Lightning strikes twice.
About two and a half years ago I was the proud owner of a classic Misfits shirt - the one with the big skull on. I'd cut the sleeves off perfectly, it had worn in nicely. It was a favourite.

On my 26th birthday I got more drunk than I have ever been. I was very drunk by the time people ordered me a row of shots. I was hammered. I then attempted to cycle home.

I was woken up by the police, somehow having turned into a man from the 40s.

"Do you know where you are?"

"I'm just North of London's fashionable Soho"

"You're sullying our Holborn police station"

"Of all the places to sully!"

They were quite agreeable and I saw one of them make a physical effort to not say "On your bike".

I woke up further down the road to the sight of someone trying to steal my bike. "I was just seeing if you were awake," he said. How neighbourly.

It was at this point that I realised I needed a shit more than I have ever needed a shit in my life. The pressure was immense, and panic set in. It was 5 in the morning, nowhere was open and I was still a long way from home.

I nipped down an alley and behind a wall, pulled down my trousers, crouched down and let loose a torrent of hot liquid effluent. Standing up, relieved, I noticed it has squarely hit the back of my Misfits shirt as I crouched. Covered in liquid shit. Ruined.

A few weeks later I replace said Misfits shirt. Cut off the sleeves carefully, wear it every day to break it in.

That Summer I'm doing stand-up at the Download festival. It's boiling hot and I've tucked my Misfits shirt into the waistband of my trousers. I go for a shit in a portaloo. I stand up. My Misfits shirt has fallen into the bowl and I have shit on it.

I didn't get a third.
(metalwarlord, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 15:41, 1 reply)

Mis-shits?
Sorry.
( e.m.m.y. foxtrot uniform charlie kilo india tango, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 16:27, closed)