toilet-etiquette-again-your-thoughts

rant-smartphones-causing-congestion-in-the-gents

You seem to be scatologically obsessed…bet you’ve got a big ol’ stash of German pr0n.

in the distant past, before commuting by bike was popular and there were no facilities for showering, changing etc i used to get changed in a disabled toilet. One day, i saw a red plastic ball hanging off a long piece of string. “what’s this?” i thought. It’s surely a light switch or something. I pulled it. Nothing happened. Hmmm, thats a bit pointless. 5 minutes later, when i slid the door open to leave for the day i was faced by about 7 people who had ran go where the alarm was going off.

I knew it was an STW fetish, but that it’s the same OP each time… 😯

One of the exhibition stand builders I work with has an aversion to the toilets in exhibition halls, on one occasion he saved it up for when he got back to his hotel but unfortunately the lift broke down with him in it resulting in a messy accident.

On another occasion while working on an exhibition at The Palais de Congress in Paris all the water systems failed meaning none of the toilets would flush. I will never forget walking into one trap to see that the mountain of shit had cleared the rim by some distance. I can’t imagine just how desperate the last deficator must have been to hover above a pile of others shit and add to the pile. Luckily I knew a shortcut into the hotel next door.

I hate using public/work toilets. At work I always use the same trap. I can’t stand it when someone goes in the one next to me. Especially when there’s 3 or 4 others free.

My beloved wife managed to block a motel toilet on a fly drive holiday in the US. The flush on the pan was an odd one where it swilled the occupant with a gentle rinse, and then seemed to open some sort of valve so all the contents were sucked into the abyss. Except in this case, where the brown trout swimming in the bowl seemed content to lay sideways across the opening preventing access to the log flume like some overzealous lifeguard at a Waterpark.

The gentle rinse was never enough to move it; each subsequent suck seemed to wedge it against the exit even more.

Options seemed to be limited. We didn’t even have a spoon in the pack of complimentary coffee condiments, just a pointless flimsy straw which was no good for cutting, or pushing, but excellent at taking tiny core samples of the sedimentary layers (point of note – can you estimate prior meals / transition time by taking lateral samples in this way? Or do you judge with a longitudinal section? I wonder if a career in forensic scatolgy awaits?)

Eventually, by balancing ‘man on a wire’ style on the edge of the bath, and emptying the whole contents of a waste paper bin of water into the pan from close on ceiling height, the decomposing deviant was co-erced into its final journey.

The things we do for love…….

This thread has cheered me up no end, not laughed so much in ages 😀

All this talk has set me off, will report back on seat temp shortly…

theotherjonv – Member

That’s a sh!t story. A really great sh!t story!!

BTW, had to beat a retreat as the one and only facility was in use…simmering still…

My old house mate had to take a carving knife to one of his deposits, he tried buckets of water to assists it departure to no avail. Eventually he had to operate. I made sure the knife was disposed of as well. It was like Schwarzeneggers arm. A thing of grotesque beauty 😆

Me and my mates at uni used to talk about the mythical ‘red alert’, the poo that smelt so bad you’d hurl from the stench of it.
I achieved this feat after a very boosy night including port, sambucca, tequila and pheasant curry. Not only did it set me off when i was doing it, the smell of it was so bad my buddy followed up by walking into the toilet five minutes later and immediately chucking his guts up into the sink when the solid block of stink hit him. Good times, fond memories

We had a really attractive girl start working for us a couple of years back, which caused consternation amongst the first floor toilet polluters in the office. They were quick to start blaming one another for the intensity of the rancid stench that permeates the corridor just after trap time.

No-one wanted to cause her perfect little nose to wrinkle in disgust as she sashayed her way past the gentleman’s rest rooms and into the offices, but still the first floor bumstink has continued with it’s ferocity unabated.

Last week, the culprit was unmasked. It was the really attractive girl with the perfect little nose…

@avdave2 – also work in the exhibitions industry, sounds like most stand builders I’ve ever met.

Me and my mates at uni …….achieved this feat after a very boosy night including port, sambucca, tequila and pheasant curry[/u]

What University were you at?

I always chuckle at the tale of a guy who worked for my mate’s father in law. Finding himself in a situation where the was no alternative solution, he had to ditch his works van at the side of the road and jump over a wall, in the pitch dark.

Wriggling down his overalls in record time, he delivered his dirty cargo, to great relief. As he returned to the van, he became aware of an increasingly warm and damp feeling over his upper back, and a strong smell of faeces that wasn’t lessening, despite him apparently getting further away from where they lay. In his haste, he had shat everything into the shoulder area of his overalls.

Why yes old chap, how did you guess 😉

In reality it was cooked by my west-country inbred semi-retarded farmer buddy who thought it was a good idea to cook a couple of pheasants he’d run over the day before (it wasn’t)

Edit: And I was drunk enough and stupid enough to eat it

Our office is small, with a toilet on the 2nd floor above the open plan office space below. Being of victorian construction it has a unique way of resonating sound, and if it’s quiet you can even hear the tear of toilet roll from the room above when sat at your desk.

Needless to say, any sort of number 2 activity is a serious no no, unless one finds oneself in a desperate situation.

I have in extreme cases waited until lunchtime, taken to the M1 which is close by and sped to the nearest services to negotitate the release of my hostages.

i had to kick the missus out of the bathroom this morning because my butt thought is was johnny cash singing about rings of fire!!
felt good setting off an almighty depth charge down the bog!!

his haste, he had shat everything into the shoulder area of his overalls

I heard the same tale in an army context, where the squaddie turned round to examine his afternoon’s work only to find nothing in the hole he’d lovingly dug for it. Mystified, but keen to get back to the day job lying in a ditch and being shot at, etc., he did up the zip on his NBC coverall and flipped the hood up. Whereupon…….

On holiday in Gosport a couple of years ago Mrs goose and myself needed a comfort break.
I needed to “drop the kids off at the pool” but thought Mrs goose needed to tinkle.
Only toilet near was public unisex triple stall. Problem was it was 20p, not a lot but only one 20p piece between us…
So, we both went in, being a gentleman , let Mrs goose “tinkle” first. BIG mistake. She left an elephants leg in the pan. No way it would move.
I couldn’t wait any longer so we where left with the back legs of an elephant, bog diving.
Nothing to shift it with, not even a pen for the vain attempt of log chopping.
Opened door to leave, Mrs goose steps out, bloke bumps into me as I leave/he tries to enter, strange looks, he closes door and I just shout “RUN”.
We both end up round nearest corner crying with laughter like school kids.
Didnt hear of a shipping hazard, maybe bloke sto(o)le them.

You’ve just potentially doubled Gosport’s tourist attractions for 2013. Good job.
*edit* HOLD ON, nobody GOES to Gosport on holiday. EVER.

Was staying at Eastney, lived in Gosport for a few years, so went for visit.
Did leave comment of what the place was like

Warm?
You need to try a portapotty in the desert, where the contractors who clean it aren’t caring very much.
Dropping the kids off at the pool is a new sport then. It is effectively holding your breath and poo-ing in the smallest and most nasty sauna in the world. It does get your potty admin sorted, otherwise you need to breathe and that way is death.

You lot are all flash Harrys boasting about your office or factory toilets.

Spare a thought for us field based guys who are toilet-less.
Its a good job the back of my van is big enough to house a full grown man in the “Franz Klammer” pose whilst shitting into a Asda carrierbag.

Now fixed bulkhead or not driving round with the stench of a freshly laid log sans water to dull the odour nips a bit,its a good deterent for hitchhikers though.

You need to try a portapotty in the desert, where the contractors who clean it aren’t caring very much.
Dropping the kids off at the pool is a new sport then. It is effectively holding your breath and poo-ing in the smallest and most nasty sauna in the world. It does get your potty admin sorted, otherwise you need to breathe and that way is death.

During the 90s I did 6 tours of the Glastonbury Festival. Those that were there don’t talk about it.

Still no sign of the Bristol Stool Chart and its page 2 !

And for once, this thread is better without pictures…

Had to use the “Turdis” type portabogs in Kansas in summer. 37 C and they’re not the type with a flap and flush lever to sweep it all away, but just a big hole with a mountain of everyone else’s business below. I swear you could feel the updraft. Made sure to go at about 7am before it got too warm.

Many years ago, at a mx race, a friend decided the bogs were just too rank. Upon finding out another friends van is unlocked, decides plastic bag and back of van is a better option. After doing the business, the next problem is what to do with the evidence….. Cue, pulling back the ply lining, hiding evidence, pushing ply back into place.
I travelled in a different van.

I had visions of fatigued firefighters shovelling concrete onto it for maximum 30 second stints a la Chernobyl.

Christ nearly wet myself there! 😀

My ‘friend’ Dave decided the portaloos at Glastonbury 95 were too unpleasant for him to use, so he shat in a carrier bag, in the two man tent that was home to three of us, whilst I was asleep inside.

Apparently he nearly fell backwards into it, trying to stifle laughter, when he noticed that I was sniffing the air in my sleep.

The soiled bag was later disposed of, under the flysheet of someone else’s tent. Can’t say I condoned that action.

A friend stumbling home late one night was caught short and dropped off his load in a skip. Used some rough paper as bog roll. Woke up in terrible pain downstairs. Paper was the remains of a cement bag. He had part cemented cling ons.

Hmmmmmm….portaloos – can anything measure up to the ones used on the early Polaris Challenges, c1000 riders and about a dozen of the non flushing blue boxes. Seem to recall one race a bank of them were toppled by the wind. Always preferred to wander off into the trees in the morning.

Deary me, this thread’s getting as good as the Pixolax Thread!

During the 90s I did 6 tours of the Glastonbury Festival. Those that were there don’t talk about it.

That’s brought back memories of the bogs at various drag race meetings at Santa Pod Raceway back in the 80’s-90’s, basically pit privies, long trenches with planks with holes in. You always tried to avoid being the one to ‘break the crust’ in the morning…
The last time I was at the Reading Festival, in ’95, there was a row of Porta Potties close to where I’d pitched my tent. That’s handy, I thought. Until I felt the need to go, whereupon the sight of a brown mountain of crap standing above the seat nearly had me throwing up where I stood. 😯
And that was in all of them.
Until the whole row got pushed over!
Good thing I had a bunch of plastic bags in the tent with me… 😕

I struggle with long sentences, but did you consider lifting the seat and sitting on the pot?
I do it all the time, it adds an element of danger to a poop session, and also stops you falling asleep ‘on the job.’

I’m not too bothered by warmth or even the occasional whiff of befoulment but I cannot abide a brushless skidder. Why anyone would think it’s acceptable to leave half the contents of their colon plastered across the back of the lavatory pan in a wanton display of graffiti de merde is beyond any right thinking person. If I made the rules such people would have to do it in the car park and pick it up in a doggy poo bag. Animals.

On earlies we draw straws after the 7am briefing.

Winner gets the upstairs bog next to the Inspector’s office (before he starts).

Second gets the regular downstairs bog.

Loser has to use the hepatitis bog in the cell block.

The probationer has to have a crap at home in his own time.

On an MTB trip years ago, we over-nighted at a gite in a very primative village, high up in the Atlas mountains in Morocco. Not only were the 3 abominably smelly stalls furnished with rough French style holes in the ground, they were also without electricity or water and pitch dark and there were chickens wondering in and out.

I had a quick scout around for an alternative location but we were in the middle of a village and, as you know, when you are on an urgent recce mission of that sort, people can tell…the locals see right through your scouting and pained expression and give you that “not around here you don’t, mate!” look…

So..the stalls of doom it is…small maglite braced between the teeth (don’t let anything touch the floor for God’s sake!)..the shorts come down and one adopts the classic “Franz Klammer” but!….the quads are not in a cooperative mood – they’ve been putting out the watts all day in the mountains and now they’re being asked to go beyond the call of duty for one last burn and with the pulled down lycra cutting off the oxygen, it’s a Zone 5 effort.

The large coffee tin with coat-hanger handle that you filled with water and brought in with you as a “flush” serves as a primative time limiter – it leaks, so if you aren’t pretty fast you aren’t getting a flush (or a hand wash). To compound the issue, anything that touches the floor (a part of your shorts maybe?) is getting soaked from the same leak and god knows what else that lurks out of the torch beam.

Properly character building that was – Going al-fresco behind a rock when wild camping the next night was a joy!

ahhh….the old carrier bag trick….i’m relieved i’m not the only one to have done this then.
reminds of my student days when one of my housemates blocked the bog. landlord wouldnt get off his lazy ass to fix it so we were left without a working toilet for 2 weeks. during the daytime it was fine as we had the pleasure of using the university toilets but in the evening when we were home it was a different matter….after a few days our neighbours had got fed up with us having to “borrow” their toilet so we we would sit there clenching until all 5 of us needed to go…then jump in the car and head into town for the nearest shop/pub/restaurant to use their toilets…then the car conked out!!
i have to admit the bag idea was mine and the others mocked it but soon they were all doing it…evidence craftily disposed of in the neighbours bins
the toilet was finally fixed and although the landlord didnt ask how we managed he thought it was somewhat amusing that we struggled on for 2 weeks…
as revenge for this once we got our deposits back one of the lads decided to drop some steaming logs into a pringles tube…he then placed a few pringles on top and put the lid on and left it in the kitchen for the landlord….

It was like Schwarzeneggers arm. A thing of grotesque beauty

I just blurted coffee all over my screen, then nearly choked there!! Genius!!! 😆

My (thankfully) only experience of a “too hot” toilet…
I was at world superbikes and the queue for the ladies toilets was about 1/2 mile long whereas only 3 guys were waiting for the mens.
Me and another lass thought sod that queue we’ll use the mens stalls. She went in one and I in the other …. only to discover that someone before me had laid such an enormous poo that it was poking 3 inches above the toilet seat. The damned thing must have been a foot long. I beat a hasty retreat before it launched itself out of the bowl at me….