Friday 4 September 2009

THE DAY I... SHAT MYSELF


A short letter from a man that fell in trouble on his travels. 
Arite cunts, I'm OK and having a good time, nothing's gone wrong yet. Except for today. So far this trip I've felt that my anatomy has been in perfectly good working order but today, God proved me wrong in all of his almightyful glory. As I said, I've been feeling fine and so, sometime after lunch, I felt thad I needed a shit. OK so it had the rumblings of a biggie, but for someone like this man here that's nothing to worry about.
So, I approached the bogs with a slight swagger in my step - the strut of a cockerel who knows he's the dog's bollocks and likes to flaunt it. This attitude was, however, to become my undoing. A fall from greatness. I entered the toilets at precisely 6 minutes past 4 and casually lent against the wall to check myself out in the mirror, as one does with looks like mine. After looking into the mirror for what seemed like minutes but was probably hours I turned to start my predatory stalk to the toilet door, casually farting to anounce the Great One's approach to all the cockroaches that were probably waiting under the bogseat to ambush the weary traveller...
...BLOODY HELLFIRE, CHRIST, CHRIST ON HIS CROSS SURROUNDED BY ALL THE BLOODY SAINTS! I'm not going to lie, to my shocked amazement I had followed through. Big style. And shocked amazement it was for someone who had honed his bowel control on the battlefields of India, the swamps of northern Thailand and the deadliest kebab in Cardiff. I finished the ordeal off whilst sitting on the toilet and a messier occurence I have never known.
However, the ordeal had only just begun because, as we all know, toilet paper can only help so much, especially when you can't even flush it, and I knew I had to make it to the showers or accept surrender and almost certain doom. So, with my pants round my ankles I peered out of the bog and checked that the coast was clear. It was, and I started my great journey across the vast corridor. It looked like something from the March of the Penguins and to my shock and horror, right at the point that I was waddling over no-man's land one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen walked into the bathroom and my dignity and arrogance plummeted to lower than my grandma's tits. Saving what was left of my tattered dignity, I stumbled into the shower and the rest, as they say is history. 

YNGWIE MALMSTAIN

No comments:

Post a Comment