This happened to my best mate's brother. We lived in Finchley in north London, and at the time, he was a student at Goldsmith's college, living in New Cross in south east London.
He'd been home for Sunday lunch and had spent a pleasant afternoon, but wanted to get back that night. He set off for the Tube fairly late, but with enough time to make the connection to British Rail for the last bit of the journey.
As soon as he got on the Tube he realised that he needed a shit, and it was going to be a good 'un. The journey continued, he let out the odd fart to ease the pressure, but it continued to mount. Now, when he got to Victoria he realised there wasn't time to find a bog AND get the last train to New Cross, so he heaved in his guts and ran for the train. Things were now getting desperate but he hung on like a hero.
As the train approached New Cross he went over the walk to his shared house in his mind and got out his key in preparation. Then he realised he could visit a friend who lived near the station and use theirs. Running the whole way through the deserted streets he made it in 3 minutes flat and leant on the bell while banging on the door. As soon as he saw a shadow approaching in the hall, he undid his trousers, the door opened, he pushed past and ran to the bog pulling his pants down as he turned and let fly with a massive crap...
...unfortunately, he missed the toilet.
Sorry for length.
No comments:
Post a Comment