New in at #1: At the top of a climbing route at an indoor climbing wall. Thankfully it was not me, but it was my son and I always belay out of the direct fall line. Cleaned him up, got him a change of clothes and he wanted to continue climbing and did so for another 90 minutes. Good lad.

Any similar inconvenient timing of the shits stories?

14hour bus trip in Oz. Not nice :0(

What a shit thread.

My sympathy, it happened to me while queueing for a flight at the brand new gleamng marble terminal at Mohammed Ali Jinnah airport in Karachi. I sprinted for the bogs and found that somebody had been standing on the seat so hovered instead of sitting down. The intestinal pressure was so great that I redecorated the wall behind the bog, the pool of spicy gravy running down and spreading across the floor. There was young Pakistani lad going round the bogs with a mop, proud of his new job as sweeper. As I left the room he got to my trap and opened the door, his jaw dropping in shock. All I could do was shrug and say “sorry”. I still feel guilty about it now.

I do know a girl who felt a bit unwell in the night while dealing with her new son. She let out a fart only to find she exploded across the bathroom including spray painting her husbands suit that was hung up ready to put on for his 5:00am start. I laughed quite loudly when I heard this!

Not me but a mate. First day on hols at a very exclusive resort. Him and his Mrs have far too much to eat and drink and collapse in bed before 9 o’clock. He wakes in the early hours with a severe case of the Turkish trots and staggers to the bathroom. Whilst fumbling for the light switch the door shuts behind him.

At that point he realises that its not the bathroom door. He is in fact stood in the corridor. Naked.

After a few minutes trying to wake his Mrs he runs starkers down one flight of stairs to the ground floor and after working out which is his apartment he quietly attempts to climb up the ten feet or so towards his balcony from the patio area of the ground floor apartment immediately below.

At which point he has a sudden and violent reminder of why he got up in the first place! 😀

Could have been worse…
[video]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZfayydpIKc[/video]

An ex – for reasons other than this story – had an unfortunate reaction when she woke up after the first night spent at my new (and first) house.

She was mortified. So was I. I’d put those clean sheets on specially the day before 👿

i crapped myself whilst out on a secondary school trip to a nuclear power station.

i have never acted so calm in my whole life (whilst trying to let the teacher know my er predicament/and not the rest of the class 😳

I had the shits whilst competing in a week long yacht race.

Me, white deck, mates, sunshine, clear blue sea, 35C.. Not for long 😕

That must have been a serious dose if it changed the colour of the sea and lowered the air temperature!

[video]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SWRth3zlIhY[/video]

I’ve had the shits on a long haul flight twice now. No fun I can tell you.

I once had a rumble just before a particularly difficult class. VERY glad I went to the toilet, literally bucket loads came spewing out, and saved a very embarrassing run for it mid lesson.

Yep, long haul flight. Atlanta to Manchester. Not much fun at all.

Still, it was pretty grim for everyone else too, to be fair.

samuri – Member
Yep, long haul flight. Atlanta to Manchester. Not much fun at all.

Still, it was pretty grim for everyone else too, to be fair.

Arriving in Manchester can’t be fun under any circumstances…

With my then 2 year old daughter on a flight to Toronto. She used up the three Spare nappies I brought. The three changes of clothes. Ended up locked in the toilet for 15 mins whilst an enormous queue built up outside. Stewardesses knocking on door asking to hurry up. Got it all over toilet and floor and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t clean it up, just smeared it further around. Left plane with an airline blanket wrapped around her. The smell flooded the plane it was so bad. I still laugh when I think how manic I was trying to clean it all up with people banging on door. All her clothes had to go in bin on plane.

After a week of being really careful what I ate and drank in random bits of Indonesia, I got the feeling halfway between Singapore and Melbourne, shame there are no seatbelts in the crapper…
Survived without embarrassment but the next 9 hrs was uncomfortable until I was safely back inside my own house (stayed in for the next 3 days)

In a small town in China.

My brother and his mates got such bad food poisoning that after days of shitting and puking, they were going blue in the lips. They arrived at hospital, where they were greeted by a doctor wearing shorts and a haiwan shirt, with a lab coat over the top. Who straight away wanted to take a blood sample with an ancient looking syringe. He then wanted them to take stool samples, they were given cups the size of small espresso cups to shit into. He had to go into a bog that was the dirtiest he’d ever seen, shit all over the floor and up the cubicle doors. He also had an open wound on his hand, so he basically had to shit all over his hand to get any in the cup. He then had to take it through the hospital open topped, where the ‘doctor’ took a swab of it in front of them and then through the cup into bin a spattering shit all up the wall. The quack then wanted to give them an IV drip at which point they were psychologically shitting themselves to the point they refused the IV thinking they were going to get aids and drank them instead.

I thought they were joking and laughed my balls off but the parents corroborated it.

Back in 2007 or 2008 I’d had to drive from Bristol to West London to see a potential new customer. By Reading I’d was feeling a bit sweaty. By Heston my guts were grumbling a bit but I stupidly ignored it. By the time I rolled up outside their office I knew I was in trouble. I marched in briskly and asked the receptionist if I could use their facilities before the meeting then proceeded to redecorate their toilet. It was apocalyptic. When I came out, followed by a smell from the 7th level of hades, the lady I was meeting was stood right there waiting for me. We were both very embarressed but had to make business small talk for an hour.

See also the first Guy Martin Speed episode, doing a tandem endurance attempt. This very subject came up…

In the revolving restaurant at the top if KL tower around an hour ago. At least the traps were techno traps with heated seat and bum wash/dry function.
Rather uncomfortable taxi back to the hotel…

What’s surprising about truly apocalyptic shites is just the volume of stuff that can come out of you, and then 15 minutes later it happens again. And again. And again. I was lying in a bed in Nepal wondering at what point I’d simply be a hollow shell with the entire contents of my body shitted out in a stream into a stinking hole in the ground.

I once had to urgently leave a meeting at another office, go along the corridor, past the secretary, out onto the public landing, to get to the Gents THAT HAD A KEYCODE COMBINATION LOCK ON THE **** DOOR.

Cue increasingly urgent walk back to find someone to give me the combination, then back to the toilets….

Near the top on Mont Ventoux, which, of course, is famous for the number of places to hide if the need arises:

Edit: I should point out I’m lucky that it wasn’t myself involved in this, but a good friend.

This had me crying with laughter. Private jet, important clients and a skinful.

http://www.celebritynetworth.com/articles/entertainment-articles/the-most-embarrassing-private-jet-flight-of-all-time/

Lol 🙂 I’ve not had anything like this, on a few MTB rides is about the worst. There’s also the time I had to do it whilst wild camping with someone I didn’t know, on a flat featureless moor with no trees or cover of any kind.

Whilst kissing my first girlfriend at a school disco aged about 12 was probably my worst.

molgrips – Member

Lol I’ve not had anything like this, on a few MTB rides is about the worst.

Day one of the enduro world series at innerleithen this year- was aware all the way up the last orrible climb of a rising pressure. But thought, no problem, it’ll wait. Got to the top, and there’s a massive queue for the stage. Hmm. Well it’ll probably wait. Get off bike. No, no it won’t wait. Plora Rig’s well provided with trees mind but there’s no subtle way to duck into them for an incredibly liquid and noisy shit when there’s a hundred bored bikers seeking something to pass the time. Especially when the urgency rises as you get into the trees and you can’t get quite as far away as you’d like.

kudos that is superb. You just cant beat toilet funny. 😀

Went to visit friends in Dorset, and had a rather tasty curry the Saturday evening. Popped into the Mrs’s grandparents in Poole for morning tea, then hopped in the car for the drive back to Hull. Stopped off somewhere around Leicester for a bathroom break; all the cubicles were full, so I thought I’d leave it until we got home. At this point there was no warning of the terror to come.

Up the M1, off at the M18 and we were approaching the services at Doncaster – the last one before Hull, and about an hour from home. “Should I stop?” I thought to myself? MrsMonkey was peacefully dozing in the passenger seat, so I thought I’d push on and wait for home.

BAD mistake.

About ten minutes later, the cramps started. The gurgling woke up the Mrs; along with my increasingly distressed squirming. “Are you ok?” Naturally being a man I pretended I was fine, but it became apparent that this clearly wasn’t the case as my groans of agony became louder.

At this point I was having visions of either shitting myself in the car or having to squat at the side of the M62; neither option appealed much. Fortunately MrsMonkey’s parents live outside of Hull on the way home – I’d like to say I’ll never forget the look of surprise on their faces as I barged through the door and into the bathroom to release a torrent of molten lava that frankly I find it hard to believe was lurking in my bowels; I’d like to say that but I’d be lying, as everything between the car and the toilet was a blur.

What I will never forget is the combination of pity and disgust on their faces as I sheepishly emerged from the bathroom, shrouded in a pungent miasma like some kind of evil spirit.

Not me. Genuinely not me, this is a note posted by a mate on Facebook that had me in tears

What I did yesterday.
12 April 2011 at 01:59

So then, in hindsight, yesterday, combining ordering one of the hottest curries I have ever eaten with finishing a three week long course of codeine, wasn’t the best idea that I’ve ever had…

For those of you not familiar with the side effects of codeine, let’s just say it makes the concept of having a quick, easy, painless, satisfying poo a thing of the past. Instead you find yourself sat on the pan, possibly for hours, squealing like Bruce Lee about to karate chop a brick in half, to produce a small brown pebble, the size of a rabbit dropping, but with the consistency of a lead shot that clatters into the bottom of the pan like some sort of **** up roulette ball. Indeed at one point last week I was considering whether it would be prudent to install grab handles and foot straps around the toilet in a desperate bid to improve leverage.

Needless to say, when you stop taking codeine, your guts soon return to normal, and due to the previous backlog, the chamber is very much cocked and loaded so to speak. Add to this the effect that the active ingredient in chilli has on increasing bowel motility and you have a recipe for disaster.

We’d taken my granny out to lunch to celebrate her 98th birthday to a local pub famous for it’s Indian food and décor. Without thinking, I ordered the Goan Beef (hot), which in retrospect was a schoolboy error of judgement.

The first I became aware that some sort of problem was imminent was in the car as I drove my mother and grandmother back from the dinner. We were about fifteen minutes from home when I noticed a peculiar contraction feeling in my abdominal region and felt my guts make a ‘fludup’ sound.

Think of the theme from Jaws-

Fluuuduuuup….fluuuduuuup,…fluuuduuuup…fluuuduuup, fluudup, fluduup, as the sounds and feelings became both more intense and closer together. Those of you with experience of childbirth will know that this sequence of events usually signals the imminent arrival of something.

By this time my mother had picked up that I wasn’t feeling very well. The signs of me going deathly pale, utterly silent, and a cold sweat pouring down my forehead were enough to alert her to my distress.

“Are you feeling ok” she enquired?

“I’ve felt better” I replied, “that curry’s really had an effect on me”, as my bowel did yet another contraction – fluudduuuup.

“We can stop at that Little Chef if you like?” she said.

Fluudduuuup.

Images of the toilet scene from Trainspotting flashed through my mind.

“Nope it’s ok” said I, “we’re only five minutes from home, and I think I can make it”, as I pressed the accelerator to the floor. Fortunately Granny was unaware of the imminent crisis going on beside her.

Fluudduuuppp.

“I hope the level crossing isn’t down”, said my mother helpfully.

Fluuudddduuupppp.

Now normally I’m not the superstitious type, but when you’re facing the prospect of possibly shitting yourself in the car in front of two of your elderly female relatives, this isn’t the sort of comment that you want to hear, and I’m afraid I may have lost it a little bit.

“WHY, WHY, WHY, WHY SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT? GOOD GOD MOTHER, IF THERE’S A TRAIN COMING, YOU’RE GOING TO END UP WITH A CAR SEAT FULL OF SHIT, AND A SMELL THAT YOU’LL NEVER GET OUT. WHY? WHY? WHY?”

As you can tell, I’d left my normally sanguine self behind, and was quite upset at this point. However fortune did favour the desperate, and the level crossing was clear, and apart from a few people blithely and selfishly observing the speed limit on the way home, we made it to the road that my mother’s house is on without further ado. Now normally I’d drive in, past the front door, do a leisurely three point turn on the drive, and then draw peacefully up facing back the way I’d came in front of the door, so that the passenger door and thus my granny was adjacent to the front door, so that we can help her in using her walking frame.

Not this time. Having had the presence of mind to pre-warn my mother, I screeched up to the front door like something out of The Sweeney (it’s a 70s cop show for the younger readers amongst you), and leapt out of the driver’s side like a man possessed, which in a sense I was, and dived towards the front door, to put the key in the lock and open the door before tossing the keys back in the direction of my mother.

As I opened the door, once again lady luck decided to piss briefly on my chips, and my mother’s dog (Beetle), having been cooped up for the duration of three whole **** hours decided that now was the time to make a break for freedom and dashed out into the street.

Happily my cry of “GETBACKINTHEHOUSENOWYOULITTLEBUGGER” managed to stop him in his tracks, and so ears down, tail between his legs, his bid for freedom was curtailed as my size 10s gave him a helpful boot back in through the door, as I legged it up the hall whilst simultaneously undoing my belt.

Now let me tell you, getting up the stairs, whilst simultaneously dropping your trousers and undercrackers is no mean feat. In fact Usain Bolt had nothing on me today, I was like greased lightening, and for good reason.

Now dear reader, those of you of a more sensitive disposition may like to stop reading here. What happened in that bathroom when I got there is for the strong of stomach only. I suggest that if you’re sneakily perusing this in your lunch break that you stop reading now, and finish your lunch before you carry on, for hereafter it does get quite scatological.

The sound. What can I say about the sound, other than it will stay with me for the rest of my life. Imagine if you will the sound of a large bucket of slippery eels being poured down an even bigger funnel liberally greased with butter. For a very long time. In fact there was more than one bucket. And then some smaller buckets. And then an enormous bucket. Some smaller ones again, and then one more big one. And finally one small one. It was a bit like when there’s an earthquake, you know that there are aftershocks coming, and it’s unclear when they’ll stop. When you hear a sound that awful, combined with the other assault on my senses, something very strange happens, and you start to see yourself in the third person as if you’re looking down from above. I’m sure it must be some sort of coping mechanism to distance yourself from the trauma of what’s just happened.

The smell. Best not mention the smell, only to say that when The Event went down, a small shockwave similar to that which you see in nuclear detonations was sent out in all directions. It’s a good job the dog was still downstairs, as he’s only small, and that level of noxious gases could easily have been fatal.

So then it was over. I looked down between my legs to survey the devastation that I had wrought. Tiny patches of white porcelain were visible inbetween the fizzing brown morass. I won’t describe what was in the water. Fortunately in my mother’s bathroom there is a sink next to the toilet, so I was able to wet some toilet paper under the cold tap, in order to start what may euphemistically be called ‘The Clean Up Operation’. For some reason as I was dabbing gently, the Johnny Cash song ‘Ring of Fire’ kept on going through my head.

All cleaned up, I walked back downstairs. Mother and granny were now out of the car, and safely ensconced in the living room. As I walked into the room with a thousand yard stare like a war veteran with PTSD, my mother helpfully piped up “Well it’s a good job we’ve got three toilets in this house, because I’m guessing that one’s not going to be habitable for a good few hours”.

^^ Almost worthy of blu-tone…

nbt – I have been crying while reading that. Made funnier of course by the fact we know him 🙂

Le Mans and it’s primitive toilet facilities….This one had me in stitches

http://www.lemans2006.co.uk/socks.htm

Just a few days ago, was out walking the dogs at just about sunrise. About a mile from home, the lower plumbing started to rumble and I knew what was coming. Walked as fast as I could and about 100 yards from the garage door, eyes watering, the dam broke–just as a young lady walking her dog came around the corner. Needless to say I didn’t stop to chat. Went in the garage, took off pants and put them in a plastic garbage bag, cleaned up a bit with a towel and walked into the house, where Mrs busydog’s reaction was along the lines of “what the hell were you doing walking the dogs bare-ass naked?”

Yes as somebody else posted, it’s amazing how much hot liquid comes out of you. I had it really badly in a hotel in Pakistan after eating melted ice cream; I was on the bog all night and it was both ends simultaneously. I must have lost a couple of pounds in weight.

I must have lost a couple of pounds in weight.

After my Indonesia experience I think I lost about 5Kg in 3 weeks, it was a bit scary. Which is great news that my tickets for next week are on the way and I get back a week on Saturday then race the first Tassie Gravity Enduro on the Sunday. hmmmmm

first Tassie Gravity Enduro on the Sunday. hmmmmm

In the context of the thread, I read that as ‘gravy enduro’. 🙂

Halfway up a rock face for me on more than one occasion. I try not to ruin the experience of anyone trying to climb the route after me, but sadly it’s not always possible.