Brent was right...

[pasty]

The toilets on our floor consist of Trap 1 and Trap 2, no urinal. I simply refuse to shit in there. I'll go in there for a jimmy, but I simply cannot BEAR defecating directly next to someone, or risking someone entering the trap next to me whilst I am embroiled mid-cack. The plop-plop noises are bad enough when they are someone elses, but I cannot begin to imagine the horror if they were my own, quite apart from the smell.

We also have only T1 and T2 available, however their location is quite a way from my desk (which can prove tricky but thats another story) and there are at least 4 circuitous routes back to my desk available to me. With that in mind, when someone else enters AFTER I have secured myself into T1, I positively RELISH the complete opposite action to your good self, and take great enjoyment in making as much plop plop noise as is humanly possible whilst creating a stench, safe in the knowledge that my identity will remain secret. Mwah ha ha ha ha

 

[tedebear]

Why is it when men drop a nasal burner there is much high fiving and guffaw's but when women do it we become dirty?

My son can burn the hairs of the inside of your nasal passages but that is met with pride by my husband, whereas if I dare to even squeak they all roll about in deathly throws and de-camp to the workshop til it subsides...

 

[sams dad]

I had an invite to our new £80 million office today, although its official opening date is a few months away thought I would christen the cistern.

Imagine my dismay when I got to the building, having baked one all morning, when I was asked to give a 30 minute presentation to a bunch of colleagues about the new AV equipment that has been installed.

I was hopping from foot to foot for the last dozen slides, and then after a somewhat strangled "Are there any questions" I bombed out of the room before anyone could raise a hand.

Further panic ensued when I realised that I didn't actually KNOW where the bogs were, and as the building is not yet complete, they have not yet put the toilet signs on the rooms. I was diving in and out of offices, stationery cupboards and God knows what until eventually I found a bog (not sure if it was male or female), sat down to unleash a logjam, which was now so old it had FUR growing on it. Felt suitably proud of myself, and then realised that because the building is not officially open there was no BOGROLL.

It was a suitably uncomfortable journey home, as there are a few winnits clinging on to my hairy Irish arse, and as soon as I got home I put my undercrackers straight into the washing machine on a BOIL wash, to remove the crocodile skiis that are lining my Calvin Kleins.

I am sure there is a moral to this tale, but not sure what it is.

I think you've trumped Easy 10's anecdote with this post. I had tears of laughter rolling down my face while reading it.

 

[silent-assasin]

I could have beckoned over the hearing dog and trodden on his paw, I guess.

What the F is a 'hearing dog'?

 

[grubbyhands]

I worry about anyone who wants to christen the CISTERN

 

[The Antikythera Mechanism]

Whoever smelt it, dealt it.

 

[tedebear]

Whoever smelt it, dealt it.

He who said the rhyme, did the crime!

 

[Dr. Notthenineo'clocknews]

Farting in a lift is just wrong on so many levels.

another

 

[spongy]

My missus does the most vile, evil, nose curling farts I've ever known.

Monday night we both both asleep, it was 2.36 and I was disturbed from a deep sleep, I didn't know what caused me to wake up, didn't remember hearing a bang or noise and then the smell hit me properly. When I say smell, I mean it REALLY stank

It was so bad I had to get up and unload half a canister of febreze into the room. Even after spraying it smelt of a mix of fart and air freshener.

The noise of the aerosol stirred her, she turned over and fell back asleep not knowing what was happening.

I ended up leaving the room for 20 mins then going back to bed, I'm considering shoving a butt plug up her arse to stop her but I think the back pressure could cause the plug to fail and for it to be shot out at such velocity it could break a window.

End of the season we're starting a diet as the pies have made me a bit portly so I dread to think what lots of veg is going to do to her.

 

[Tristram Fourmile]

There is an older bloke in my office that goes into a trap, and drops his trousers and pants to his ankles to give himself a bog roll cock wipe down all while leaving the door open. He does this when others are in the loo. If he is on his own he stands at the sink, drops the trousers and pants and washes his cock off. I've wandered into the bogs to be presented with his arse and leopard skin pants and so has a colleague. We had to report him to security. The fear of not knowing if he was going to be in there became too much. The old guy on reception didnt know what to make of it, other than on finding out who it was did tell me that he had always thought the bloke a bit of a wrong un.

 

[Durlston]

There is an older bloke in my office that goes into a trap, and drops his trousers and pants to his ankles to give himself a bog roll cock wipe down all while leaving the door open. He does this when others are in the loo. If he is on his own he stands at the sink, drops the trousers and pants and washes his cock off. I've wandered into the bogs to be presented with his arse and leopard skin pants and so has a colleague. We had to report him to security. The fear of not knowing if he was going to be in there became too much. The old guy on reception didnt know what to make of it, other than on finding out who it was did tell me that he had always thought the bloke a bit of a wrong un.

This thread has had me in tears of laughter but that one, Tristram Fourmile, is the best post. I read it as panting as in groaning when wanking or shagging. Oh my days.

 

[Franks Wild Years]

Glad it's not just me that feels creeping horror at the thought of someone being in the next trap as I open bomb doors. If I hear someone enter next door I have to cease operations, sit very still and put my fingers in my ears to blot out the sound of the neighbours strains, parps and plops. Only when I'm sure they've completed business and exited the john can I then continue.
I've always thought my plopaphobia was wierd and somehow I was weird for feeling it but thanks to NSC I feel normal and able to hold my head up in public (toilets).
Thank you NSC, you are a friend indeed.

 

[JamesAndTheGiantHead]

There are only two rules I follow in this life;

Rule 1: Don't ever shit yourself.

Rule 2: Should you happen to shit yourself, never tell anyone.

If you adhere strictly to these rules, you will make something of yourself.

 

[Hiney]

Just to let you all know, don't EVER try to crimp out a fat one while suffering from a bad back. Not from the obvious danger of some kind of rupture as you reach the anal equivalent of the vinegar strokes, but from the potential collateral damage.

A couple of years ago I was suffering from a back SPASM and felt the need to drain my colon. The previous nights chicken tikka mahani was duly dispatched to a better place and I was then confronted with the need to mop up. I then realised that due to my back I couldn't reach round to administer the buffing up so had to call on Mrs Hiney to assist. She wasn't happy but after some gentle persuading, she agreed to wield the paper and help me out.

By this time, the toilet smelt like kicking out time at the black hole of Calcutta, so she was struggling a bit. She took a deep breath and, holding her wad of Andrex infused with aloe Vera, she plunged behind me and moved towards the crime scene. At this time, she inadvertently took a breath and immediately spewed forth a stream of bile, carrots and assorted chunks straight down my back. I was now sitting there with a rapidly drying crust of decaying curry circling my ring, with a stream of vomit drizzling into my arse crack. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Somehow we managed to clear up and agreed that we should never speak of it again.



Oh.

 

[British Grenadier]

I've had to stop reading this thread because there are tears running down my cheeks (the ones on my face) and I am struggling to see.

I got as far as "I was woken up at 2.36".

10/10 to all contributors so far. f***ing hilarious

 

[LadySeagull]

We get the best off-topic threads on here - comedy gold!

 

[RowleyBirkinQ.C(deceased)]

Nasty, very nasty.

Had a tricky situation myself just yesterday when I nipped to the loo for a mid-afternoon dump, and as I scurried into trap 2, the stench coming from a recent occupant of trap 1 was enough to bring tears to the eyes. Still, I was in desperate need myself, so before you could say arse gravy, I was settled and growing a tail myself.

Horror of all horrors, someone came into the gents just as I was splashing down. Nightmare, that smell wasn't mine, in no way was that mine, but that's not how things were looking. I was bordering on actually saying something through the door to that effect, but that would give away who I was, and probably still make me look guilty.

Trap 1, was a quick wee and gone, so I'm now faced with walking back into the office with the former occupant of trap 1 watching for who is about to return from the loo. I had no option, I thought about about going to lunch without returning. No coat, no car keys, nothing, just wandering aimlessly around the streets for 10 mins thinking "what AM I doing?". Naah, so I braved it out, marched back inmto the office thinking "I dare anyone to say anything." No-one did, but someone reckons it was me, and I don't know who.

Lovely stuff, made me chuckle alot as did easy 10's tale.
It doesn't happen very often and call me immature but my favourite toilet jape is if I go into Karzee for a whizz and trap 1, 2, and three are full. When your taking a poop you try to be as silent as possible, so with all 3 cubicles taken up you can hear a pin drop. Because you're at an advantage that You're only having a piss let out a massive guff in the silence, wash your hands and rush out.
It tickles me and occasionally I've heard chuckles from the cubicles.,

 

[mrbigshot]

I ended up leaving the room for 20 mins then going back to bed, I'm considering shoving a butt plug up her arse to stop her but I think the back pressure could cause the plug to fail and for it to be shot out at such velocity it could break a window.

That killed me

 

[Albalbion]

Arriving back from lunch, I pressed then button for the lift. It arrived on the ground floor, and before I got in, a woman on her mobile came BARRELLING out, not looking where she was going, and had to do a swerve to avoid colliding with me. I let out a "whoops", as if it was MY fault, but this went totally unacknowledged as she scuttled off, head down, phone jammed hard against the side of her face.

I thought nothing more of it until I stepped into the lift, and the doors closed. Before I pressed 2, I was immediately assaulted by an odourous STENCH the likes of which I have not smelled since the infamous full-blown surprise rear axel Curry Mahal pebbledash BLOWOUT of 2003. It was so bad, I turned around and checked the floor to see if she'd curled out a Vince somewhere.

What do you do in that situation ? I could have held my breath, but I'd only have been holding in the foul, fetid gasses of her soiled inner colon. I elected to slowly release the air from my lungs as the lift travelled up the two floors, until the thankful release of the 2nd floor arrived and I could once again breathe in the pure, sweet, air-conditioned oxygen of the hallway. I glanced back into my vertical tomb of STENCH before the doors closed and I could swear the mirror had warped, and the carpetting was coming up at the corners. DISGUSTING bint.

I will add here that I would normally take the stairs, but I was a bit late back after I'd doubled-back to Londis to pick up a bottle of fresh orange juice with bits in.

Women are dirty.

Wow, what a drama ! Did you scarper out of there and deny all knowledge ?

I had to rush out of the handicapped bog a couple of weeks ago with a somewhat slapdash wipe, as I heard the ice cream van pull into the carpark and I really wanted a Calippo.

There was no way of denying it. I was caught red-corded. A high pitched noise went off as soon as I hung my shirt up on the cord. Don't ask why I did it. I don't know to this day.

I had an invite to our new £80 million office today, although its official opening date is a few months away thought I would christen the cistern.

Imagine my dismay when I got to the building, having baked one all morning, when I was asked to give a 30 minute presentation to a bunch of colleagues about the new AV equipment that has been installed.

I was hopping from foot to foot for the last dozen slides, and then after a somewhat strangled "Are there any questions" I bombed out of the room before anyone could raise a hand.

Further panic ensued when I realised that I didn't actually KNOW where the bogs were, and as the building is not yet complete, they have not yet put the toilet signs on the rooms. I was diving in and out of offices, stationery cupboards and God knows what until eventually I found a bog (not sure if it was male or female), sat down to unleash a logjam, which was now so old it had FUR growing on it. Felt suitably proud of myself, and then realised that because the building is not officially open there was no BOGROLL.

It was a suitably uncomfortable journey home, as there are a few winnits clinging on to my hairy Irish arse, and as soon as I got home I put my undercrackers straight into the washing machine on a BOIL wash, to remove the crocodile skiis that are lining my Calvin Kleins.

I am sure there is a moral to this tale, but not sure what it is.

I ended up leaving the room for 20 mins then going back to bed, I'm considering shoving a butt plug up her arse to stop her but I think the back pressure could cause the plug to fail and for it to be shot out at such velocity it could break a window.

There is an older bloke in my office that goes into a trap, and drops his trousers and pants to his ankles to give himself a bog roll cock wipe down all while leaving the door open. He does this when others are in the loo. If he is on his own he stands at the sink, drops the trousers and pants and washes his cock off. I've wandered into the bogs to be presented with his arse and leopard skin pants and so has a colleague. We had to report him to security. The fear of not knowing if he was going to be in there became too much. The old guy on reception didnt know what to make of it, other than on finding out who it was did tell me that he had always thought the bloke a bit of a wrong un.

There are only two rules I follow in this life;

Rule 1: Don't ever shit yourself.

Rule 2: Should you happen to shit yourself, never tell anyone.

If you adhere strictly to these rules, you will make something of yourself.

Just to let you all know, don't EVER try to crimp out a fat one while suffering from a bad back. Not from the obvious danger of some kind of rupture as you reach the anal equivalent of the vinegar strokes, but from the potential collateral damage.

A couple of years ago I was suffering from a back SPASM and felt the need to drain my colon. The previous nights chicken tikka mahani was duly dispatched to a better place and I was then confronted with the need to mop up. I then realised that due to my back I couldn't reach round to administer the buffing up so had to call on Mrs Hiney to assist. She wasn't happy but after some gentle persuading, she agreed to wield the paper and help me out.

By this time, the toilet smelt like kicking out time at the black hole of Calcutta, so she was struggling a bit. She took a deep breath and, holding her wad of Andrex infused with aloe Vera, she plunged behind me and moved towards the crime scene. At this time, she inadvertently took a breath and immediately spewed forth a stream of bile, carrots and assorted chunks straight down my back. I was now sitting there with a rapidly drying crust of decaying curry circling my ring, with a stream of vomit drizzling into my arse crack. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Somehow we managed to clear up and agreed that we should never speak of it again.



Oh.

Lovely stuff, made me chuckle alot as did easy 10's tale.
It doesn't happen very often and call me immature but my favourite toilet jape is if I go into Karzee for a whizz and trap 1, 2, and three are full. When your taking a poop you try to be as silent as possible, so with all 3 cubicles taken up you can hear a pin drop. Because you're at an advantage that You're only having a piss let out a massive guff in the silence, wash your hands and rush out.
It tickles me and occasionally I've heard chuckles from the cubicles.,

GOLD! These have had me absolutely howling with laughter!

 

[Chicken Runner61]

Working down on a shop in York Place the building was being renovated and I was busting for a piss so I asked where the toilets were. The bloke running the site said up the stair on the right and mumbled something about not using the Urinals on one side but I didn't really hear him as I was already running up the stairs. This place was massive and the washroom looked really big as I ran in and now I was really busting so when I spotted two sets of Urinals one on each side I just went up to the first one and it all looked to be useable so I just unzipped pulled it out and had a long piss. On nearing the end I even started whistling and singing with relief.

Imagine my horror to turn around to use the sinks to find the wall on that side removed and a group of men and women sitting around a large table a few feet back from where the wall should have been all eating lunch!

I just did myself up quickly and rushed back outside wishing the floor would open up. I never bothered to find out why the wall had been removed on that side.