» I hurt my rude bits

Back Fanny
Last November, whilst in my final year of uni I spent a large amount of time sitting down doing my dessertation. Or looking at t'internet pron. Can't remember which, really... Anyhoo, One morning I awoke with a rather sore coxics. I just passed it off as a drunken injury.

The pain got worse over the next couple of days, and a mate recommended I see the doc. During the exam, I was told to drop me keks and bend over the examination bed, whilst the female doc poked around my bumcrack with her gloved hands. "Aaah, Mr Manbearpig, it appears you have a pilonidal sinus". WTF is that?
She explains I have an abcess at the top of my cleft, and it should clear up with the course of antibiotics she prescribes me.
Cue several days of unbearable pain, and increasing sickness as the antibiotics and infection take hold. I couldn't sit, stand, walk or lie down, so I smoked rather a lot in an attempt to numb the pain but that just made me worse.

After about a week, I was leaning forward and trying to put on my socks, when I felt a sharp pain from said abcess. As I put my hand down my crack, I feel a rather large amount of liquid. Upon sniffing, I decide I've shat myself and go to the bathroom only to notice my abcess has burst.

Being someone who has always enjoyed squeezing spotsd, I decide to clear all the gunk out and manage to spray the mirror, toilet and wall with a fine jet of foul-smelling, grey/bloody fluid. I get no better over the next couple of days, and anything that I eat or drink comes straight back up.

The folks are getting a bit worried, and my Pa tells me to head down to London where a friend of his will arrange an immediate appointment to check it out. As soon as his doctor friend sees it, I am whipped into surgery after having a drip hooked up to me. ("Have you eaten anything within the last 6 hours?", "Nope, but it's not for lack of trying. Fook, get me a bowl.... bleeargh!")

Usual surgery/hospital shiteness, but the best bit was when I got home. The dressings had to be changed, and the whole family was gathered round to take a look, as well as the family of one of my dad's climbing friends. Gasps and oohs and aahs, I wanted to know how bad it is. So dear Pa takes a photo, and says "Christ son, I never realised you were such a cnut!"

Here's the pic for you

Click for a massively scary back fanny size

Apologies for length, but I'm sure it'd fit up there

EDIT: The arse is the right way up, the abcess is at the top of my arse crack. BTW, it's puss in there, not any dodgy man-based substances. Just to clarify...
(Thu 20th Jul 2006, 6:24, More)

» The most childish thing you've done as an adult

Home comforts
I have really enjoyed reading all the posts so far - there's a few things that I do already (run up stairs on all fours, laugh at the word "poo" and am obsessed with farts) and a few new ones that I'll be saving for a rainy day.

I have been living in Japan for nigh-on four years now, working as an English teacher. Not just any English teacher, but one based in kindergartens. As the most childish out of my peers, I take immense pleasure in playing on climbing frames, laughing when kids say "poo" or "cock" (unchi and chinpo respectively), playing all the kids games and teaching them the playground games I used to do when I was young. I have yet to have a child fart during a lesson without cracking up, and on the odd occasion I have stepped on a duck myself it's taken a long time to get back in to the swing of things.
I really love the job as each day I get to mentally regress to the same age as my students. The teaching side is great too; I know that all the English my kids understand is down to me. Most of it's down to the kids - they enjoy the lessons and want to learn, I just help them.

Anyway, on to my most childish thing...
I was going home for the first time since coming over to Japan, after a year and a half. I was picked up by my dad from the airport and got on the sake with him on the bus home. We went out for a curry with all the family and I passed out about 10. Woke up in the morning about 5am, and tootled downstairs. Pa was up and about getting ready to leave; "The fridge has been stocked up with beer for you, MBP, so just kick back and enjoy being home!"
Indeed I will... The family all head for school/work, leaving me all alone by about 8am. Beautiful weather, beer and marmite - I'll head in to the garden. Something's not quite right - what's that over there? FCUK ME, A TRAMPOLINE!!!

I spent my first proper day back in Blighty getting drunk (not so childish), eating marmite with a spoon and bouncing up and down on a trampoline. The more beer I drank, the sillier I got on the trampoline - seeing how high I could go, spins and a couple of attempted backflips.

It all ended rather badly though, much like a kid who's eaten too many sweets. Vomit everywhere; my clothes, the trampoline, the rock garden. I tried to hold it in but just managed to spray a mist o' vom (TM) in the surrounding area.
Sheepishly I give up, hose down the garden, trampoline and myself and go lie down in the sunshine with my dog. Trampolines kinda lost their appeal after that one...

MBP, waffling for Britain
(Sun 20th Sep 2009, 11:54, More)

» Cringe!

Caught red handed
A lot of the stories here seem to have links with onanism, which just so happened to be one of my favourite hobbies when I was a teen. In fact I was, until recently, on average, cracking one off every day due to a disturbingly high sex drive or possible addiction. I think it may be the former as my ladyfriend has banned me from masturbating and it hasn't really affected me too much as long as she's letting me get regular poon.

Hang on, that may well be another embarrasing moment just there...

Anyway, on to the real story. Picture a 10 yr old manbearpig on a trip to the Isle of Skye with two of his cousins and his uncle. A couple of nights previous, said cousins thought it would be hilarious to give their little relative some of the free-flowing booze at another family member's 21st birthday party, attended by my vast extended family. Cue MBP getting rather drunk on very little, skipping round the garden singing "I'm a little teapot" in alternating soprano/baritone due to an early puberty, before collapsing in a giggling heap on the lawn. I don't remember this, as I think I blocked it out although it's regaled to me by family members from time to time.

Aaah, puberty, that bastard concoction of hormones, spots and hair. I hit it early, starting sprouting hair at the age of 9. Luckily my loving parents went out and bought books and refused to talk about it, meaning I got to read all about what was happening to me. This is where I learnt about masturbation. I had once called a naughty phone line when I was 7, having seen adverts in the back of a Sunday Sport. At the urging of the woman/recording on the other end, I vigourously rubbed my cock. Through my jeans. In a circular motion. Till I got mild friction burn on my palm. And MaMBP came home, spying me on the phone. Then making me say who I was calling. Then getting the paper which I had hidden under my matress and show her which line I had called. Oh, the shame...

But anyway, I digress. I had since then learnt how to masturbate properly and started enjoying it. So much that it was an almost daily occurence, urged on by reassurances in books that it was perfectly natural to touch yourself. Which brings us back to the trip.

We were staying on a campsite, and had been out fishing, running about, eating fish & chips and watching a swan eat up a massive wad of phlegm that cousin John had hocked up in to the harbour. We had retired back to the tents, and I was sharing with Robbie. All was fine until the morning, where I had woken up bright and early. "Hmm...." thinks I, "perhaps I can get away with a quick shuffle?"
"Robbie.... Robbie.... Are you awake?...." No response! Get in! So I start to play with myself, teasing my cock into an erect state. Sure enough, about a minute later and I'm trying to wank out a bollock, completely oblivious to the very loud rustling of nylon and the shaking of the tent. All of a sudden, "CAUGHT YOU! YOU DIRTY LITTLE BOY!!!!" bursts forth from the apparently-not-sleeping Robbie. "nonononononononononononoooooooo....." says I under my breath, "errrrrrrr..... I was shivering because it's so cold" conveniently forgetting the little beads of sweat running down my forehead towards my ears.
After what seemed like an eternity of pleading and begging, he agreed to not say anything to my uncle or other cousin; the kind generous soul had obviously been in a similar situation and understood the wanker's shame.

So fast forward on to the next night, where Robbie has insisted that it's John's turn to share a tent with MBP. All protocol has been observed, no self-love in the evening and we both succumb to the slumber only achievable in the fresh, salty air of the seaside. And then I wake up early...

"John... John.... Are you awake?" Not wishing to succumb to the previous morning's trap, I give him a little nudge just to make sure. No response - we have the all-clear! Fwapfwapfwapfwapfwapfwapfwapfwapfwap, there's little MBP doing his best impression of a chinese helicopter pilot, only to be interrupted by "OI, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?!? ROBBIE TOLD ME TO KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR THIS! GET YOUR HANDS OUT OF THE SLEEPING BAG NOW!". Much embarrased and shameful pleading later, promises of mars bars and a can of coke later, the bugger promises to not tell a soul.

Later that day we make our way back to Aberdeen, Led Zepplin blasting out from the tape player, cousin Robbie chipping in with the musical poodle scene from The Young Ones and cousin John quoting from the Viz magazine he is reading. I'm sat in the back of the car, trying to make myself as small as possible just in case anything about my morning activities come out. Sure enough, a little later on there is a lull in conversation. I can sense that, in the same way rats and snakes can sense a natural disaster, Something Very Bad is about to happen.

J "Guess what we caught MBP doing in mornings!"
R "He was wanking!!!"
J "We caught him red-handed!

Cue coughing, spluttering and laughing all at the same time from my uncle. He very quickly regained composure and uttered, nay boomingly announced, the words that have forever burnt themselves in to my soul;
"I bet his hand wasn't the only thing that was red!", much to the glee of my sadistic cousins.

Now Volvos may well be big cars, especially the estates, but there's nowhere big enough to hide when you're 10 years old and your wanking japeries have just been announced to the car when you have another two hours left to get back to the safety of your own bedroom.

As additional shame, my cousins have later caught me masturbating to the ladies of the Innovations catalogue and the back pages of Viz, with the grannies-in-bras and other smutty adverts. If you're lucky I might tell you about my night of viagra-based passion where they young lady in question buggered off shortly after I had necked the pill, leaving me with a terminator-esque cock that kept on coming back no matter what I did to it, and only the aforementioned back pages of Viz to aid in dripping the white-hot coconuts from the veiny palm tree of lust.

Length? Try two hours of merciless piss-taking from two teens and an adult who should definitely know better.
(Sat 29th Nov 2008, 4:39, More)

» Puns

What's brown and sticky?
A poocumber!

*edit* Thinking about it, not really a pun. Still, wanted to share with you all...
(Sat 7th Mar 2009, 0:07, More)

» Schadenfreude

Teacher folly
Sudo's post reminded me:

The deputy head at my old school could be a bit of an arse; never really to me as I was one of the rugby lads which granted you immunity, but definitely to a lot of my friends. Overzealous persecution which in some cases amounted to bullying; when you're a kid and it's a teacher that's harassing you, there isn't a huge amount that can be done.
I understand the position that teachers are in, as I'm now one, albeit not in the UK system, but being a prick just for the sake of it is inexcusable.

Imagine the surprise and glee that spread amongst my friends as this made it's way round our various inboxes.

www.timdingle.com/daily-mail-4-2-6.aspx

*edit* added BBC link for pedants
www.timdingle.com/bbc-news-27-4-6.aspx

Kinda puts smoking by the playing fields in to perspective, eh. *Edit* No drugs, second lives, manwhoring - detention for you, Tim, 200 lines "I must not be a sociopathic arsehat"
(Wed 23rd Dec 2009, 3:33, More)