The drains...
I possess, among certain circles, a reputation for gastrointestinal fortitude. I have been known to clear rooms, and once woke up members (plural) of my family, through a STRUCTURAL WALL of the house, merely with the noise of my ano-rectal ministrations. One event, however, lives proud in my memory, and stands out as a truly special example of the genre.

We had gone, as a group of middle-class-nerdy-orchestra-kids, to the Royal Albert Hall. It was summer, and the proms were on, but because we were *cough* cool *cough* middle-class-nerdy-orchestra-kids, we had gone to the 'late' prom. A jazz trumpeter called Wynton Marsalis was playing. We had heard he was good, and so we were going to be cool-jazz-kids for the evening. We queued outside, and entered the plush and hallowed concert hall.

Those of you who have been to or seen the Albert hall during Proms season will know that the whole central arena is standing room. You end up fairly packed in, and we found a place somewhere near the middle, to the right of the stage. Once standing, some... issues... began to arise. There was a dark, mysterious odour. A sharp, acidic, almost tangy scent. It smelt a little like something had died. It got worse. The group I was with turned to me with a resigned disgust.

I knew I had done a bad. I had made a rather impressive stinky, and now we were all standing in it, packed in by other concert-goers. I decided that in my new guise as cool-jazz-kid, that I did not want to take the blame for this. I decided to produce a very clever lie.

"Bugger off, that's not me! And you KNOW I like to take credit for them!"

They'd never fall for it. It is true that I did/do take credit where it is due, but there was no way they would be fooled. They weren't fooled. But, clinging to the last vestiges of my dignity and self-respect, I kept up protesting my innocence.

More stench arrived. In waves. Each one more ripe, more fruity and pungent, more soul-destroying than before. It felt, as they were escaping, like they were somewhere in a hinter-land between gas and liquid, so dense and cloying were these airborne-toxic-events.

After about 30 minutes of the sort of chemical onslaught that even hardened war-criminals would refuse to inflict, there was a round of sheepish apology from my friends.

"Actually mate, there's no way that could be you. This is just inhuman. It must be the drains!"

For the full concert, my bowels continued to unleash their vile and venomous fury. Other patrons began complaining to the ushers ("It simply isn't right that a venue such as this has inadequate drainage!"), in endlessly polite hushed whispers, so as not to disturb the concert audibly as well as nasally. People from yards away, the other side of the auditorium, were clearly also disturbed. The ushers were putting in near-frantic calls on their walkie-talkies to get someone,(anyone!) from maintenance to come and try and sort out the problem. How the band managed to keep playing is a mystery and a testament to their professionalism.

The gig... Okay the *concert* (really am still a bit too middle class) finished, and we left the venue. I felt elated. Not only was I many cubic feet of shit-smelling-buttockular-foulness lighter, but I had pulled off the crime of the century. I had dropped a Colo-rectal Hiroshima, and escaped blameless, with only my assaulted nostrils and slight sense of repressed shame as a lasting reminder. I was off scot-free.

That is, until the drains... sort of... followed us onto the tube. I will never forget that look of loathing, mixed with quiet awe.

Good concert, though.
(Serotonicity was a naughty boy on..., Sat 18 Jan 2014, 11:22, 6 replies)

Well told mon brave!
You get a click for 'shit-smelling-buttockular-foulness' and 'Colo-rectal Hiroshima'.
Sheer poetry.
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Sat 18 Jan 2014, 12:07, closed)

Nicely done!
I too have used this excuse.... www.b3ta.com/questions/horriblethings/post1242362
(RJWEcology is just sharpening his axe on, Sat 18 Jan 2014, 12:51, closed)

So your story is
"Even as a teenager, potty training and minimal politeness were still works-in-progress for me", yeah?
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Sat 18 Jan 2014, 21:06, closed)

Pooflake
Would have been proud of this.
(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Mon 20 Jan 2014, 11:20, closed)

I was impressed...

And have clicked accordingly.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Tue 21 Jan 2014, 10:20, closed)

earns a click and a chuckle from me

(andythepieman Is surfing the waves of indifference on, Tue 21 Jan 2014, 11:26, closed)