» Caught!

When I was but small
I and my esteemed family were on holiday in Cornwall somewhere. I was caught short near the pool, but having too awesome a time to go all the way to the toilets back in our room, or the (probably quite nearby) public loos. The writing was on the wall, in a neat typeface 2 foot high:

It was time for a stealth-dump.

This required a combination of cunning, daring, speed, agility, and above all, bog roll. Posessing none of these things, my little self scampered off behind a bush to drop trou, make mess, and get back to the pool, leaving no-one any the wiser to my James Bond-esque poopery. Alas, this was not to be. I quickly discovered a few things about the situation that were less than ideal:

1) The ground was very spiky behind the tree.
2) This caused me to tread very gingerly on the sides of my feet.
3) Once pants were round the ankles, I was basically going to shit on them, as they were directly underneath my arse.
4) It was too late the stop this from ocurring.

I had reached the point of no return, and as such my the best of the situation by pulling my underpants taunt from both sides quickly, in an effort to catapult the offending mud-monkey from twixt my soiled undies. Spiky floor + bad balance + childhood obesity + unexpected bum cigar+ keks-round-legs-catapult-action = staggering in a small circle, whimpering due to foot pain, before tripping over my poo-covered pants and landing in a pile of my own effluence. As well as a lot of spiky things.

Realising that the situation would require some aid, and being of sound enougn mind to realise that explaining this one to my parents was pretty much guaranteed to result in some kind of kicking, I had an inspired moment. I would wipe myself down with some leaves, and stroll back, to cool off in the refreshing pool. 'A temporary setback only...' thought I- '...I AM James Bond'.

Once again though, fate conspired against me, as if an army of invisible Blofelds and Jawses and that bloke with the hatses AND that wierd midget fella, decided 'No Mr Bond, we expect you to be imminently embarrassed and shamed beyond measure'. The wiping down went badly, due to my inspired choice of stinging nettles, so with a very sore bottom, still shit-streaked all down my back and legs, with knckered feet and my hat a distant memory, I was found by a kindly stranger, shaking in a ball on the floor, a wild-eyed feral child smearing in excreta, murmuring something about living twice.

To this day, I remember my reaction was to pull a remarkably shocked face, and cover my nipple areas with my hands. Please bear in mind that I was naked from the waist down only, and thus the nipple coverage must have been some sort of gut reaction (pardon the pun). I was eventually presented to my concerned parents, and laughing sibling/cousins/assorted other JOKERS, as my own tiny golgothon.
(Tue 8th Jun 2010, 16:40, More)

» Home Science

About 8 years ago
Some friends and I decided to microwave a piece of human excrement. Though it was but for a fleeting few seconds, the results were clear, and as follows:

1. The excrement's temperature was (I presume) marginally increased.
2. The smell was diabolical.

Notes:

Said excrement was a nugget of 'Guinness black', about the size of a bourbon biscuit. I am unaware if this was an external factor.

The all-pervading smell was still there months later.

It didn't smell of excrement, so much as what I would imagine a diseased soul would smell of. It's odour could easily have convinced a near suicidal person that yes, indeed, it really is all a load of bollocks.

If you are tempted to follow suit, ensure (as I did) that the microwave and dwelling to be used are not one's own. Then, don't.

Science is not a strong point, though I do look rather fetching in a white coat.
(Fri 10th Aug 2012, 18:14, More)

» Schadenfreude

A while ago, when I was on a bus...
I saw a young gentleman swinging with gay, reckless abandon on a gate outside the Costume Museum, Wilmslow Road in Manchester. His beaming visage a picture of the mighty invincibility that only comes from the knowledge that you, a 10 yr-old boy, are not only fucking nails, but also WAAAAA-AAAAY COOL.

He fell mid-swing, his schoolbag linking onto the gate so that not only did he fall headfirst onto the ground, smacking face-first into the dirt, he continued to swing across at the same time, scraping said face againt the floor. When he looked up, his once proud pomp was a mess of gravel, tears and snot, and his bag was wrapped round his head like a shiny Nike turban full of pencils. He was utter vanquished, safe now in the knowledge that he would die, stinking and alone, cursing the very day he mounted that gate.

Thankfully the bus was full of schoolchildren at the time, so my shrieking 'AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHYADICK'EAD!' with accompanying window-banging was pretty much par for the course. I was 24.
(Thu 17th Dec 2009, 15:35, More)

» Tramps

Tramp Rape?
There is an army of tramps that hang around near my flat (Whats the collective noun for tramps? A passle? A troupe?) And I have seen more tramp sex than I ever thought possible. This has included:

Two man tramps in a phone box, one recieving a blow job.

Two man tramps in a phone box, one receiving.

Two man tramps next to a phone box, wanking over two tramps in a phone box having a good bum

A man tramp and a lady tramp up against the wall of my flat (I heard this more than saw it, they actually seemed embarrassed by their discovery.This is in stark contrast to the man-tramp-on-man-tramp action, it seems they are out and proud).

I should mention that these have all been during daylight hours, and there is at least one school quite nearby. I don't think any of it beats this text from my mate though:

"I've just found two tramps shagging in the bins behind subway"
(Thu 2nd Jul 2009, 17:07, More)

» Flirting

Not really me flirting...
But I used to work with a lass who was either very friendly, mental, or wanted a portion of fresh Cowson. Thinking back actually, irrepsective of her friendliness or portion desire, she was clearly a fully-functioning brain and face moron.

She was always asking me how to do things, what to say etc, and being the frankly-one-step-below-Jesus kind of nice guy I am* I was always happy to help. Her cheery waves of thank-yous and beaming grins gradually changed to lingering hand contact, shoulder rubbing and eager 'please look me in the yes so we can have one of those Hollywood style moments like in that film yeah' glances.

I should mention at this point that this young lady, bless her, looked rather like a turnip in the face. A turnip with Jug ears. And she had a goatee beard. A blonde one, but a beard nonetheless. She later left to resume her previous career as an air hostess, one wonders what kind of budget the airline caters for when you get on a plane and the 'glamourous trolley dolly' looks like she was made from leftover bits of grade A mingertron.

IIt got a bit much when she said to me one day 'Oh Gertcha, you're so nice I could kiss you'. It was a gut-style reaction, I didn't mean to hurt her feelings, but I had to stop dead, as if she had just informed me that she had killed my father and turned his cock into a plasticated bum-lance with which to violate those close to me, fix her dead in her wonky eye, and with a resigned sigh, intone:

'No. You fucking couldn't. I would physically restrain you, and possibly call the police. NO.'

Like I said, I'm basically Jesus.

*May be total bollocks.
(Wed 24th Feb 2010, 13:53, More)