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theduisbergkid

A pressing social etiquette issue relating to my digestive system.

31 posts in this topic

I'm aware that amongst the many respected members on TyreSmoke there are a number of medically qualified people, others of high social standing well versed in matters of social etiquette, and Garcon. I hope I might share an issue that is rather pressing, both metaphorically and literally, in the hope that my discomfort be alleviated. For reasons of health I have made recent efforts to reduce my consumption of alcohol, excluding spirits, bitters, stout, fortified wines, and other vital medical tonics. When feeling the need to pollute my organs with alcohol I now prepare a large bowl of Muesli as a healthy alternative, and so far, this has worked well. Duisberg ! You’re rambling, man ! I hear you cry. Please, this is a delicate issue, and I feel it is important to present you with all the facts vis a vis my digestive predicament; Due in no small part to the huge quantity of Aldi’s own brand Alpine Muesli (more Pennine than Alpine) I have been ingesting, my bowel movements are distinctly out of kilter with my social movements. I have been required to present a stool during working hours as opposed to my usual leisurely morning ‘delivery’ at home in the warm confines of the downstairs trap at Schloβ Duisberg, well thumbed copy of Evo on my lap, cup of Gin at hand. And so, I’m now at work, anus straining, with 3 options at hand;

1-Make like an explorer, shovel in one hand, leaf in the other, and with a jovial “I’m just stepping out, I may be some time” step outside to the wilderness of this East Midlands Industrial Estate and unburden my bowels in the tundra, watched only by chain-smoking Polish HGV drivers waiting to unload their own delivery to the warehouse next door.

2-Use the disabled toilet. As a Gentleman with no physical or mental disabilities (disregarding the claims of “Dr” Chakraborty of Melton Health Centre), I cannot bring myself to excrete in the disabled toilet, that would not be the done thing. The sign says ‘disabled only’ and if we disregard such rules this place would descend into anarchy.

3-Use the usual closet, down the corridor from my office in the usual manner. I sense your infuriation, dear reader, you may well ask why I am not sat there already, panting like a dog trapped in a car on a hot day. Well - The strip lighting in there is on the blink and I fear the harsh strobing effect may bring on a bout of epilepsy, “Dr” Chakraborty calls it cirrhosis of the liver, but I’m quite sure it’s epilepsy. I have considered switching off the light and relieving myself in the dark, but the caustic nature of Aldi’s “muesli” means the resultant clean-up operation would be impossible in the dark. Even with the light on it is a task of such magnitude only myself and rescue workers with skills in cleaning oily Cormorants are qualified to attempt it. I could switch off the fizzing light and prop the door open with my foot, this presents the risk of startling Sarah on Reception, plus the length of my unclothed leg is slightly shorter than the distance to the door and in reaching to hold it open I might have a ‘Bechers Brook’ moment and become unseated.

I thank you for reading thus far and kindly ask anyone suitably qualified to suggest appropriate action. Yours (etc),

TDK.

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Muesli will do that to you, it messy up your (well, my) bowel routine :flush:

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Hold back, hold back, hold back. Wait until the turtles head starts to see daylight and the hit any trap you can get to.

The relief will be instant and the job will be very quick- so the lighting won't be an issue unless when pawing about you can't find the paper.

I'd also suggest visiting the ladies room, less mess (they only do neat poo, they don't pick their noses and don't wee on the seats), and a tammy machine and sometimes a tammy bucket to explore. With luck, if any ladies come in you might hear them talking about what a sex god you are.

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How far is your house from the office?

I know of two people (in a company of 100) who have never had a dump at work. Never. One of them has worked here almost 25 years ...

Your post oddly coincides with a sales specific warning to avoid "trap 2" in the upstairs bog due to some rather repugnant explosive movements.

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How far is your house from the office?

A good question, and one I should have answered in my original post, it's about 2Km. The distance isn't the issue, I arrived by bicycle today, the racey shape of the saddle would not sit well with my posterior in it's current distended shape.

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No poo(l) cars to use? Are you sure the shape of the saddle isn't going to give you some increased due time? That said, we are talking about something honed from pure fibre so there might not be as give as is required for such a move.

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I feel obliged to offer a suitably unique reply.

The easiest and therefore first option to discard is number three. If Sarah on reception can see you with the door open, you can be pretty sure she'll be able to hear you with the door closed. And it strikes me that in the circumstances your evacuation will be far from silent. A traumatised receptionist is a recipe for eternal doom and must be avoided at all costs.

It may just be my shy and retiring nature, however I feel we should also discard option one. Polish HGV drivers are prone to derive their entertainment in some pretty alarming ways, and an English gentleman should never place himself in the precarious position of having to defend his honour with his trousers around his ankles unless he finds himself challenged mid-exploit in the boudoir of another gentleman's wife.

Thus remains option two. Let's face it, by now your condition must be marginally more desperate than that of a one armed man dangling from a tall building with a mosquito gnawing his scrotum. In fact if you don't do something soon, you risk sustaining serious and possibly permanent injury. In the circumstances I feel it would be appropriate for you to explore the disabled facility as a potential legitimate user.

Unless any of your disabled colleagues are women. Then you're fúcked.

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That reminds me, I was in a disabled/baby change toilet in McDonalds last week with littlemisseldavo and noticed that the tampon bin had Braille on it.

Of all the places I'd be rummaging around in if blind, that would not be it.

Re; Duisberg - I stopped off at the Metro Centre Marriott hotel this morning just for a dump. Forward planning dear boy!

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Can you not find some wasteland at the back of the building and dig it out with a stick?

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There is another option, but I fear the postman will never again collect from my office if I use it...

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There is another option, but I fear the postman will never again collect from my office if I use it...

Euphemism? :uhoh:

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There's nothing else for it, you'll just have to sh1t yourself.

Ok, it has it's down sides, like having to put up with the smell and have flies buzzing around your pants for the rest of the day.

The squishy squelchy feeling can be pleasant but appreciate that could go either way, some people don't like it.

But looking at it positively, it'll feel like you have a heated seat, with none of the expense, what's more, you live up north, so invariably the extra warmth will be positively welcomed, especially by your knackers, and will have the effect of preventing your todger shrivelling up in the cold and embarrassing you in the event you receive a surprise blowy off the wife/receptionist/bin man.

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Or you could do it in the kitchen, wipe your arse on some bread, and leave out a tempting chocolate spread sandwich for the office kitchen food sniper!

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Or you could just download the free torch app for your iphone and use that so you can see what you are doing!!

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Surely by now you have either died of toxic shock syndrome, are at the bound mercy of Garcon's Polish drivers, or are currently trying to waft offending odour from the disabled lav through some tiny venting brick.

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I'd also suggest visiting the ladies room, less mess (they only do neat poo, they don't pick their noses and don't wee on the seats), and a tammy machine and sometimes a tammy bucket to explore. With luck, if any ladies come in you might hear them talking about what a sex god you are.

Hell no! The cleaning bods at our place seem to spend a very long time cleaning the ladies loos. Much longer than in the mens.

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Disabled trap everytime mate.

Used to have the same kind of layout in my old place of work - my 'walk of shame' would take me passed all my workies, then came the 'big shift' when we were all shifted around - I was then placed pretty close to the disabled bog - on the 3rd floor - with no disablists on the floor it became 'our' executive boghouse if you like.

We had it really nice with a library and all. Those were the days - you wouldn't get me doing so much as a piss in the place I am now - unless absolutely desperate and even then I'd feck off down the local Spasda if it were break or lunchtime!

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Genuine lol at more than one reply above. :roflmao:

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Whatever you do TDK and whichever trap you land in, please do not sneeze at the same time as offloading said load.

Believe me...it feckin hurts!:rolleyes:

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No further updates from TDK, is he sitting at his desk with a permanent look of shock on his face, his final thoughts wondering if this is what it feels like to be rogered by an elephant. Or did he hold on all day, get home with a face like a big plum and run screaming past the wife and kids to the loo? We need to know!

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Disabled loo, which was appropriate in the end, I was walking like Douglas Bader to get there....

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I'm glad to see you survived the ordeal.

I had a similar office facility conundrum yesterday, having suffered a severe bout of PCT (Post Curry Trauma).

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PCT (Post Curry Trauma).

I'm glad you clarified that, I was a bit worried, although it's not unusual for people to suffer under the care of the primary care trust!

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Primary Care Trust - what's that? It's April, new world order time in the NHS.

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