dissapointed

I heard a great story from a former colleague about 2 Engineers from his past firm who were over in Malaysia commissioning some tooling.

They wanted to take in the local culture so had lunch from a street vendor before setting off back to the hotel during rush hour traffic.

They had a choice of 2 bridges over the river – old and new. The new bridge had a toll but traffic was moving. The old bridge was free but packed. The guy refused flatly to pay the toll. They opted for culture and thrift.

Sure enough, I bet you guessed, half way over, the gurgling started.

He didn’t make it over the bridge, was left sitting in it in the car with the other occupants gasping! All for 10p.

Funnily enough, another guy I worked with left our place and went to the above company. He called a couple of months later to say he may have to go to Malaysia and had been told “Pay for the new bridge!”.

Oh. My. God
Miss stripes thinks I’m revolting after laughing my way through this over breakfast.

Never had this problem at work, but many years ago when out for a run I similarly gambled and lost. The nearest public convievence was a train station (Truro) and I waddled in to the gents to rid myself of my squelchy undies. What I had failed to consider was that those IRA bastards had ensured that the only bin on a public train station was half way down the platform and a transparent bag (admittedly not their greatest crime)

The time (sponsored by my inAccurist butthole) was approximately 8:30 and the station crowded.

A walk of shame the likes of which I never wish to repeat ensued as I gingerly clutched those bright stripy boxers betwixt finger and thumb. 😐

@waswaswas Ive been away on my holidays 😀 just got back to check the thread and had a giggle at the replies.

It was a long time ago, but the stench still haunts me. While in the senior service, and serving on that fine vessel HMS Invincible, a terrible, terrible thing happened during its last deployment before being sent to the knackers yard. As it was the last deployment, the supply officer had taken the decision that instead of ordering the usual amount of fresh victuals, that it would be cost effective to use whatever was left in the ships freezers, no matter how long it had been in there, oh, how he regretted that decision.

So after several weeks of sailing about the North Atlantic we finally turned for home, the evening meal was dished up, a choice between lamb and fish, we didn’t know it then, but it was a game of brown trouser Russian roulette.

A couple of hours later, suddenly and without warning, half the mess started loosing off what can only be described in naval terms as a “full broadside”. The noise, the smell, the looks of sheer panic on the faces of the afflicted as they suddenly sprinted out the door up the passage way to the nearest heads, only to find that half the ships company were also doing the penguin sprint to any heads that they could find. Within minutes, the passageway looked like a major incident in a mulligatawny soup factory, some didnt even make it out of the mess before their sphincters waved the white flag of surrender and accepted their fate. And those that werent affected? well, the rolling motion of the ship, combined with the stench of a couple hundred sailors sharting themselves triggered what can only be described as a vomiting chain reaction, it was carnage!! The sickbay was swamped (literally), then the medial officer announced over the ships tannoy that it appeared that the fish may have been “off” and anyone affected was to stay in bed for 24 hours and to keep taking fluids. So, on this advice I crawled to bed, poured myself into my sleeping bag and zipped it up, with hindsight not the smartest thing to do, as 30 minutes later, I was still desperately fumbling with the zip to escape my quilted coffin of diarrhea as a jet of bottom gravy came out with such velocity that it hit the back of my head, and there I lay delirious, in my own filth for the next 12 hours.

And the aftermath? Several decks had to have a deep clean, the Chinese laundry men onboard, had thousand yard stares for about a week, after dealing with soiled clothes/sleeping bags/towels and it was found that the fish had been onboard so long that they should have been awarded a Falklands Medal.

Reign_Man wins! Priceless write-up 😀

God Good.

Post of the week and indeed the month!

I am crying with laughter and my daughter has left the room in disgust. She didn’t even get to the sleeping bag bit. 😆

My cousin, a GP, got food poisoning during a doctors’ convention at an hotel somewhere. He and a dozen other doctors had to spend a couple of days in hospital on a drip to keep the fluids up.

Nowadays when I travel in Africa I carry a good supply of Lomotil and Ciprofloxacin, which works very well indeed. I don’t get problems very often; either because my guts are more accustomed to the bugs or because hygiene has improved. Last time I was in Dubai though, I was in a shopping mall when I got that awful liquid gurgling feeling deep in my guts and knew I had a minute to get to a bog. Got sorted then walked straight into a pharmacy to ask for Lomotil but the Indian pharmacist told me they had sold out and gave me something called Motilium, saying it would resolve the problem. Took one and within ten minutes was running for the bog, then again and again and again until my poor ricker was so sore I had to resort to using the hose pipe. After an hour of this it stopped and I felt OK to go back to my hotel where I Googled Motilium: turned out it’s a drug that causes rapid emptying of the bowel for use in cases of nausea or before operations. I bet that Indian pharmacist giggled about it all evening.

Not quite. On antibiotics for a tooth abscess. Work that day involved several visits to clients’ sites in the car. I took a precautionary visit before getting in the car but had rumblings in way to first client – a family run B&B/tea shop. Elderly couple were very friendly and treated me like a lost son. Clearly very house proud. The pressure built. I asked for directions for bathroom and used their downstairs loo, just off the landing. Aaah relief. I proceeded to clean up with loo brush. Flushed and handle/mechanism of loo snapped. Awful stinky french onion soup with the type of croutons no one wants and no way of getting rid.

Washed hands, opened the window and got back to their coffee table to talk work stuff. That stench pervaded every square cm of their house in minutes. Wifey disappears for a considerable period. Meeting lasts far too long until I eventually make my excuses and leave. They questioned by company’s bill shortly afterwards but never claimed loss of earnings.

Years ago I went through a brief phase of urgently needing to ‘release the hounds’ when out rock-climbing. Must’ve been a nervous thing. Normally I could sense the problem building and make the necessary arrangements, on a couple of occasions having to lower off the route and leg it into the woods.

However, one time myself and the missus were climbing a bolted route in France when the ‘appel d’urgence’ arrived. There was no question of retreat, so rather than despoil all the crucial handholds on the route, I swung off leftwards on the rope into a vegetated gully, undid my leg loops and delivered the coup de grace out of sight.

Or so I thought. Although my long-suffering wife was spared that view, by moving left I was left in full sight of a minibus-full of French schoolkids who had just arrived in the car park for their afternoon climbing lesson.

Not great for entente cordiale…

Laughing my ass off at the phrase “penguin sprint” and the imagined looks of bewilderment following the previous post ^^^. Good work, folks! 🙂

I spent a week off after a working holiday DJing in greece, I came back and recovered from dodgy stomach, to be asked to DJ at an outdoor rave.

I was still suffering a little but thought I was through the worst of it having managed to pass solids for a day and not have to speak to what had become my very good friends hughie and rolf for a few days.

Half way through my set i got a gurgling sensation you all know the one, I precariously passed wind, but it just got worse. I soon retreated to the safety of tic infested ferns and let rip, I sacrificed a sock and headed back, as i stood up from my squat I noticed a couple staring at me just 5 meters away looking horrified. Needless to say i retreated back to the dj booth put on my head phones and ignored anyone till i could head home.

Excellent stuff, I have numerous running related poo stories but none that can compete in the humour stakes like those^^^^^^^

I sacrificed a sock and headed back, as i stood up from my squat I noticed a couple staring at me just 5 meters away looking horrified.

Dude, if you could do it into a sock, that wasn’t horror – that was awe.

Pondo I assure you the sock was used as aftermath clear up