Lads, ye have put one on a plate for Roryās Stories here if he is lookin in.
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The story here is no good to him,itās actually funny unlike Rory
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I donāt think itās ever happened to me as an adult.
But I did it as a 7 year old on the school bus.
Those old yellow school buses with the blue/grey leather seats.
Wearing a pair of shorts.
Shit everywhere.
In fairness to the bus driver, he was very gracious and told the ma it happened all the time. Which I donāt think is true.
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I was nearly caught short when visiting the car museum in Turinā¦ barely made the jacks which was next to the restaurantā¦ anyways I let it all outā¦ the noises and the smell were out of this world. Finished up and after a few flushes left the cubicle only to find a cue of lads waiting outside to use the jacksā¦ the look of horror and disgust on some of their faces was a sight to beholdā¦
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A foreign jacks adds an extra level of danger altogether
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thereās no where to hide if it goes wrongā¦
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In the countryside bars in France in the 90s it was a hole in the ground. Like a porcelain slab with a hole and grooves for the feet
I remember being abroad years ago and one of lads confided heād just shit himself and hidden the jocks behind the cistern in the jacks.
Asked him was he going commando for the rest of the night, only for him to reveal heād brought a spare pair of jocks in his pocket.
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A few years ago on a stag abroad one of our party got caught short and ran into bookiesā¦got as far as the jacks but the damage was done. Heād shit himself. He rang the most reliable of the group looking for a dig out and a clean pair of jocks and shorts to be delivered down to him. Of course it didnāt happenā¦2 hours later he was dropped down a pair of y fronts about 4 sizes too small heād been hiding in jackās all that timeā¦had to leave wearing the jocks and no more such was the mess he had madeā¦he wasnāt happy but he drank away for the day anyways
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Not his first rodeo
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expert level
Agree. After a night out in Listowel last year on the night of the Limerick v Clare match in the round robin, I was making my way back to Cork. Stopped off in Tralee and had an unmerciful shit brewing. It was a lovely warm day and the shit sweats had started. It was the Ashe Hotel that took my devil load that morning. The relief was unrale!
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Happened me in Ghana. Had to suddenly run away from a museum tour and burst past the lady cleaning the toilets. A good half an hour in there and the tour waiting for me upon reemergence.
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Very close call on a run this afternoon. 90 minute long run in the planner but shaking off the effects of a Saturday night out in Dublin suburbia. Had gone to The Manhattan in Raheny before tipping down the road to Taza for some Pakistani cuisine & then a couple in The Watermill to round off the night.
Was feeling sluggish but thought I was okay stomach wise. Started off towards the Maypark pitches to turn right onto The Malahide Road with the intention of heading to Balgriffin, turning right again to Clongriffin, back into Donaghmede & then down to Kilbarrack & back along the coast into St Anneās Park & home.
I was about 3km in on the Malahide Road near Coolock when I got an awfully painful stomach cramp. I had the sudden realisation I was very close to shitting myself & began sweating profusely from the forehead. I was panicking a bit & knew I couldnāt trust a fart but my survival instincts kicked in.
Deep breaths, settle yourself, get into an easy rhythm & jog the kilometre to Clarehall Shopping Centre & to the refuge of the first floor public toilets. I was checking off the markers as I passed - Ireland is full merchants to the left of me, Leisureplex to the right, the roundabout ahead, the new apartment block & then I could see the shopping centre glistening in the late afternoon sun up ahead.
I quickened to a fast trot & the pressure on my stomach was becoming almost unbearable. In the front door onto the travelator thingy. Children messing on it on the way to Funky Monkeys play centre. Move out of the way befucked, Iām nearly shitting myself here. Around the corner, down along past Tesco & into a vacant first cubicle in the gents to unleash a violent bowel movement.
And then more came & this wasnāt going to be a quick in & out sitting. I was still listening to my music (a little bit of CMAT) but I could hear some scrotes kicking at the cubicle door. Kick all you want lads, Iām shitting out a couple of litres of brown liquid here. I emerged after 10 minutes, washed my hands, splashed some water on my face & judiciously (cc Ger Canning) decided to alter my route such that I was home after 70 minutes.
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Benefits of urban living - having public toilet at hand.
I had to take an impromptu shit while out for a run in the bog during the week.
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Anyone ever shat themselves with a lady in the bed or vice versa?
I had a close call 20 odd years ago, had to wash my arse in a sink after it. no jacks roll.
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