I was looking for a OT new forum posters thread or W/E to just say a quick hello and introduce myself to my fellow blues when I stumbled upon this thread and intrigued by the title I thought to myself... I'll have a look.... needless to say that was an hour or so ago and I have literally been crying real tears at some of the stories on here, and I too have been cursed with unintentional bowel moverments, and have never spoken of this before as it happens, but when in Rome.....
The first time it happened to me I was probably 14 years old, no shit (excuse the pun) it was Christmas eve of all times and my mum and dad had friends round for drinks and I took it upon myself to get involved in the action, afterall no one was keeping an eye on me really, it was 9/10pm Xmas eve and all the adults were well underway to getting blottowed so I had free reign to walk about scooping up any drinks I wanted without anyone batting an eyelid, after a while of helping myself to strongbow and vodka and the likes and feeling quite pished at this point, I stumble across my dads beloved courvoisier and proceeded to help myself to copious amounts of it mixed with coke, bear in mind my tender age of 14 I had only ever reall drunk white lightning and had little experience with hard spirits, add to the fact I had already drunk vodka and cider on this evening and I quickly found myself pissed to the point that I had found a safe spot on the top of the stairs to put my spinning head down to try to counteract the effects of all the alcohol I had consumed at such an age, I ended up projectile vomiting which was my body's response to try and eject all the hard alcohol I had consumed and I don't really remember much after that. I made it to a bed safe and sound after that :) or so I thought.... I actually only made it to my older brothers bottom bunk and literally passed out, I woke up at about 8am on Christmas day with my head fuzzier than it had ever been before in my life, and the worst hangover, the room stunk of a horrid rancid shit smell, or at least I thought it did from what normal senses I had that were working correctly, and so it transpired that after violently spewing my ring up I had also shat my older brothers bed, it was all over the sheets quilt, my boxers and my legs it was an explosion for want of another word.
Needless to say that even 20 years later just the smell of brandy brings back those memories and I have never ever touched that drink again for fear of shitting myself.