Away ground 'TOILET' comedy gold stories...

Didsbury Dave said:
Citycitytid said:
Ah, this were it, absolute cracker that.

On the subject of Fratton park, Dave. Do you have anything else to share on this subject?

My cousin, a mad blue, went for a dump in the away end at Fratton Park, I think it was the year BRadbury scored 2 against us. He's in the navy down there there so I regularly spend the weekend down there when City are there.

He's seen combat at the front line, he's even talked about seeing a man cut in half.

But I swear he looked more traumatised when he came back from that single cubicle than when he got back from Iraq. He will talk about what he saw and did in Iraq when he's had a few beers and I get him on his own.

He's never talked about that fateful day at Fratton Park and I don't want to push him.

Fckin brilliant. Love it. Great story
 
Not football related, but worth sharing...

A couple of years ago I picked up a stomach bug which lasted for a couple of weeks. Eventually, I went to the doctors and he asked me to collect a couple of samples, put them into test tubes and return them to the surgery for analysis.
Anyway, being a bit unhappy about the prospect of getting shit under my fingernails, I hit upon the idea of using those reusable plastic trays you get from the takeaway, then transferring said specimen into the test tube.
No problem on the first day, but the second day I was just tidying up in the bathroom when the missus shouted from downstairs "have you seen my lunchbox?"
 
Here's the story I mentioned earlier about a copper at Old Trafford. It was a few years back now, can't remember the season but it was a match against Coventry City - my brother-in-law works for the GMP and has told this more than a few times.

The story goes that on the day of the match, one young copper from Salford who was assigned to be on duty at the ground arrived at work 'the-morning-after-a-night-on-the-beer-and-curry', no doubt finished off by a tasty vindaloo or phall. He arrived at work next morning plagued with a bad case of the shits but on feeling better during the day, opted to stay and carry out his duty - a decision he no doubt later rued because on the way to the ground in the van the ruby hit back with a vengeance and he arrived at the ground with those familiar gripping stomach spasms and hot sweats. However, neither time nor luck was on his side and the coppers were straight into the pre-matching briefing with the matchday stewards.

The unfortunate plod was forced to sit through a tortuous thirty minute session alongside his sniggering mates and bemused stewards before the briefing finally ended with him not so much as 'touching-cloth' but more so with that awful 'pants-sticking-clammily-to-the-arse' feeling and the 'have-I-or-haven't-I?' question pounding in his head. And, even worse, all that straining to hold on had increased his need to piss to that of the proverbial racehorse.

The briefing over, he tore off at the speed of light in the direction of the nearest bog, urged on by his hugely-unsympathetic colleagues, arriving at the lavatorial facility ... to find a single urinal and a solitary trap - engaged!!

With the situation at crisis-point, he received directions to the nearest "proper" toilet facility, which was out of the front of the stand, briefly along pitchside and into one of the first aid facilities in the adjacent stand - and he hared off at such speed, that was the last his colleagues saw of him...

...the last that day for sure, because one unfortunate copper never made matchday duty. Instead he was returned to his nick after the uncontrollable erruption took place in his standard police-issue grundies, as he was in mid-flight, pitchside in his very own theatre of unforgettable dreams!! Poor plod was despatched back with the soggiest, stinkiest uniform trousers in the history of the Greater Manchester Police - and not just the rear end either!!

Totally true story, that one!
 
LongsightM13 said:
The old Kippax, a second division night game against Hull.
On the way to the ground, I felt a bit ropey and had that horrible 'bubbling' sensation in the guts, but all was well until the second half, when I could feel a geyser of shit building up.
I legged it up the steps, down the tunnel and into the shitter. To my amazement, there was still a bit of bog roll left so I released what must have been a gallon of watery Bisto into the bog, and cleaned up with the last of the paper. I could hear cheering as Imre Varadi had apparently scored to put us one-up.
No sooner had I got back to my spot on the terrace though, when I felt a second wave of trouser tsunami began to force its way up, so had to leg it back up again. Repeated the process but then remembered all the bog roll had gone. Had to use my undercrackers and varadi scored again.
Had to walk home going commando, having missed both goals.

Trouser Tsumami..........F***ing Brilliant
 
I was in the toilets at Charlton once when a bloke became rabid as both cubicles were locked.

Rather than wait his turn, he simply roared, ran up to the doors, ripped the front off with his bare hands and left the poor lad inside looking frightened for his life, underpants round his ankles, before the stewards nabbed the rabid bloke; shit still up his alley!:)
 
It says something about me that I lurk on here without posting for hours each day yet a wonderful thread like this gets me typing away! Anyway...my mate generally has a slack arse (nerves mainly) before kick off and when I was married regularly used to have a pre-match shit at my house rather than his own (became a long running joke between me and my ex about his 'habit' and familiar phrase "I'll just go and use your toilet Steve"). However, at the Wembley play-off final his nerves (and bowels) were at straining point after the anticipation and journey to North London 3 hours plus before kick off. No comfy loo, quilted paper and selection of magazines were available on Wembley Way, oh no! Instead, rather an appalling and piss stained pre-war bog awaited him so we set off to look for the nearest McDonalds while he kept it in. It's known famously as asking for 'A McShit with Lies' and he has never had another shit at a ground before or since. The urinals at York in '99 was a brick wall btw.
 
When I was in my mid teens I smoked and used to a have a crap and a cig in the bogs in the Main Stand at Maine Road to hide it from my old fella. Talking about 1990ish here, although I no longer smoke.

Been in many filthy away end toilets but my most bizzare was at Coventry's old Highfield Road ground. I was in with the Cov fans on the old Sky Blue Terrace and City were getting beat and I went for a piss. Whilst I was tipping out the afternoons Stones Bitter City scored (think it was Clive Allen). Bare in mind I had no colours on and had pretty much been keeping my head down for a change but as I walked out the bogs and turned left onto the stand a copper looked at me and said 'Your teams just scored and you've missed it'

I've never forgot that to this day and always wondered how he knew I was a City fan?
 
A sort of on topic tale of piss desperation and amazing agility.......
A number of years ago a good mate of mine who followed Altrincham FC around even though he lived in London had been to an away game in Weymouth and on the piss all day. On the train back to The Smoke he was in need of a piss but having tried the toilet at the end of the corridor (it was one of the old style carriages with a corridor the length of one side and compartments off the corridor) and finding it locked and the door through to the next carriage locked or not opening, returned to his compartment in increasing desperation. Being the only person in the compartment he decided the only solution was to climb up the back of the seats half onto the luggage rack and open the sliding section at the top of the window and piss out of it using one hand while clinging on at some unfeasible angle with the other all the time travelling with a rackety clack at a rate of knots over points etc. His feeling of relief and triumph was marred half way through by the compartment door being flung open with a cry of 'Tickets please' by one of British Rail's finest. Cue hilarity and embarrassment in equal measures.
 
bluevengence said:
bluejase said:
So, M27 has golden showered his mum, what next BM?!?PMSL.


Just aswell because by the sounds of it she was just about to give him a blowjob

HAHAH glad it wasnt just me that thought that when I read the story!
 
Very funny!!!!
LongsightM13 said:
The old Kippax, a second division night game against Hull.
On the way to the ground, I felt a bit ropey and had that horrible 'bubbling' sensation in the guts, but all was well until the second half, when I could feel a geyser of shit building up.
I legged it up the steps, down the tunnel and into the shitter. To my amazement, there was still a bit of bog roll left so I released what must have been a gallon of watery Bisto into the bog, and cleaned up with the last of the paper. I could hear cheering as Imre Varadi had apparently scored to put us one-up.
No sooner had I got back to my spot on the terrace though, when I felt a second wave of trouser tsunami began to force its way up, so had to leg it back up again. Repeated the process but then remembered all the bog roll had gone. Had to use my undercrackers and varadi scored again.
Had to walk home going commando, having missed both goals.
 

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