God help the poor fucker in the seat after the turnaround in DUB
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What a fcukin animal.
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Anywhere nice?
Algarve
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Thatās what I was thinking.
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Ooooo the Al gar vay
Jayus, if it was staining through the trousers he must have been in some state.
Even if his mate said it to him he could have fucked off and bought a trousers and tidied himself up in the bogs.
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Correct. Mad that he wouldnāt have noticed a stickiness in the region.
Golfer, sure.
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Dressed in beige, he must surely have been of the older vintage.
The ironic thing was Iād say he was a chap who is fond of his appearance. Goatee beard, funky casual shirt, red shoes and novelty socks. Topped off with a lump of shit hanging out of his beige trousers.
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Ah lovely
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Usually when fellas get a bit older they start this craic of dressing in beige for whatever reason. Where you see a few of them together they look like a bunch of negatives
This story just keeps getting better.Tell me you were wearing a your fedora.
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Christ thatās grim 
This story has the makings of a great short film
I was wearing the Panama
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A red alert yesterday led to much swearing, sweating and general discomfort. I had the kids at the playground when I felt a sudden pang in my lower intestine indicating disaster was afoot.
Much to the chagrin of the two youngsters, I ushered them hurriedly into the car to make the 10 minute journey home; this wouldnāt be an operation that could take place in a public toilet given the prescence of the children and possible health scare that may have followed.
āNo talking on the way homeā, I bellowed to the kids as my concentration was required both to drive and to maintain a clenched backside for fear of, in the words of Podge and Rodge, a āhorrendous evacuationā taking place.
Typically, I was held up by some young buck drawing silage and some auld wan probably driving home from collecting the pension and the āmessagesā. The two kids looked at me in a confused and worried manner as I effed, blinded and squirmed in my seat, trying to maintain my dignity.
Proceeding in the cul de sac to my abode, I had to use the clutch to drop to second gear to take a tight left hand bend about 300 yards before the house. This effort with my left foot almost lead to disaster, as I could feel a āturtle headā attempting to reveal itself to my boxers. I was under such pressure that I was afraid to lift my foot off the clutch, for fear of the consequences.
I drove in the gate, opened the kids seatbelts and told them make their own way out of the car and rushed in the door to the toilet in the nick of time to much relief and general pleasure
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Excellent piece. I felt your last paragraph should really have expanded more on the euphoria that ensued when the sounds of the first splash echoed up from the depths of the bowl.
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Feedback noted for any future occurrences
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