What's the etiquette here??

Brendan Bendar · 10-09-2019 5:09pm

EmmetSpiceland wrote: »

The only reason I’d shave my hole was if I had a 24 year old girlfriend, for the “rimjobs”.

Just trim around the balls, barse and hole. Never, ever, wet shave the “ring piece”. Ever.

Correct Emmet, just back after a foreign trip on ‘ important company business’ .

Was a bit ‘bound’ but the chocks were removed on Friday and blew a fairly loose streel of scutther all o er the pewter.

Due to a dip in the arse paper bank decided to use the ring washer.

Got the ‘mixture ‘ wrong and nearly scalded the rivet off me.

So, don’t interfere with ground zero, if your girlfriend doesn’t agree tell her to forkhhe off, nowt worse than an angry ringpiece.

Plenty of others out there who don’t have a problem with a bit of ‘foliage’ in that area.

Ring bleaching is also out.

Protect yourself.

JohnnyFlash · 10-09-2019 5:15pm

Brendan Bendar wrote: »

Correct Emmet, just back after a foreign trip on ‘ important company business’ .

Was a bit ‘bound’ but the chocks were removed on Friday and blew a fairly loose streel of scutther all o er the pewter.

Due to a dip in the arse paper bank decided to use the ring washer.

Got the ‘mixture ‘ wrong and nearly scalded the rivet off me.

So, don’t interfere with ground zero, if your girlfriend doesn’t agree tell her to forkhhe off, nowt worse than an angry ringpiece.

Plenty of others out there who don’t have a problem with a bit of ‘foliage’ in that area.

Ring bleaching is also out.

Protect yourself.

Does your 'good friend', Fr. Ignatius Tarpy, not insist on a clean 'miraculous medal'?

Brendan Bendar · 10-09-2019 5:35pm

JohnnyFlash wrote: »

Does your 'good friend', Fr. Ignatius Tarpy, not insist on a clean 'miraculous medal'?

Likes a bit of butter on his spuds,John.

Like any good rimmster.

You know yourself, aren’t you a friend of Bro. Celsius Twomey.

Fond of a lick out, the word is, croutons is in with that lad, I understand.

Sharp MZ700 · 10-09-2019 7:20pm

gerrybbadd wrote: »

What were you shaving, the arse cheeks and hula hoop?

Gerry I'm surprised you ask this, had you down as an open-minded sort.
Anyone taking a razor anywhere near the hairy valley deserves all they get, I'd wish nothing less bloody than the Battle of The Somme on them truth be told.

knockers84 · 10-09-2019 7:27pm

Utter Consternation wrote: »

Why would you want to shave your arse? Fcuking pointless exercise.

Dangleberries, 50 wipes and still not clean. Well not shave but scissors job

Deebles McBeebles · 10-09-2019 8:23pm

Sharp MZ700 wrote: »

Gerry I'm surprised you ask this, had you down as an open-minded sort.
Anyone taking a razor anywhere near the hairy valley deserves all they get, I'd wish nothing less bloody than the Battle of The Somme on them truth be told.

You may be interested to read back on the thread for Emmet's Downtown Adventures. I can't remember if you did the ringpiece though, E?

EmmetSpiceland · 10-09-2019 8:33pm

Deebles McBeebles wrote: »

You may be interested to read back on the thread for Emmet's Downtown Adventures. I can't remember if you did the ringpiece though, E?

Are you talking about my incident with the tangle that formed a “garrotte” between my cheeks and cause a turd to be sliced but one side slugged up my barse?

I didn’t shave but I did scissor trim. Johnny Flash’s warning about a “ringectomy” put the fear of god into me.

If anyone is going to go “at it” with a wet razor you really should “double mirror” it.

PicardWithHair · 10-09-2019 9:21pm

wouldn't shaving down there have the risk of getting an ingrown hair on the sheriffs badge ?
I can imagine that must be agony - as well as looking like a nice dose of STD too..

Anyway, I had quiet the intake of foodstuffs yesterday, I went to an indian and got a lovely early bird menu.
Then walked home (40min) and launched into the cans of guinness.
Met a mate down the local and had 4 pints of Guinness and some Jameson crested and some packs of bacon fries.
Headed home and had another few cans and polished off a bag of bombay mix.
Then my drunk self found a pot noodle and lashed on the kettle and wolfed that down.

f*ckin hell there should have been a biohazard symbol on the bedroom door this morning.
I was farting all morning - long loud ones that left a fent that would strip paint from the walls.
They even had a thick hot consistency, I reckon the density of them was bordering on the gaseous / liquid state - desperate stuff.

About 7AM was goosestepping to the jacks and let loose a rancid black black black kilo of rancid scutther.
Went back to bed and at about 10 deposited another load of black midden - this time solid and standing on end, out of the water - like an Island.
Windows had to be left open for about an hour to get rid of the pong.
Felt ****ing great tho afterward - like a new man.

Hal3000 · 10-09-2019 9:32pm

Lil Sally Anne Jnr. wrote: »

Fascinating. But did we ever get the bottom of the Peanut Saga? Was it the wife that squeezed out those half digested peanuts and digestive juices from her large intestine or one of your house guests?

I’m sure you’ve already made your mind up who the culprit is so go ahead with whatever torrent on my wife’s good name you have lined up Mon Freire. I should probably care more, but the simple answer is I don’t !

Hotblack Desiato · 10-09-2019 10:30pm

Subject: Anal Fissure Bob Returns
From: afissure@yahoo.com (Joe Cidoni)
Date: Wed, 1 Dec 93 22:52:00 +0200

As you know, my anal fissure Bob and I were due to be
separated today. By that most tasteless of medical marvels,
violent anal dilation, Bob was to be no more.

The hospital scheduled the dilation over a week ago. They had
sent me some medicine that I was to take the night before, and
the morning of the procedure. It consisted of an overdose of
some kind of laxative pill and two suppositories the size of a
sputnik.

Yesterday evening I had ingested the pills and inserted the
Grogan Buster(tm) industrial strength stool liquifier. Around
ten, I began to feel the need, and by 10:15 I was sitting on
the throne enjoying one of the most massive squats of my life.
Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING that was not original
equipment that came with my digestive tract was madly
scrambling for the exit.

Sound like fun? Well, for a while it was. Then things began to
go very, very wrong.

I had evacuated myself from stem to stern. Enough already I
thought. Things slowed down, and I showered off.

This morning, I awoke at 4:00 am and as according to my
physicians instructions, inserted the remaining suppository.
Mistake. By 5:00 I was fully in the throws of the colonic "dry
heaves." There was nothing to sh1t, but my colon was receiving
a chemical message to evacuate at any cost. What had started
out as a good time was rapidly turning into a nightmare.

I arrived at the hospital at 9:00. I was greeted by a nurse
who looked more like a women's prison guard than a nurse. I surrendered my
trousers and at her command was treated to not one, but two
enemas. There was some kind of chemical added to "help clean
you out." I once again began desperately trying to expel the
contents of my digestive system. Alas, it had been empty since
the night before. I sat on the bowl, my sphincter twitching in
and out as it tried to pass the phantom feece that it thought
was there. It began to hurt. Bad. For the next half hour I was
in such terrible pain. My asshole felt as though it had been
beaten with a baseball bat.

I was led into an adjoining examination room. A doctor that
hadn't seen or fingered me before was there. He explained that
my surgery was postponed for a week because they had decided
that one final test should be performed.

I should stop here to tell you that I am an American living in
the country of Finland. Yeah, I speak some Finnish. But it's
limited to things like "Gee, those are nice tits." So I wasn't
too hep to the terminology of Finnish speaking proctologists.

If I knew what was about to happen, I never would have laid
down on that table.

THE SCOPE! OUCH! OhJeesusOhJeesusOhJeesus.

Never do this! No matter what they tell you! No matter how
hard they plead and cajole. Believe me, death is preferable.

What happened to me next was this: A doctor snaked a 60 cm
fibre optic hose up my fundament. It had a viewing scope on one
end, and a device to pump air into my colon on the other. As he
manipulated it up my rectum I could feel the head of the contraption moving
through
my colon. I could imagine the bright light moving through the
labyrinth of sphincters and valves. It reminded me of a
motorcycle racing through a tunnel.

The searing pain was intense. At one point in time, I felt as
if the thing was pressing on my lungs. I definitely felt it try
to enter something that I was sure was some kind of door to my
stomach. At that moment, I began to sweat profusely. The world
began to spin. My stomach tried to retch, but again, nothing to
barf. There I was, lying naked on a cold table with a scope up
my air filled colon trying to spew when a plan for revenge
crept into my mind. With all my might I pressed my diaphragm
down into the pressurised sh1t chamber. A tremendous wet fart
sang around the hose and out my asshole. It was accompanied by
the overwhelming stench of impacted fecal matter. An oh so tiny smile
crossed my lips. The doctor and nurse pretended as though
nothing had happened. It was only moments later that the tube
was retracted and the nurse had to wipe my liquish1t smeared
rectum.

Needless to say, a good time was had by all.

Next week: Violent anal dilation.

Hotblack Desiato · 10-09-2019 10:37pm

Subject: My anal fissure Bob
From: afissure@yahoo.com (Joe Cidoni)
Date: Tue, 28 Dec 93 23:49:00 +0200

My anal fissure Bob and what happened.

It's been a while since violent anal dilation.

I'm afraid that I have neglected my duties by not telling you
about it sooner. But I have been at some loss for words about
it.

My anal fissure Bob who had plagued me for the last three
years is in the process of dying.

After the violent anal dilation I had expected to awaken from
my anaesthetised slumber to find that Bob had been completely
destroyed. Annihilated by modern medicine in a small sterile
room of a hospital in Seinki Finland. A rich heritage of
blood and pain wiped out in minutes by strangers in mask and
gown.

It all started a couple of Mondays ago at 7 am. I hadn't slept
much the night before. Bob was quiet, but I lay awake thinking
about what was to come the next morning. I was a little
worried. I was about to experience something called violent
anal dilation and I was a bit concerned. I found out later that
my fears about the procedure where in fact justified and pretty close to
reality.

I arrived at the hospital in good spirits. I was shown my bed
and given the button up the back surgical minidress. Even
though the procedure wasn't scheduled until 1:30 I was required
to change into the garment. I suppose that it's a mandatory
indignity to humiliate and degrade potential troublemakers.
Perhaps the word had got out that I had been asking questions
about the procedure. What kind of drugs that they would be
giving me, if my physician had performed many of these
procedures etc. Medical personnel here don't like being quizzed
by foreigners with anal fissures. It had taken lots of
explaining just to get permission to have a video taped
documentary of the procedure made and released to me. I had to
get my local practitioner to request it. It has since been
explained to me that most procedures are taped anyway. They
just don't release the tapes to the public.

I was in bed dozing when I felt a sharp pain in my ass. I
whirled my head around in bed to see a rather stern and
matronly looking woman with a large enema bag. Presumably it
was her and her nozzle 'o fun that was causing the distress. I
admired her technique. I was asleep. She probably figured that
I would sleep right through it. What, and miss all the fun? Not
likely. Besides, she was about as gentle as a bull elephant.
Anal fissure Bob let out a sharp cry of pain. And so did I. She
smiled and patted my head like a lap dog as she filled my
rectum. As I looked around the room, I realised that we were
not alone. Not 10 feet away was the wife and 2 teenage
daughters of the vericose vein strip down in the bed next to
me. They were all checking me out. I smiled my best grimace and
tried to enjoy myself.

At 1:00 my doctor dropped by for a chat. The first thing that
I noticed about him was that the hand that he extended in
greeting had a slight palsy. Actually, it was more of a
tremor. This is true! "Halloo" he said with a poorly forced
smile that revealed his large yellow teeth." I spake anglish
warry badney." " Uh....hi" I stammered ". We chatted about
the usual stuff.....pain.... etc. I'm trying to ask the guy
about the procedure when out of the blue, he looks up and says
"We will tear you a new asshole." I am not making this up. By
this time, I am not feeling very confident about what's going
on and am giving some serious thought to just getting up and
leaving. I knew about A.F. Bob. He was something that I could
understand. I could live with him. This surgeon was something
else. An unknown X with a license to dilate. He gave me two
tiny white pills to swallow. "For made you relax" he said.
Hmmmm this guy was starting to speak my language, maybe this
wouldn't be so bad after all. "Seee yuu in da operashunn
place" he said and was gone.

I began feeling a little light headed from whatever drug it
was that he had given me when two orderlies came in. They clucked
low and softly to me in Finnish. Who knows what they were
talking about. I just kept nodding my head stupidly. I couldn't
have answered them anyway as my tongue was stuck to the roof
of my parched mouth. As they rolled me down the hall I tried to
count the number of acoustic tiles in the ceiling.

Eventually, we arrive at the big swinging doors of the
operating room and are met by two others in surgical greens. It
was like a prisoner exchange at the Rhine. They greeted each
other. The two that transported me there wish me a happy
dilation, hand over my file to the others, then turn and leave
me with the dilation team.

As we enter the operating theatre I begin to feel quite
apprehensive. My tongue is thick in my mouth. I am transferred
to the main operating table. The anaesthetist walks in and
without so much as a hello starts tapping my forearm to find a
suitable vein. I try to greet him but all that comes out is a
horrible squawk.

I had been relieved of my meagre garment and I lay there,
alone and naked. I look down in horror to see that my penis and
testicles have completely withdrawn into my abdomen. Perhaps
they had seen it first and were trying to warn me because
there, on a stainless steel tray, nestled amongst strange
looking devices is the object of my apprehension. It is some
sort of anal battering ram. It is matt brushed steel and is about
a foot long. It has two handles bolted to it. And for all the
world it looked like one of those metal thermoses.

By this time, a vein had been found and been hooked up to the
Anaesthetist. He still hasn't said anything so I find my
voice. "How about a little valium to get thing started." He
surprises me by speaking perfect English. "Here;" he said, "Try
this" and injects something into the hook-up that *IMMEDIATELY*
makes me feel secure and right at home. No more problems. I
chuckle at the prospect of the stainless invader.

As this all was happening, the nurses were quite busy. They
had poles that they were affixing to the sides
of the operating table. On top of these poles were large
plastic blocks that were deeply indented to accommodate what
could only be my thighs. A more compromising version of the
stirrups that doctors often use to examine women. And truly,
the video has born my theory out. My buttring is bright,
exposed, and nearly eye level to the wielder of the dilation
tool.

The chief dilator strolls in, and nods at the anaesthetist.
The latter hooks up a large syringe full of some thick and greasy looking
chemical
to my I.V. line and says "See you later." I remember
trying to fight it just to see if I could. I couldn't. I remember having a
monster head rush and trying to speak. That's the last thing that I
remember.

It's only now that I review the video tape that I realise the
horror of what actually happened to me.

It's strange to see yourself lying on a cold slab, your penis
retracted falling unconscious. Right after I go out, a nurse
puts a black rubber mask over my face. Two attendants raise my
thighs into the "stirrups" and scrunch me down so that my
ankles are bent straight back towards my head. The camera
angle is from straight overhead, so you get a weird out of body
feeling watching the whole thing. One nurse manipulates what's
left of my genitalia out of the way while another
unceremoniously paints my asshole with some sort of red tinted
disinfectant.

The doctor wastes no time and before you can say "Is he
asleep?" has two of his fingers deep into my ass. He checks
around and during the examination gives my prostate a mighty
push. I swear that I shoot a load of something straight onto my
belly where it just sits there through the rest of the
procedure. The doctor gives a grunt of satisfaction and reaches
for the dilator.

Nurses squirt some kind of lubricant from a large syringe into
and around my ass. The surgeon then inserts the end of the
dilation unit into my ass and begins rotating it left and right.
Soon he had my poor asshole fully dilated. And I mean
*DILATED*. There I am out like a light with a stainless steel
thermos up my ass. Every thirty seconds or so the doctor does a
360 with the thing.

Everyone is looking pretty bored, especially me.

After about 1/2 hour of this, the doctor removes the dilator
and PUTS HIS ENTIRE HAND UP MY ASS. This is the best part of
the video. If you have had a few drinks and squint a little it
looks for a moment like some kind of bizarre bondage/fisting
film.

A satisfied nod and the nurses move in for the clean up.
Someone has the presence of mind to wipe the manually
ejaculated fluid off of my belly. Someone swabs the sh1t and
blood from my ass.

I get another syringe of something in my arm. The mask comes
off my face. A nurse shakes me gently and my eyes flutter
open. "Is it over?" I ask with wondrous shining eyes. Lots of
nods around the room. "I dreamed" I say. "Wow, I feel fine!"

End of video.

They wheel me into the recovery room where I try to sit up. I
carefully reach down in a cautious exploration of my asshole.
It is confounded with a giant tamponlike stuffing. "Uh oh" I
think to myself and try to ignore it. It's only later when
they pull the stuffing out do I realise the full extent of
what's happened.

Anyway, a little later I eat some soup and vomit it back up
right away. The vomit is a vile green.

The next day, I took the first effortless sh1t that I had in
sometime. Oh joy! Oh nirvana.

After the surgery, Bob was still his usual self. In fact, he
was more terrible than usual. He had expected sudden death and
when he awoke, believing that he had survived a professional
ass (hehe) ass (hehe) ination attempt he was even more pissed
off and motivated then before. He had felt betrayed, and had
amused himself for the first several days after the procedure
by visiting a torturous itching upon me, his host.

The hard part about his slow strangulation is that I can feel
him dying. He groans and complains like any other terminal
patient. I must take him with me wherever I go. We are like the
Siamese twins Chang and Eng. Can I survive without my symbiotic
buddy?

Well, at least fire and blood won't shoot out of my ass every
time that I try to pass a stubborn grogan. I will no longer know
the joys of crying real tears when I sh1t. For a long time I
was told that painful elimination was unnatural. Now, I truly
understand.

Now, two weeks later Bob is only a faint echo of his former
self. He is still hanging onto life, but only just. He is still
there, and ugly slash of an anal fissure. But no longer red and
pusy. The occasional itch. That is all. And even that is
fading rapidly.

And oh yes....my butthole has sprung back to a more manageable
size. Your asshole really is an incredible machine.

I had a small dinner party on Christmas day. After dinner I
put on the video. It took about twenty minutes before anyone
realised that it was me. I guess they thought it was some science programme
or
something. Ho Ho Ho.

Thank you for your interest in my anal fissure Bob.

Joe

Portlawslim · 10-09-2019 10:59pm

PicardWithHair wrote: »

wouldn't shaving down there have the risk of getting an ingrown hair on the sheriffs badge ?
I can imagine that must be agony - as well as looking like a nice dose of STD too..

Anyway, I had quiet the intake of foodstuffs yesterday, I went to an indian and got a lovely early bird menu.
Then walked home (40min) and launched into the cans of guinness.
Met a mate down the local and had 4 pints of Guinness and some Jameson crested and some packs of bacon fries.
Headed home and had another few cans and polished off a bag of bombay mix.
Then my drunk self found a pot noodle and lashed on the kettle and wolfed that down.

f*ckin hell there should have been a biohazard symbol on the bedroom door this morning.
I was farting all morning - long loud ones that left a fent that would strip paint from the walls.
They even had a thick hot consistency, I reckon the density of them was bordering on the gaseous / liquid state - desperate stuff.

About 7AM was goosestepping to the jacks and let loose a rancid black black black kilo of rancid scutther.
Went back to bed and at about 10 deposited another load of black midden - this time solid and standing on end, out of the water - like an Island.
Windows had to be left open for about an hour to get rid of the pong.
Felt ****ing great tho afterward - like a new man.

Have you accidentally stumbled upon a new form of colonic cleanse as well as a weekly detox plan? If so I want to try it ASAP

BeerWolf · 11-09-2019 4:17am

The complete audacity of some people, honestly...!

Hotblack Desiato · 12-09-2019 1:32am

2011 Malawian Air Fouling Legislation

The 2011 Malawian Air Fouling Legislation is a section of the Local Courts bill submitted to the parliament of Malawi in February 2011 that bans fouling the air. When the Minister of Justice claimed that the bill made flatulence in public illegal, the story made headlines around the world. Later, the minister retracted his statement.

Minister of Justice George Chaponda, a Yale law school graduate, insisted that technically the law included flatulence after it was widely reported in the media. In the radio interview on Capital FM, he went further by taking the opportunity to address what he felt really was a social problem in matters of social etiquette concerning flatulence in Malawi society.

He said, "Would you be happy to see people farting anyhow? ... Just go to the toilet when you feel like farting". Chaponda said that people had felt free to fart anywhere since Malawi embraced multi-party politics 16 years earlier. He said, "It was not there during the time of dictatorship because people were afraid of the consequences. Now because of multipartism or freedom, people would like to fart anywhere". He added "Nature can be controlled... it becomes a nuisance if people fart anywhere".

He added that the enforcement of such a law would be similar to laws banning urinating in public and would be treated as a minor offence.

Hector Savage · 13-09-2019 3:39pm

I was in Dublin last weekend and got caught short in town, lucky there was a decent jax downstairs in Arnotts.
It was decent enough - nothing like the 4th floor in Brown Thomas on Grafton St. but still - very welcome when one is goosestepping with the old turtles head poking through the sheriffs badge.

decent soap and hand cream too - very refreshing.

Brendan Bendar · 13-09-2019 3:51pm

Hector Savage wrote: »

I was in Dublin last weekend and got caught short in town, lucky there was a decent jax downstairs in Arnotts.
It was decent enough - nothing like the 4th floor in Brown Thomas on Grafton St. but still - very welcome when one is goosestepping with the old turtles head poking through the sheriffs badge.

decent soap and hand cream too - very refreshing.

One thing we do well is ****ters.

Back from a week abroad on “ important company business” and the standard of ****ters is abysmal.

Pokey little dunnies you could hardly swing a cat in, filthy seats, had to fire from the ‘shotgun’ nearly as bad as the US ****ters couldn’t even spray a fizz of ripe loose midden all over the gaff in protest, some fat kernt would be waiting outside.

Be thankful for what you have folks.

Keyzer · 13-09-2019 3:56pm

What is it about the brits and smearing crap on toilet walls? WAs over there recently with work and some dirt bird before me destroyed the cubicle in a dirty protest...

Hector Savage · 13-09-2019 4:22pm

Brendan Bendar wrote: »

One thing we do well is ****ters.

Back from a week abroad on “ important company business” and the standard of ****ters is abysmal.

Pokey little dunnies you could hardly swing a cat in, filthy seats, had to fire from the ‘shotgun’ nearly as bad as the US ****ters couldn’t even spray a fizz of ripe loose midden all over the gaff in protest, some fat kernt would be waiting outside.

Be thankful for what you have folks.

Nothing worse than the ones you can barely negociate a space between the door and yourself to get out of ! - I'm not even that big myself.

13-09-2019 4:41pm

Hector Savage wrote: »

Brendan Bendar wrote: »

One thing we do well is ****ters.

Back from a week abroad on “ important company business” and the standard of ****ters is abysmal.

Pokey little dunnies you could hardly swing a cat in, filthy seats, had to fire from the ‘shotgun’ nearly as bad as the US ****ters couldn’t even spray a fizz of ripe loose midden all over the gaff in protest, some fat kernt would be waiting outside.

Be thankful for what you have folks.

Nothing worse than the ones you can barely negociate a space between the door and yourself to get out of ! - I'm not even that big myself.

Local gym has a trap like that. You have to stand well over the Jack's to close or open the door behind you. It's a filthy trap too, hate having to use it but the last thing you want is an accidental "discharge" whilst in the squat rack.

Ush1 · 13-09-2019 5:34pm

Was taking a slash at the far end urinal in work today next to the cubicles.

I had just started straining the spuds when I noticed a foot under the first cubicle stall wall, and then with that, the ****er just depressed the airbrakes. It went on for a good 10 seconds, an echoey hissing sound with a pop at the end and he let out a big sigh, he was obviously pre stool and just warming up but Christ the bang! I couldn't finish me p*ss quick enough once that f*cker fumigated the immediate area.

Don't need that on a Friday.

Brendan Bendar · 13-09-2019 5:39pm

Ush1 wrote: »

Was taking a slash at the far end urinal in work today next to the cubicles.

I had just started straining the spuds when I noticed a foot under the first cubicle stall wall, and then with that, the ****er just depressed the airbrakes. It went on for a good 10 seconds, an echoey hissing sound with a pop at the end and he let out a big sigh, he was obviously pre stool and just warming up but Christ the bang! I couldn't finish me p*ss quick enough once that f*cker fumigated the immediate area.

Don't need that on a Friday.

Usually a precursor to a well marbled, ribbed log dropping into the pot.

Nothing but net.

Deebles McBeebles · 13-09-2019 5:40pm

Hector Savage wrote: »

I was in Dublin last weekend and got caught short in town, lucky there was a decent jax downstairs in Arnotts.
It was decent enough - nothing like the 4th floor in Brown Thomas on Grafton St. but still - very welcome when one is goosestepping with the old turtles head poking through the sheriffs badge.

decent soap and hand cream too - very refreshing.

Yet another branch to the public service this thread provides, a public jacks review. Great stuff, Hector. You'll be rewarded, in this life or the next.

Voodoomelon · 13-09-2019 8:16pm

So when/where is the What's The Etiquette Here meet up? Might I bring up The Shelbourne once more, nice bar, top class sh1tters and two doormen to keep the knuckle draggers out. We could discuss the Brendans ideals of papering down, goalpost analogies and theorise as to what happened yer man contemplating taking his frozen sh1ts to work in the wifes Tupperware.

Bullocks · 15-09-2019 6:24am

Voodoomelon wrote: »

So when/where is the What's The Etiquette Here meet up? Might I bring up The Shelbourne once more, nice bar, top class sh1tters and two doormen to keep the knuckle draggers out. We could discuss the Brendans ideals of papering down, goalpost analogies and theorise as to what happened yer man contemplating taking his frozen sh1ts to work in the wifes Tupperware.

The venue would want to pre book dyna rod or someone cos no doubt people would want to leave their mark !

fuerte1976 · 15-09-2019 10:12am

Voodoomelon wrote: »

So when/where is the What's The Etiquette Here meet up? Might I bring up The Shelbourne once more, nice bar, top class sh1tters and two doormen to keep the knuckle draggers out. We could discuss the Brendans ideals of papering down, goalpost analogies and theorise as to what happened yer man contemplating taking his frozen sh1ts to work in the wifes Tupperware.

Ah here, what about the country folk?
Something the exact opposite of what you describe is warranted - to see how the other half live kinda thing.
A sheebeen in Tipperary or similar I'd be thinking or like some of the utter **** holes I frequent here in Kerry.

Ona side note, I left a present in the Gresham yesterday morning before I re commenced consumption.
Bad day at the office for bar staff after I departed-- and later on for Kerry in general..

15-09-2019 10:21pm

I had a great clear out today. French toast with rashers for brunch and a 10oz strip loin steak with potato croquettes for dinner. Fired a mighty torpedo down the range after dinner, minimal cleaning required and odourless to boot. Felt absolutely fantastic afterwards and had a really good day. Why can't life be like this all the time?

JohnnyFlash · 15-09-2019 10:51pm

[Deleted User] wrote: »

I had a great clear out today. French toast with rashers for brunch and a 10oz strip loin steak with potato croquettes for dinner. Fired a mighty torpedo down the range after dinner, minimal cleaning required and odourless to boot. Felt absolutely fantastic afterwards and had a really good day. Why can't life be like this all the time?

A good shîte can be an almost transcendental experience. I’ve been on the spelt bread, smoothies, and salads for the past week. Dropping lovely smooth batons, with little to no paperwork required. I know some people are into mediation or exercise in the morning, but I feel a proper shįte beats any of them. The rest of the day just ‘clicks’. Can anyone confirm this is the case?

Roger Hassenforder · 16-09-2019 12:27am

JohnnyFlash wrote: »

A good shîte can be an almost transcendental experience. I’ve been on the spelt bread, smoothies, and salads for the past week. Dropping lovely smooth batons, with little to no paperwork required. I know some people are into mediation or exercise in the morning, but I feel a proper shįte beats any of them. The rest of the day just ‘clicks’. Can anyone confirm this is the case?

Being having a lot of salads n veggies lately, less meat, more water.
They're magnificent

Aglomerado · 16-09-2019 9:29am

On the Camino de Santiago at the moment and had a proper clear out this morning before setting off for the day's walking. 10k in and far from the next town I felt an enemy at the gates. The piles of horse sh1t and papers in the bushes made me think I wouldn't make it any worse. But I had nothing to wipe with.
I saw a church and went in and said a little prayer that the load would hold until I got to a cafe.
My prayer was answered and I ordered a coffee before nipping to the aseo to unleash an unholy beast from my hole. Then there was no paper! I'm still here drinking my coffee and smirking at the fent I left behind me.

Brendan Bendar · 16-09-2019 9:52am

Aglomerado wrote: »

On the Camino de Santiago at the moment and had a proper clear out this morning before setting off for the day's walking. 10k in and far from the next town I felt an enemy at the gates. The piles of horse sh1t and papers in the bushes made me think I wouldn't make it any worse. But I had nothing to wipe with.
I saw a church and went in and said a little prayer that the load would hold until I got to a cafe.
My prayer was answered and I ordered a coffee before nipping to the aseo to unleash an unholy beast from my hole. Then there was no paper! I'm still here drinking my coffee and smirking at the fent I left behind me.

Just.....a fent!

(Said in the voice of that one in the ‘granny necklace’ ad with the glasses)

What's the etiquette here??

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