What's the etiquette here??

28-02-2020 11:35am

Back on topic, is there any feeling like the fear as the toilet bowl fills to the brim as you flush, followed by exhilaration and relief when the blockage clears and the bowl rapidly empties!

armaghlad · 28-02-2020 11:40am

Pintman Paddy Losty wrote: »

Where the fcuk do you get off posting such utter tosh. Fcking disrespectful little ****.

I've a todger on me that you could use to crowbar open a metal security door with. It's in perfect working order even after a skinful of pints. It's had many a hooker yelping as she bounced up and down on it.

Prick.

Yeah right losty you’re fooling no one here. I’d say it’s more like a fun size lion bar. You’re probably sat pulling the front bar of yourself in the cupboard at the mere sight of a female as we speak. Some confused oul wan with a moustache in looking for some wd40 wondering why the shop is empty while your peeping through with your one-inch pincher firmly clasped between your index finger and thumb. Ye dirty fècker

TomSweeney · 28-02-2020 3:30pm

Could hang a theatre curtain off the thing I heard....

NeinNeinNein · 28-02-2020 3:35pm

There's a powerful air of homoeroticism in here today.

TomSweeney · 28-02-2020 4:42pm

NeinNeinNein wrote: »

There's a powerful air of homoeroticism in here today.

You sound a bit bound up and on edge - nothing a good blast of yobble on the back of the pewter won't sort,followed by a good hard ****.

mfceiling · 28-02-2020 6:35pm

Bit worried lads.

A new Romanian labourer started yesterday. I never copped it but my mate did.
Everytime one of the lads heads to the new jacks he's straight in after them. Now he thinks he's savvy by bringing in a mop bucket or a roll of blue paper for drying your hands, but this fcuker is definitely getting a kick out of this.
I went in this afternoon for a sit down and to empty out this morning's breakfast. Within seconds of sitting down I heard the door open. No noise from him going for a slash or washing his hands, but just the sound of him shuffling around arranging the bin and moving the soap container at the sink.
I've no issue emptying the trap so i let loose with both barrels but at the back of my mind I knew he was mooching around listening to this.
It's a small fitout team of about 12 lads and we all get on well so we let the other lads know what's going on. I've no doubt in my mind that he has some sort of fetish.
Any advice?

*obviously not going to take my mates advice that the next time he follows anyone in that we all pile in and beat the head off him*

ILikeBoats · 28-02-2020 6:40pm

Why why why why USA. Why??!

I am currently in the US for work. Having seen the gaps-in-the-traps on my last few visits, I had made it my mission not to use the office facilities...ever.

I had a chicken "sandwich", as they like to call them here, of the buffalo variety for dinner last night. This was followed by multiple local porters, enough to leave me a bit groggy this morning.

I made a "deposit" in the hotel room before leaving but I knew in my heart that it wouldn't satisfy the requirements for the day. After a coffee earlier, the "midden factory" went into overdrive. I tried to hold it off as long as I could but I knew that I couldn't delay it until I got back to base. I had no choice but to use the cubicles of shame.

I was as quick and efficient as possible. There was quite an exotic aroma, however the texture was quite undesirable. One person did come in while I was there but luckily he walked with purpose past my trap, he knew the score, I was not "viewed" in my vunerable position.

I'm hoping this was the last time I am put through that terrible affliction.

For reference, I have attached a picture of said gaps. B@stards.

28-02-2020 7:22pm

^^^ And they have the gall to call themselves a civilised nation. Savages.

perrito caliente · 28-02-2020 8:25pm

I've always been discomforted by the idea of workplace **** and until today, I had never shot a snotty load of viscous ball string inside my place of employment. I always associated this activity with office low-lives, cretins with bloodshot eyes and greasy palms. Oily tech-wizards in smegma smeared hoodies who breathe heavily through ulcerated mouths, leaving gluey fingerprints on the gorilla glass of their ugly Chinese made phones, and dusty globs of dried semen in the headphone sockets and plastic seams of their portable CD players. But something about reading through the experiences of the other gentleman on this website must have weakened my resolve.

I dropped a grainy mound of thick orange suet pitted with seeds and husks about 11.30 today. Very pungent aroma of prune juice, pan-fried pigeon breast, something sweet like treacle, rotten cabbage, dead squirrels or roadkill, and advanced gangrene. Kind of smell you love to get deep up in your nostrils when it comes from within your own body, but that drives you to suicide in short order when it comes from someone else. So I was wiping my hole trying to watch for any stray seeds or kernels dropping to the floor, when I became aware that my ‘piece’ was rather distended, not erect, but thick and mean looking, “taking up space”, making shapes so to speak, swinging left to right like an imposing piece of old knotted rope, the kind you’d use to moor a medium sized tugboat. I think we’ve all been there, when the awl lad is looking especially threatening, and you wouldn’t mind being a bit deceptive and leaving the door unlocked so that one of your uppity colleagues might wander into the trap by mistake only to be confronted by the sight of your swollen trunk of still flaccid, freckled free range meat. Who’s the boss now Graham you pudgy wet-brained waste of oxygen? Who’s laughing now Mark you sh1t-eyed subhuman?

Got a musky smell from my balls next, and became aware of a sweaty slipstream either side of my testicle sack where the pouch sits flush with my thighs. Funny how the human mind works, I’d been thinking about CJ Stander wrestling on the floor with English second row Itoje in the game last weekend, when my mind started to wander to yer wan Christina Anderson who stabbed that fellah to death over poor driving, and then I got to thinking how I’d like to stab her a few times too with a lathered-up section of my pink and purple quarterstaff.

So up I stood as straight as one of her majesty’s royal soldiers and started pumping my baton fiercely with a moist hairy hand, only pausing to put my boot up on the seat and spit a long silvery trail of saliva down onto my glans head as advised by another poster here, trying my best to angle the coolant hole down into the bowl, but there was serious upwards pressure and my hot pipe was desperate to be facing heavenwards. You’d have needed to tie a few lead fishing weights to keep him down.

Anyway I had one hand on my pipe, and the other clutching my arse, and soon enough he starts spurting watery and translucent two-to three second blasts of sticky whitebait all over the toilet seat and undercarriage, into the plastic hinges, onto the toilet brush, the back wall, and two- part flush mechanism. I'd absolutely dosed the jumbo sized toilet rolls and probably shot right through to the cardboard interior. Again and again clear hot ball juice shot out at lightning speed from my blow-hole and I simply couldn’t keep the muzzel downward facing. Wiped away as much as I could but to give you a picture, If I’d gone for a piss after ten pints I’d say I couldn’t have soaked the place any more than I did.

Twenty seconds of two-to-three second blasts of hot, pressurized crystal clear fish-odoured sperm with enough force to shave the rust and grime off an antique coin. If you threw two buoys and a life-ring in an ornamental pond you'd have some idea how my face must have looked for that half-minute. After the last blast I slapped my ball sack to see if I’d any ‘ammo’ left in the extended magazine, but alas, it was fully drained. Realised then that there'd been several visitors in the trap next door while I was pulling off and that my hi-vis jacket had fallen off the clothes hanger on the back of the door and could easily identify me. Flushed away the fudge next, which had gone even more gamey in odour, and made a quick exit as the cubicle had started to smell like someone had half-heated three or four tubs of Cully and Skully Seafood chowder.

Pintman Paddy Losty · 28-02-2020 8:47pm

You are one perritto enfermo my man.

I'm with you on the stabber woman though. Those raunchy pics really get the juices flowing it has to be said.

Nevin Parsnipp · 28-02-2020 9:58pm

Pintman Paddy Losty wrote: »

Very poor effort. Not a patch on what Brendan produces.

D+ must try harder.

Bit of a sour response Losty....but then nothin else is expected from you .!

All i was trying to do was throw out a bit of amusing doggerel for the scat dudes who inhabit these parts.

You sound like a cove with serious digestive issues ....some would describe as a bilious kernt .

My take is that you have an angry nest of ar$e grapes that need "pruning" a task I would be more than happy to carry out with the nib of a stout well polished brogan.

Now lad ...less of the sour bile ...and maybe we could get along .....

Fireball81 · 29-02-2020 1:38am

Dump in city centre pub tonight, very little paper so had to rachin to make sure I wasn't caught short. Good few pints of Guinness so it was dark.

Some rude ****er tapping in the door, like I give a **** if you are ready to burst.

Sober Crappy Chemis · 29-02-2020 2:05pm

perrito caliente wrote: »

I've always been discomforted by the idea of workplace **** and until today, I had never shot a snotty load of viscous ball string inside my place of employment. I always associated this activity with office low-lives, cretins with bloodshot eyes and greasy palms. Oily tech-wizards in smegma smeared hoodies who breathe heavily through ulcerated mouths, leaving gluey fingerprints on the gorilla glass of their ugly Chinese made phones, and dusty globs of dried semen in the headphone sockets and plastic seams of their portable CD players. But something about reading through the experiences of the other gentleman on this website must have weakened my resolve.

I dropped a grainy mound of thick orange suet pitted with seeds and husks about 11.30 today. Very pungent aroma of prune juice, pan-fried pigeon breast, something sweet like treacle, rotten cabbage, dead squirrels or roadkill, and advanced gangrene. Kind of smell you love to get deep up in your nostrils when it comes from within your own body, but that drives you to suicide in short order when it comes from someone else. So I was wiping my hole trying to watch for any stray seeds or kernels dropping to the floor, when I became aware that my ‘piece’ was rather distended, not erect, but thick and mean looking, “taking up space”, making shapes so to speak, swinging left to right like an imposing piece of old knotted rope, the kind you’d use to moor a medium sized tugboat. I think we’ve all been there, when the awl lad is looking especially threatening, and you wouldn’t mind being a bit deceptive and leaving the door unlocked so that one of your uppity colleagues might wander into the trap by mistake only to be confronted by the sight of your swollen trunk of still flaccid, freckled free range meat. Who’s the boss now Graham you pudgy wet-brained waste of oxygen? Who’s laughing now Mark you sh1t-eyed subhuman?

Got a musky smell from my balls next, and became aware of a sweaty slipstream either side of my testicle sack where the pouch sits flush with my thighs. Funny how the human mind works, I’d been thinking about CJ Stander wrestling on the floor with English second row Itoje in the game last weekend, when my mind started to wander to yer wan Christina Anderson who stabbed that fellah to death over poor driving, and then I got to thinking how I’d like to stab her a few times too with a lathered-up section of my pink and purple quarterstaff.

So up I stood as straight as one of her majesty’s royal soldiers and started pumping my baton fiercely with a moist hairy hand, only pausing to put my boot up on the seat and spit a long silvery trail of saliva down onto my glans head as advised by another poster here, trying my best to angle the coolant hole down into the bowl, but there was serious upwards pressure and my hot pipe was desperate to be facing heavenwards. You’d have needed to tie a few lead fishing weights to keep him down.

Anyway I had one hand on my pipe, and the other clutching my arse, and soon enough he starts spurting watery and translucent two-to three second blasts of sticky whitebait all over the toilet seat and undercarriage, into the plastic hinges, onto the toilet brush, the back wall, and two- part flush mechanism. I'd absolutely dosed the jumbo sized toilet rolls and probably shot right through to the cardboard interior. Again and again clear hot ball juice shot out at lightning speed from my blow-hole and I simply couldn’t keep the muzzel downward facing. Wiped away as much as I could but to give you a picture, If I’d gone for a piss after ten pints I’d say I couldn’t have soaked the place any more than I did.

Twenty seconds of two-to-three second blasts of hot, pressurized crystal clear fish-odoured sperm with enough force to shave the rust and grime off an antique coin. If you threw two buoys and a life-ring in an ornamental pond you'd have some idea how my face must have looked for that half-minute. After the last blast I slapped my ball sack to see if I’d any ‘ammo’ left in the extended magazine, but alas, it was fully drained. Realised then that there'd been several visitors in the trap next door while I was pulling off and that my hi-vis jacket had fallen off the clothes hanger on the back of the door and could easily identify me. Flushed away the fudge next, which had gone even more gamey in odour, and made a quick exit as the cubicle had started to smell like someone had half-heated three or four tubs of Cully and Skully Seafood chowder.

Summary : had a wankk in the jacks in work whilst fantasizing about a murderer.

Brendan Bendar · 29-02-2020 7:26pm

Summary.. load of bollox

Kermit.de.frog · 29-02-2020 9:53pm

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s0tCO4NdKeU

Bullocks · 29-02-2020 10:01pm

Kermit.de.frog wrote: »

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s0tCO4NdKeU

The plug is bound to get pissed on where they have it

Bullocks · 29-02-2020 10:13pm

I had 16 pints of perfect porter last night , a few vodka and whites when I couldn't fit anymore guinney in and a peppering of sambuchas as well .
Surprisingly I only had 1 poisonous smelly but small deposit to make this morning
I'm in bad shape today with the nerves after it and I reckon tomorrow will be black scour seems as it doesn't seem to have left the system yet .Not even leaking air today which you would think I should be .
Wonder should I snake in tonight for a few more to help me through this hangover ?

Blowheads · 29-02-2020 11:29pm

Bullocks wrote: »

I had 16 pints of perfect porter last night , a few vodka and whites when I couldn't fit anymore guinney in and a peppering of sambuchas as well .
Surprisingly I only had 1 poisonous smelly but small deposit to make this morning
I'm in bad shape today with the nerves after it and I reckon tomorrow will be black scour seems as it doesn't seem to have left the system yet .Not even leaking air today which you would think I should be .
Wonder should I snake in tonight for a few more to help me through this hangover ?

Chance 6 or 7 and a pack a dry roasted, should bring about desired results for the morning

JohnnyFlash · 03-03-2020 12:08pm

Made a cod and puy lentil dish for dinner last night. Absolutely delicious I must say. Also very potent combination when it came to my bowel movement this morning.

Very solid and well marbled - that would be the lentils.

Stank to high heaven - very pungent seaweed and maritime notes - that would be the cod.

Very little paperwork required, but took a second flush to drown the hellbeast and ‘get rid of the body’.

03-03-2020 12:30pm

I had a massive strip loin steak for dinner last night, left a mighty "devils tower" in the work bog a while ago. Surprisingly little fent considering it broke the waterline. I was almost sorry to flush it away.

perrito caliente · 03-03-2020 10:33pm

mfceiling wrote: »

Everytime one of the lads heads to the new jacks he's straight in after them. Now he thinks he's savvy by bringing in a mop bucket or a roll of blue paper for drying your hands, but this fcuker is definitely getting a kick out of this.

Any update on this?

Guy I knew worked in a call centre a few years ago and there was a strong suspicion that one of the men was fitting tiny cameras all over the jacks. He was confronted but they had no evidence, then after he left, they found a few of them. He was shooting up-skirt, urinal shots, side channels, rims etc. Sick world out there. Safe safe bro.

Fireball81 · 04-03-2020 8:47am

Wonder how the dumps went for the royals who were in the Guinness storehouse last night?!?!

Had a few pints last night with the lads, am quite gassy this morning so there won't be any Coronavirus on this dart carriage anyway.

Think it's rearing its ugly head, hopefully can hold it in till I get to work.

Slideways · 04-03-2020 12:12pm

The aussies have lost the run of themselves, panic buying toilet paper due to the corona virus. Last I checked pissing brown water out your balloon knot wasn’t a symptom.

Surely buying all the arts degrees and leaving yours truely to wipe his hoop with kitchen roll or a sock out of the pile of odd ones by the washing machine constitutes poor etiquette?

padd b1975 · 04-03-2020 12:43pm

perrito caliente wrote: »

Any update on this?

Guy I knew worked in a call centre a few years ago and there was a strong suspicion that one of the men was fitting tiny cameras all over the jacks. He was confronted but they had no evidence, then after he left, they found a few of them. He was shooting up-skirt, urinal shots, side channels, rims etc. Sick world out there. Safe safe bro.

Calm down there Cupcake.

It's the epitome of a victimless crime.

EmmetSpiceland · 04-03-2020 12:53pm

padd b1975 wrote: »

Calm down there Cupcake.

It's the epitome of a victimless crime.

I’d disagree, P. Whatever about someone sniffing a saddle or “pinching” underwear from the washing line/gym bag there is a clear victim here.

While it’s certainly not as offensive as “frottaging” or “sharking”, both Japanese and European, it is a gross invasion of privacy. The toilet is a private place and should be afforded “sanctuary” status.

It crosses the line from, harmless, “peeping tom” to sinister sex pest. The “peeper” will only get one look but a toilet “recorder” will be watching over and over and, possibly, selling, or broadcasting, the footage online.

Toilet recording of others is a severe breach of “etiquette”, up there with waiting outside the stall.

padd b1975 · 04-03-2020 1:28pm

EmmetSpiceland wrote: »

I’d disagree, P. Whatever about someone sniffing a saddle or “pinching” underwear from the washing line/gym bag there is a clear victim here.

While it’s certainly not as offensive as “frottaging” or “sharking”, both Japanese and European, it is a gross invasion of privacy. The toilet is a private place and should be afforded “sanctuary” status.

It crosses the line from, harmless, “peeping tom” to sinister sex pest. The “peeper” will only get one look but a toilet “recorder” will be watching over and over and, possibly, selling, or broadcasting, the footage online.

Toilet recording of others is a severe breach of “etiquette”, up there with waiting outside the stall.

Looks like GDPR has worked it's magic on another poor unfortunate.

Fireball81 · 04-03-2020 2:27pm

Slideways wrote: »

The aussies have lost the run of themselves, panic buying toilet paper due to the corona virus. Last I checked pissing brown water out your balloon knot wasn’t a symptom.

Surely buying all the arts degrees and leaving yours truely to wipe his hoop with kitchen roll or a sock out of the pile of odd ones by the washing machine constitutes poor etiquette?

Ridiculous carry on.

In the unlikely event paper is in short supply you simply have a dump and wash any straggler bits from the hole in the shower. I thought most people did that anyway or is it just me?

akelly02 · 04-03-2020 4:48pm

perrito caliente wrote: »

I've always been discomforted by the idea of workplace **** and until today, I had never shot a snotty load of viscous ball string inside my place of employment. I always associated this activity with office low-lives, cretins with bloodshot eyes and greasy palms. Oily tech-wizards in smegma smeared hoodies who breathe heavily through ulcerated mouths, leaving gluey fingerprints on the gorilla glass of their ugly Chinese made phones, and dusty globs of dried semen in the headphone sockets and plastic seams of their portable CD players. But something about reading through the experiences of the other gentleman on this website must have weakened my resolve.

I dropped a grainy mound of thick orange suet pitted with seeds and husks about 11.30 today. Very pungent aroma of prune juice, pan-fried pigeon breast, something sweet like treacle, rotten cabbage, dead squirrels or roadkill, and advanced gangrene. Kind of smell you love to get deep up in your nostrils when it comes from within your own body, but that drives you to suicide in short order when it comes from someone else. So I was wiping my hole trying to watch for any stray seeds or kernels dropping to the floor, when I became aware that my ‘piece’ was rather distended, not erect, but thick and mean looking, “taking up space”, making shapes so to speak, swinging left to right like an imposing piece of old knotted rope, the kind you’d use to moor a medium sized tugboat. I think we’ve all been there, when the awl lad is looking especially threatening, and you wouldn’t mind being a bit deceptive and leaving the door unlocked so that one of your uppity colleagues might wander into the trap by mistake only to be confronted by the sight of your swollen trunk of still flaccid, freckled free range meat. Who’s the boss now Graham you pudgy wet-brained waste of oxygen? Who’s laughing now Mark you sh1t-eyed subhuman?

Got a musky smell from my balls next, and became aware of a sweaty slipstream either side of my testicle sack where the pouch sits flush with my thighs. Funny how the human mind works, I’d been thinking about CJ Stander wrestling on the floor with English second row Itoje in the game last weekend, when my mind started to wander to yer wan Christina Anderson who stabbed that fellah to death over poor driving, and then I got to thinking how I’d like to stab her a few times too with a lathered-up section of my pink and purple quarterstaff.

So up I stood as straight as one of her majesty’s royal soldiers and started pumping my baton fiercely with a moist hairy hand, only pausing to put my boot up on the seat and spit a long silvery trail of saliva down onto my glans head as advised by another poster here, trying my best to angle the coolant hole down into the bowl, but there was serious upwards pressure and my hot pipe was desperate to be facing heavenwards. You’d have needed to tie a few lead fishing weights to keep him down.

Anyway I had one hand on my pipe, and the other clutching my arse, and soon enough he starts spurting watery and translucent two-to three second blasts of sticky whitebait all over the toilet seat and undercarriage, into the plastic hinges, onto the toilet brush, the back wall, and two- part flush mechanism. I'd absolutely dosed the jumbo sized toilet rolls and probably shot right through to the cardboard interior. Again and again clear hot ball juice shot out at lightning speed from my blow-hole and I simply couldn’t keep the muzzel downward facing. Wiped away as much as I could but to give you a picture, If I’d gone for a piss after ten pints I’d say I couldn’t have soaked the place any more than I did.

Twenty seconds of two-to-three second blasts of hot, pressurized crystal clear fish-odoured sperm with enough force to shave the rust and grime off an antique coin. If you threw two buoys and a life-ring in an ornamental pond you'd have some idea how my face must have looked for that half-minute. After the last blast I slapped my ball sack to see if I’d any ‘ammo’ left in the extended magazine, but alas, it was fully drained. Realised then that there'd been several visitors in the trap next door while I was pulling off and that my hi-vis jacket had fallen off the clothes hanger on the back of the door and could easily identify me. Flushed away the fudge next, which had gone even more gamey in odour, and made a quick exit as the cubicle had started to smell like someone had half-heated three or four tubs of Cully and Skully Seafood chowder.

that literally bates banagher

Pintman Paddy Losty · 04-03-2020 8:35pm

padd b1975 wrote: »

Looks like GDPR has worked it's magic on another poor unfortunate.

What do the data protection wonks make of a man highly shining the toecap of his brógan and then strategically standing close to short skirted young ones on the Luas in summer?

Is this a breach of GDPR or given no image has been recorded is it not subject to the legislation?

I'd imagine an experienced creep like yourself would have these loopholes figured out?

Lewis_Benson · 04-03-2020 9:00pm

[Deleted User] wrote: »

I had a massive strip loin steak for dinner last night, left a mighty "devils tower" in the work bog a while ago. Surprisingly little fent considering it broke the waterline. I was almost sorry to flush it away.

Nothing to do with the steak, wouldnt have been digested yet after one day.

What's the etiquette here??

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