When was the last time you soiled yourself?

Last time, I was in Nepal, in winter (-10C), wearing thermal bottoms and a down jacket fastened to it. Big bloody winter trekking boots with , heading downhill towards the town of Namche Bazaar, a village of 400 houses (mostly empty), having knocked on a dozen doors, and drifted down a path, I spotted an outhouse perched on wooden poles. I relaxed. I was ready to open the door. Bloody big pad lock. I panicked. I filled my boots. Nightmare.
 
Last year during a charity cricket game I went into bat. Asked for middle and wicket and the second I took my stand I let a small one (that had been baking for a few minutes) go and the rest is without doubt the most I have ever disgraced myself. I put my hand up without facing a single ball and trudged off walking back to the pavilion like a cross between Noel Gallagher and Tina Turner.
 
I have developed an 'issue' with beer. I think I have become allergic to it. If I have a half, I'm fine, no problem. Usually, I can get away with a pint, though there's a moderate risk. Above that, it gives me the shits, no question.

I don't deny I really, really enjoy good beer, so this is a real hardship. Before I figured out the issue, it was a practice for a mate and me to drive out into the country, enjoy a civilised lunch and a couple of pints, and then go for a long walk in England's green and pleasant.

One day, we were about halfway around the circuit when I realised I needed to get back to the pub ASAP as I needed a shit. Then, within minutes, I realised that would not serve. So I told my mate to walk on while I found a convenient bush to semi-hide behind. I dropped my strides and kecks and squatted, and what I can only call projection diarrhoea flew out, forming a large pool some feet behind me. God, the stink! Anyway, I cleaned myself up as best I could with dock leaves, did my best to cover the evidence below some of the local vegetation, and fucked off, strangely conscious of the fact that a whole herd of cows had been staring at me throughout. I also realised that the A59 was a bit nearer than I had appreciated and that a keen-eyed traveller might have spotted what I was doing. (The cover was distinctly limited.)

After that, I started rationing the beer severely. I suspect the allergy, or whatever it is, is now largely eased as my gut has had quite a long rest. But the thought of another experience like that puts me right off drinking too much. You can't repeat that performance in Deansgate, can you?
 
I remember filling my Bill Grundies in a beach bar in Greece and leaving them in the unisex toilet bin & half cleaning myself up. It was in the centre of the bar and the sea breeze wafted the foul stench through the night air, the DJ tunes being occasionally punctuated by girls screaming as they entered the single toilet room and crying as they hurriedly left.
 
Why does the site of one’s own front door lead to a inability to make one’s keys work? You can be holding onto a log all the way home on the tram and all the way walking home off the tram but for that 20 seconds or so it takes to open the front door it is nigh on impossible to keep it within.
 
BrianW said:
I have developed an 'issue' with beer. I think I have become allergic to it. If I have a half, I'm fine, no problem. Usually, I can get away with a pint, though there's a moderate risk. Above that, it gives me the shits, no question.

I don't deny I really, really enjoy good beer, so this is a real hardship. Before I figured out the issue, it was a practice for a mate and me to drive out into the country, enjoy a civilised lunch and a couple of pints, and then go for a long walk in England's green and pleasant.

One day, we were about halfway around the circuit when I realised I needed to get back to the pub ASAP as I needed a shit. Then, within minutes, I realised that would not serve. So I told my mate to walk on while I found a convenient bush to semi-hide behind. I dropped my strides and kecks and squatted, and what I can only call projection diarrhoea flew out, forming a large pool some feet behind me. God, the stink! Anyway, I cleaned myself up as best I could with dock leaves, did my best to cover the evidence below some of the local vegetation, and fucked off, strangely conscious of the fact that a whole herd of cows had been staring at me throughout. I also realised that the A59 was a bit nearer than I had appreciated and that a keen-eyed traveller might have spotted what I was doing. (The cover was distinctly limited.)

After that, I started rationing the beer severely. I suspect the allergy, or whatever it is, is now largely eased as my gut has had quite a long rest. But the thought of another experience like that puts me right off drinking too much. You can't repeat that performance in Deansgate, can you?
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sounds more like a gastro-bug or infection?
 
BrianW said:
I have developed an 'issue' with beer. I think I have become allergic to it. If I have a half, I'm fine, no problem. Usually, I can get away with a pint, though there's a moderate risk. Above that, it gives me the shits, no question.

I don't deny I really, really enjoy good beer, so this is a real hardship. Before I figured out the issue, it was a practice for a mate and me to drive out into the country, enjoy a civilised lunch and a couple of pints, and then go for a long walk in England's green and pleasant.

One day, we were about halfway around the circuit when I realised I needed to get back to the pub ASAP as I needed a shit. Then, within minutes, I realised that would not serve. So I told my mate to walk on while I found a convenient bush to semi-hide behind. I dropped my strides and kecks and squatted, and what I can only call projection diarrhoea flew out, forming a large pool some feet behind me. God, the stink! Anyway, I cleaned myself up as best I could with dock leaves, did my best to cover the evidence below some of the local vegetation, and fucked off, strangely conscious of the fact that a whole herd of cows had been staring at me throughout. I also realised that the A59 was a bit nearer than I had appreciated and that a keen-eyed traveller might have spotted what I was doing. (The cover was distinctly limited.)

After that, I started rationing the beer severely. I suspect the allergy, or whatever it is, is now largely eased as my gut has had quite a long rest. But the thought of another experience like that puts me right off drinking too much. You can't repeat that performance in Deansgate, can you?
Click to expand...
I always carry a couple of spare Kleenex if I go ouy. Much better than dock leaves.
 
Not the last time, but the first time
1979, 16 years old, get invited to a friends cousins 21st at OT cricket ground
After about 2 hrs, my mates bored with family get together, so suggest we go into town
Head into Cellar vie, just off Deansgate, we get drInking Hungarian Bulls blood.
Blur
Wake up Sunday morning, somethings not right
Sheets stuck to my back and legs
On sticking my head under for further investigation, I’m met with the worst thing I’ve ever smelt in my 17 years
Squishy shit covered me up to shoulder blades
Luckily, Mum was at the hospital to visit her sister, so I could clean myself up and dispose of the sheets.
This part of my story is where the shame and guilt kicks in
I folded the shit covered sheets into nice little squares (sans shit) went over to Stretford Sports centre, and deposited them in the donations bin
I’ve often thought of those poor volunteers unfolding them sheets
Youth, eh!!
 
Last august in greece, skiathos, i went for a walk to the next little village. About a 20 minute walk. Got about half way and got proper stomach gripes , sweating and went shivvery. Started getting a wriggle on but knew i wasnt going to make it so had to run behind a bush. Pulled my shorts down and it fired in all directions. The relief was amazing. Never been so close to full on shitting my kecks.
The relief turned to panic when i realised i had nowt to wipe with , stumbled about behind the bush and found an old disposable coffee cup and scraped it around my hoop

Had another 10 min walk in 100 degrees, never itched so much in my life.
Was a lovely feeling dipping my arse into the aegean sea
 
Bluesince1979 said:
Last august in greece, skiathos, i went for a walk to the next little village. About a 20 minute walk. Got about half way and got proper stomach gripes , sweating and went shivvery. Started getting a wriggle on but knew i wasnt going to make it so had to run behind a bush. Pulled my shorts down and it fired in all directions. The relief was amazing. Never been so close to full on shitting my kecks.
The relief turned to panic when i realised i had nowt to wipe with , stumbled about behind the bush and found an old disposable coffee cup and scraped it around my hoop

Had another 10 min walk in 100 degrees, never itched so much in my life.
Was a lovely feeling dipping my arse into the aegean sea
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I know that initial feeling when it's a matter of time and you have to assess options.

Some years back I was on a run when the shit shivers came on strong. I was in the woods close to the Port Wood Tesco, the path along the river. I had to decide from 2 options. Shit in a bush or head to Tesco. I thought I could make it there but then what if the toilet was out of order. I decided to go for it and resolved that if I couldn't get in the toilet I would just find a quiet corner of the carpark.

Upon entering the store the contractions were full strength and I was literally clenching my arse as hard as I could. Shuffling along to the toilet thinking if it's OOO I'm not going to make it back out. Luckily it was open and the second I began to lower myself down my anus exploded with brown liquid and noxious gas.
 
I've never soiled myself except once.

25 years ago or so I was driving in Chicago in a light-to-moderate snow storm. But over time the storm got worse and worse. I couldn't see much but I could follow the heavy traffic in front of me.

Suddenly though - the car right in front of me abruptly made a turn to the left. And once that happened I could see a car - not moving - in my lane.

I quickly looked to my left but there was another car there.

So I stomped on the breaks.

But the road was very icy. And although my breaks were active - my car skidded forward without slowing down at all. I was so scared that I shit myself.
===
Bam! I hit the car at speed - totaling both my car and the stalled car.

The crash carried me and the stalled car off the road into a ditch.

I waited and waited - freezing my ass off in the falling snow. Waiting and waiting for the police to arrive. They never did.

So I penned a note giving my name and address and left it on the windshield of the car I hit - luckily my car was still able to drive and I made my way home.

Much later the police arrived at my door. They were very belligerent. Accusing me of felony hit-and-run and other bullshit. Eventually they ticketed me for a lessor offense and left.

Later still - I heard back from the owner of the car I hit. They told me that they had immediately notified the police that their car was immobile in the far right lane of the highway and that they really wanted police to take action to prevent an accident.
===
In retrospect - I ought to have sued the Chicago Police for failing in their duty to protect the public.
 
BlueMoonAcrossThePond said:
I've never soiled myself except once.

25 years ago or so I was driving in Chicago in a light-to-moderate snow storm. But over time the storm got worse and worse. I couldn't see much but I could follow the heavy traffic in front of me.

Suddenly though - the car right in front of me abruptly made a turn to the left. And once that happened I could see a car - not moving - in my lane.

I quickly looked to my left but there was another car there.

So I stomped on the breaks.

But the road was very icy. And although my breaks were active - my car skidded forward without slowing down at all. I was so scared that I shit myself.
===
Bam! I hit the car at speed - totaling both my car and the stalled car.

The crash carried me and the stalled car off the road into a ditch.

I waited and waited - freezing my ass off in the falling snow. Waiting and waiting for the police to arrive. They never did.

So I penned a note giving my name and address and left it on the windshield of the car I hit - luckily my car was still able to drive and I made my way home.

Much later the police arrived at my door. They were very belligerent. Accusing me of felony hit-and-run and other bullshit. Eventually they ticketed me for a lessor offense and left.

Later still - I heard back from the owner of the car I hit. They told me that they had immediately notified the police that their car was immobile in the far right lane of the highway and that they really wanted police to take action to prevent an accident.
===
In retrospect - I ought to have sued the Chicago Police for failing in their duty to protect the public.
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Mate, Chicago PD don't give af. They tell you to get on down the road you'd best do it especially 25 years ago before everyone had a video camera in their pocket. Happy it wasn't worse for you.

And, as an aside, my neighbour is retired Air Force. He claims he "doesn't trust a man who hasn't shit his pants at least once at work. "
 
Amazingly not yesterday.

I'd been to a birthday party on Friday night and stayed over nearby it in Chadderton. I can only think it was the buffet by the way I was letting awful farts out all night in bed.

By 9.30 Saturday I was in full run to the bog/sit down sweat/run to the bog/sweat mode. Decided that driving 90 mins over the motorway home wouldn't be safe for my car so still did the game.

Getting from Ten Acres to Asda was an experience....I could feel between cheeks seepage but, I made it and my arse held together.....to whoever followed me into that bog I'm sorry and also to the two traps I used inside the ground.
 
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