix as well.....

Texture?

I recently polished off a few bottles of Tyskie that had been hanging around the back of the fridge along with a large bag of dark chocolate covered cashews.

Produced about a pint of what resembled Lyle's treacle over the course of a long weekend and probably burned about 2000 calories doing so.

And the gates have opened....
Surprisingly, a few decent solids, very little wiping necessary, easy peasy.
I was expecting a monsoon of pastey muck to exit from the back doors.