Hipster Shellz

Poo Competition

2008-10-27T06:58:00.000-07:00

My Friend Tom and I always used to discuss our shits. He used to be very proud of spending half an hour 'crimping one off'.

We then had a competition to see who could have the most plops in a day. It started off well enough, with about 3 or 4 each on the first day. Then tactics came into play. We both rushed off to the local curry house for vindaloos. Day 2 brought us up to about 7 and 5 poos each. Then I did something very silly.

I chose to cheat. Off I wen to Boots the Chemist and bout £10 worth of Ex-lax chocolate bars. And ate them all. Don't do this at home kids - it is not funny. On the plus side I was pooing 20 to 30 times a day, and won the competition. On the negative side, I spent most of the next 2 days on the toilet, getting more and more dehydrated, or walking carefully around my flat, with underpant stuffed with toilet paper incase of any further anal seepage.

I couldn't fart or laugh or cough without a couple of spoons of hot wet poo in my pants. Just say no to ex-lax kids.

The international language of poo

2008-10-27T06:57:00.000-07:00

I love poo stories. You know you've reached a special place when you can talk to a friend about shit.

My first story is one I trawl out, just as a sort of taster, because it involves animals not humans. Have you ever heard that labradors will eat anything - well mine was no exception. During a walk in the school playground he gobbled up a discarded sandwich some thoughtful childlet had left behind - glad wrap (clingfilm) and all. Assuming that it would pass eventually, the dog underwent some scrutiny during the following days, which was when we noticed a funny 'fluttering' sound when the dog was breathing (imagine sticking a bit of paper to a fan and turning it on and off repeatedly). It genuinely took at least 4 weeks to finally inhale/swallow the damn thing (far be it for my cheap old man to take him to the vet). Eventually the clingfilm reappeared - however most of it was still in one piece. Imagine a dog running around the garden with a long pooey bit of plastic flapping out of it's arse - now imagine my mum chasing him around the garden, wearing her marigolds and waving a pair of tongs!!!

Story two will be much briefer, staring with just one word: Turkey. Took a month to recover from the most explosive runs of my life, which is nothing special, except I did sit (for some time) in wonderment at the rediscovery of Nappy Wipes at 27.

Best first

2008-10-15T00:28:00.000-07:00

My worst still makes me shiver as I think of it.

I was on a Greek island-hopping holiday many years ago. For those of you that haven't been to Greece, they have a poor sewerage system, so have a dustbin by the squat bogs for used bog roll.

Anyway, I was on a ferry between Naxos and Paros when I felt an almighty twinge in my gut telling me that I'd picked up a grecian tummy bug. The boat was pitching about but it was a nice day so I wasn't too worried. I got to the toilets and recoiled - the whole of the squat area was covered in shit, by this time I was burting so held my breath, pulled down my shorts and pants and, while trying not fall over due to the rolling boat, I added to the mess and stink with load of watery diarrhoea.

About to pass out due to lack of oxygen, I looked around for the bog roll...there wasn't any. My arse was covered with runny shite and I HAD to wipe. Yes, you've guessed it. I had to open the dustbin of used bog roll, and select the least shitty bits of second hand bog roll to wipe my arse.