Tag Archives: toilet

The Coalminer

12 Sep

For a couple of weeks, my brother and I had hatched a plan to pull an extraordinary prank on our mutual friend, James. It came on the back of him getting one over on us with a joke of his own. In private, he had farted into a Pringles tube and quickly sealed it with the lid. Then he found each of us individually and asked if we thought the inside of the tube smelt funny, cue hilarity when we were hit with the fresh pong of his arse hole. We knew we wanted to get him back, but we were undecided about the best way to do it. James often stayed over in the summer holidays for days on end and early suggestions as to how we were going to get him back were quite feeble, including things such as farting in his face whilst he was asleep and putting his hand in water so he pissed himself. What we needed was something that would make James think twice about ever pulling a stunt like his Pringle tube fart ever again, something that would go down in legend amongst our friends. After a lengthy discussion one evening, we came up with an elaborate plan that, if executed well, would get James back twice over. We were going to scare the shit out of him.

James was due to stay the following night and we knew that despite his bravado, he was scared of one thing in particular; ghosts. If we started telling ghost stories, James would put his fingers in his ears and bury his head under his duvet so he could drown out all ghost talk. Like Gary Glitter and small boys, any mention of ghosts put the willies up him. We wrote down our plan of action and then went through a couple of practice runs, ensuring that we could carry out the necessary actions in the time we guessed we’d have available. Once sure that we could, we sat back smugly, looking forward to the events the following evening.

We spent the next day playing football in the local park with James and a couple of other friends. There was no mention to anyone of the plan we had put in place as we didn’t want to put it into jeopardy. The day passed and the evening came and as it was the school holidays we were allowed out late, so we hung around in the local park, doing nothing in particular. Eventually, we decided to call it a night and my brother and I gave each other a knowing look as we made our way home; we were finally going to get our revenge.

The three of us sat in my brother’s room playing his Super Nintendo. All my brother and I had to do was wait for James to give us the prompt we needed to start the prank. We didn’t have to wait long.

“Pause it lads, I need a piss”, said James. This was what I had been waiting for.

“Go on then, be quick” I replied. James stood up and headed for the bedroom door. As he opened it, I put the prank into motion.

“Oh, mate, just to warn you; don’t look out of the small bathroom window that you can see in front of you when you’re having a piss.”

“Err, why?” asked James.

“Because of the coalminer”

“The coalminer?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen him, my brothers seen him. Even my mum has mentioned seeing him”

“Who’s the coalminer?” James looked scared already.

“I’m not sure why he’s started coming here”, I began, “but the last few times I’ve been for a piss late at night and I’ve looked out of the window, I’ve seen the face of a small boy looking back at me. The face is covered in soot and is wearing a coalminer’s helmet. It’s really weird and scary”

“Yeah, whatever”, said James. I could tell he was shaken, that was the main thing, and we’d also planted the seed of doubt in his mind. He made his was slowly out of the bedroom.

No sooner had James left us to cross the landing and go to the bathroom, had my brother sprinted downstairs and to the front door. Here he picked up a torch which we had hidden the previous day and then made his way to the front of the house. Once outside, he climbed on top of the wheelie bin, also positioned strategically the day before. This gave him easy access to the flat garage roof to which the small bathroom window looked out over. The practice runs had been worth it as he was up on the roof in no time at all. I meanwhile, had snuck across the landing and was listening at the bathroom door. I could still here the urine trickling out of James and into the toilet and I braced myself ready for the prank’s finale.

My brother was crouching below the bathroom window. He turned the torch on and held it against the top of his head with one hand. Then he leapt up and pressed his face to the window.

“WAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH” he bellowed as he jumped to his feet. As I heard this I burst through the door.

“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK”, screamed James and he collapsed to the floor, covering his head with his hands.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” he shouted, still not entirely sure as to what was going on.

My brother and I erupted into fits of laughter. I opened the bathroom window and my brother poked his head through.

“Woooo, I’m the scary coalminer boy!” he teased. James looked up from the floor.

“You are fucking bastards! Fuck you!” He was still shaking with fear.

“We got you! We fucking got you!” I replied. My brother had tears rolling down his cheeks.

After a while James got to his feet. What we saw delighted us. Not only had we scared him something silly, but we had forced James to piss all over the front of his trousers. My brother and I were deliriously happy with our achievements.

“I think that makes us about even”, I said to James, once the commotion had died down and we were back in the bedroom playing the computer.

“All I did was a fart…one fart…that was it. A fart” was all that James could muster

Advertisements

Some Dirty Bastard has shat on the seat…

7 Jul

…were the words of disgust from the bargirl as she stepped out from behind the bar, face contorted with disbelief, coat hanger in hand. A few of us went silent, pints held inches from our open mouths.

“Erm, what’s the coat hanger for?”, someone asked. “Are you going to hang it out to dry?”

There was stifled laughter amongst my group of friends; I tried my hardest to get the image of a turd hanging gracefully on a washing line, swaying in the wind, out of my head.

“No. I’m going to knock it in with it.”

We fell about laughing. As the bargirl ventured into the murky gents toilets, talk turned to the culprit of such a heinous (but quite amusing nonetheless) crime. One friend, Ashley, was particularly quiet and wasn’t joining in much. Whilst most of us sniggered, and found the episode thoroughly enjoyable, he had gone quite coy. Fingers were soon pointed in the direction of Ashley.

“Shut up, she’s fucking livid” Ashley said, starting to turn crimson.

“Did you do it? Did you?”. We were all eager to hear his story, but after much probing, there was still no owning up from Ashley, despite all evidence pointing to him. He’d been to the toilets recently, and for quite a while. We carried on with the questioning until the bargirl returned from the gents, hand over her mouth, gagging.

“I can’t do it. It’s making me heave”.

With the evidence literally still sat there waiting, we ventured in to see the damage. As we piled into the gents, there were cries of both horror and joy. There, on the back on the toilet seat, was a perfectly formed baby toilet truffle, about 5 inches long. The damage to the fecal matter from the hook on the coat hanger was visible with a few vertical ‘stripes’ down the side of it where the bargirl had tried to hook it off the seat and into the bowl. This turd was sticking around it seemed.

With none of us brave enough to try and shift it, we spilled back out into the bar and returned to our pints. Simon grabbed Ashley’s phone from his hand,

“Just need to text…WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT??!!!”

Ashley’s head dropped. We all gathered round. There was the all the evidence needed to convict him of the crime right in front of us. A photo, taken on his mobile, which he’d been trying desperately to delete. We ribbed him mercifully.

“Why, Ash? Why?” one of us enquired.

“I just thought it would be a laugh, but then I saw her reaction”, he motioned towards the bar “and thought better of it.”

I wasn’t sure what to think, but things took a further twist.

“Ashley, in this photo, the shit is on the right hand side, but in the toilet, it’s slap bang in the centre. Why?”

“It looked better in the middle”, came Ash’s reply, and with that, we collapsed into fits of giggles once more

Train Piss

23 Dec

Going for a piss on a train is never easy. The gentle sway of the carriage makes aiming difficult and it can be hard to choose between using a hand to steady yourself or to hold your nose to alleviate the stench of the often rancid surroundings. Attempting to urinate on a train whilst drunk, into an empty can of beer however, is even more of a challenge, and it is a position I found myself in not too long ago after a night out.

Rowley and I had a carriage to ourselves. It was 1 o’clock in the morning and so there weren’t too many passengers, especially as we were travelling from High Wycombe to Princes Risborough. We were both drunk, but in good spirits, laughing about the nights events and looking forward to getting off the train for a well deserved cigarette. The journey itself is only about 15 minutes long, but halfway through, I felt my bladder expanding rapidly, pushing against my trousers.

Everyone knows what it’s like once you’ve broken the seal after a few alcoholic drinks; you need to go to the toilet all the time. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been for a while and I felt as if I could actually wet myself for the first time in years.

“Fuck me, I’m desperate for a piss, where are the toilets?” I asked Rowley, too lazy to look for them myself. Rowley looked up from his phone and along the carriage.

“Just down there, look” he said, pointing.

 I walked out of the carriage in which we were sat, and into the next one, which was only occupied by one old man. Fit to burst, I began to think about the warm tingly feeling I’d get after releasing such a buildup of urine. As always, things were not that simple.

Before I had even reached the toilet door, the reek of a freshly deposited turd hit me, making me gag instantly. The air was a foggy haze, and the thought of inhaling somebody else’s airborne poo particles made me retch again. I daren’t even open the toilet door. If the smell was this bad outside, what monstrosity would I face inside? Images of skid-marked porcelain flashed before my eyes and I only just managed to keep down a small amount of vomit which had crept up my throat. How the old bloke sat in this carriage could put up with the smell, I wasn’t sure, unless it was him that had committed this heinous crime.

Turning around quickly, I made my way back to where Rowley was sat; now jiggling around on my feet like a toddler, desperately trying not to wet myself.

“I’m not going it there, it’s fucking disgusting” I said to a now rather amused Rowley.

Scanning the carriage, I spotted equipment that I felt I could use in such an emergency. By one set of seats there sat two empty beer cans, and a large coffee cup. I picked up the coffee cup and pulled off the plastic lid, grateful that the items I had spotted were not some sort of mirage brought on by the fact I needed to urinate immediately.  The relief I felt as I finally let all pent up fluid out was sensational, and I let out a sigh to signify such a feeling.

The cup was soon almost full, so I tensed and held my bladder whilst I quickly put the cup down and picked up one of the beer cans. This time, aiming was not as easy as I didn’t have much of a hole to aim at. Instead I had to let my piss trickle out slowly but at least it was coming out. I had another disadvantage whereby I couldn’t see how much of the can I had filled, but this was solved when I felt the metal go warm around my fingers. It was time to swap cans.

By now I had built up a bit more confidence and was peeing at a more normal speed into my last available receptacle. Rowley was sat a few seats back, chuckling to himself, all the while calling me a dirty bastard. I had to tell him to stop laughing because in turn it was making me laugh, thus adding to the difficulty of my challenge.

“Are there any more cans up by you”, I asked Rowley, mid-piss.

“Nope”

“Oh, shit. This one is nearly full as well”. I was starting to worry. Rowley just laughed once more.

 I was holding the final can at the top waiting for the metal to go warm, but it was now heavy and I knew that I’d almost reached its capacity. For a second time, I held my bladder and placed the can down by the other full one. We were still a couple of minutes from our stop and there was no way that I could keep the last of this piss inside me, especially not now I was over half way through. It wanted out.

There was only one thing for it. Not wanting to go all over the floor, I waddled over to a bin near one of the carriage doors. It was only about 2 foot off the ground, so I had to squat whilst I finished off my business. Once done, I zipped up and returned to my seat, exhausted but content. I felt ashamed and also had a pang of guilt because I knew some poor soul would have to clear the bin out the following day. Then I remembered why I had to piss in the bin in the first place and thought that cleaning the bin would be nothing compared to what lay in store in the actual toilet.

“Are you ok now?” asked Rowley

“I really needed that” I replied.

%d bloggers like this: