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This is a question Shit Stories: Part Number Two

As a regular service to our readers, we've been re-opening old questions.

Once again, we want to hear your stories of shit, poo and number twos. Go on - be filthier than last time.

(, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 14:57)
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posh bird's house
whilst going out with a very posh lass and having a meet-the-fucking-grandparents sunday lunch at her place...

i felt the call of nature. so i opted for the toilet upstairs (there was a choice, the house was big, piano and the lot)

after doing my business, i had managed to lay a cable so large, it poked out the top

two flushes, no joy and a desperation washed over me, there was no proletariat plaggy bog brush to mash up my monster mess

panicking, i toyed with the idea of mashing it in my hand...no, there must be something...anything to chop up the log of doom

then: a brainwave. i spied the posh towel container: a picnic basket. i snapped out a twig and Zorroed the turd into salami-esque slices. huzzah

after wiping the twig, i pondered how to get rid of it. no need, i just widdled it into the basket

then i went back to the meal, and no i didn't apologise for the length ;-)

sorry Anna!
(, Sun 30 Mar 2008, 20:07, Reply)

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