'tis the season to be jolly - and covered in one's own poo
Boxing Day 1995 and I was sharing a house with two mates. Waking up at about 10am with a mild hangover my two housemates were already in the living room, cracking open a bottle of whisky. They offered me one to take the edge off, but I politely declined saying "No way, I don't wanna get hammered, we've got the house party tonight"

The house party was significant because it was sure to be thronged with posh ex-university totty. I was fresh from a Computer Studies course so of course I'd almost forgotten what women looked like. As a host and bedroom-owner I had a better than usual hope of some xmas bouncy-bouncy.

So. Intending to take it easy I trundled off to the local for a few beers and a day of meeting friends and family. It was a great day, but my memories for some reason get fuzzier as the day goes on. Fast forward about twelve hours and fifteen or so pints later I was in a right state, Piecing together the events the next day this is what happened next.

Staggering into the house blind drunk I fell, face first like a felled tree. I was unconscious in the middle of the packed living room, only coming to several hours later. They didn't realise what a state I was actually in, so stuck me in the corner of the room on a sofa.
Luckily when I came to there were only a few people left, but that anyone had to see what I did next - this is the bit that bothers me to this day. After dragging myself to my feet I suffered a massive bowel eruption - it was shit or bust time.

Rather than staggering to the bog however, I walked to one of the bay windows, in full view of the street, and had a monster blowout- covering the carpet, my lower clothing and myself in gooey shit while my housemate watched in horror too dumbstruck to do anything. Pulling my filth encrusted undercrackers and trousers up I went to the second bay window and did an 'encore' of the previously mentioned bum blast. I then set about removing my clothes, wiping myself down with them and throwing the soiled clothing onto the sofa. Uttering my only recognisable words of the evening (a satisfied 'I won't be needing them any more') I trundled off to bed. The horror of what I had done, the reactions of my housemates (more sorrow than anger), and the sheer mess I made haunt me to this day.

Length? It stank for days - We had to leave the windows open in the middle of winter, just so we could breathe)
(HarvsPenzance was tired and confused at, Sat 26 Mar 2011, 23:19, 7 replies)

A good shit is better than sex anyway, so you came out a winner if you're a glass half full type of guy.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Sun 27 Mar 2011, 3:15, closed)

Shitting better than sex?
Wow, if only there were a way of combining the two. Over to you, German b3tans...
(HarvsPenzance was tired and confused at, Sun 27 Mar 2011, 21:17, closed)

I hear it's called
'Das Blumpkin'.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Sun 27 Mar 2011, 22:11, closed)

Super!
It's the,'I won't be needing them anymore' that makes it.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Sun 27 Mar 2011, 7:36, closed)

^this

( Wet-chinned bag shanker Cannot parse Wogan, Sun 27 Mar 2011, 8:40, closed)

Excellent work there.
A++++ top dirty protester would use again.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Sun 27 Mar 2011, 11:44, closed)

Clickety Click!

(CuntyBumface was last caught masturbating by granny on, Sun 27 Mar 2011, 12:56, closed)