Not pregnant in the end
Fresh out of A-levels, my ex and I went on our first foreign holiday together... camping in rural France. It was a nice campsite, but one with a big metal barrier on reception, so come 10pm at night when Monsieur Patron locked the barrier, if your car was in it stayed in.

My ex had a fairly unhealthy repetoire of food that she would eat, mainly choosing to eat pasta and crisps whilst outside the UK. After a few days of lots of stodgy carbs and not enough hydration, she woke me at about midnight in the tent, clenching her tummy and rolling around in tears. It had been years since my scouts first aid course and I didn't know what appendicitis looked like, but after 20 minutes of this I figured it might be bad. Time to put her in the car and find a hospital perhaps.

It took 20 mins of banging on the site owner's door, followed by 10 minutes of him leaning out the window in his dressing gown waving abuse and swearing at me, before he came down and opned the bloody barrier to get my car out, cursing at me as he did it. Then half an hour's drive to the nearest city to find A&E.

On arrival, in a town-centre hospital, the night-shift doctors sprang up from their very quiet reception desk, produced a trolley, ushered us into a lift... bing... doors opened and we're being admitted to the labour ward. I tried loads in my schoolboy Franglais to say that she wasn't pregnant, but they were busy hooking her up to the monitors and getting the on-call midwife on the phone etc.

After a while of tests, blood tests, trying to get her to remove her trousers etc, they eventually realised she wasn't about to drop a sprog. We then had some amusing miming and sound effect type game going on where the doctor was trying to ask when she had last been to the crapeur.

An hour later, they discharged her with a take-home DIY enema kit and instruction (we think) for me to shove it up her jacksie and squeeze the contents in if she hadn't shat out her week's worth of pasta by daybreak. I was determined to give this kit a go (kinky?) but she wasn't letting me anywhere near, and I think the shear sight of the pre-lubricated 4" nozzle was enough to get the bowels moving. I remember the patient info leaflet in the kit having an English translation that basically said to only use it if you were in the immediate vicinity of a vacant toilet.

Well, she wasn't pregnant, the french campsite owner gave me an angry scowl every time he saw me for the rest of the trip, I didn't get to use the DIY enemea kit, and that was the first and last holiday that we had together ...
(harrypitta friends with the chilli saucerer, Mon 2 Apr 2012, 13:30, 1 reply)

So then what happened?

( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Mon 2 Apr 2012, 13:52, closed)