What's the longest you've been constipated?
Discussion
Inspired by the A&E thread, and the woman going to hospital because she hasn't had a s
t for two days.
I went back packing in 1988. We made our way down across France, visiting several places. After 10 days, I find myself in a tiny little border town called "Port Bou". Not once in the previous ten days, had I found myself "getting the urge". Something had to be done.
As I don't speak Spanish, and surmised that trying to mime the symptoms of constipation, could be mistaken, I decided not to use the pharmacy. Some lateral thinking was required.
I decided that as seafood tended to upset me, some calamari in olive oil, from the dirtiest looking place in town might do the trick?
I found such an establishment, and tucked in. The squid actually smelt bad, so I felt certain I was onto a winner.
I had no idea how long it should, or would take to work, but felt it safe to go for a beer with the lads. Several beers in, I'm not noticing anything, until suddenly the urge made itself known. My mates were laughing at me, as I made my excuses and departed for the room (the bog in the bar was minging).
Jesus H Christ !!!!!!
I have never been fisted, but I think I have a pretty fair idea of how it must feel ? I would have given anything for an epidural! The pain was indescribable. I was seriously wondering if I had damaged anything?
I was too proud to scream, but I'll admit to tears running down my cheeks.
I don't normally do it, but morbid curiosity got the better of me. It may sound a bit sick, but I wished I'd had a camera with me. The beast was enormous. I had heard the saying "it looked like a dead otter" before, and had to agree somewhat !
Unfortunately, all I had done, was remove the cork. I spent the next two days never daring to venture out of the room. Not having a set of bathroom scales handy, I couldn't tell you how much "weight" I lost. It was a lot, and seemed to be a lot more than I remembered eating in the previous ten days?
t for two days.I went back packing in 1988. We made our way down across France, visiting several places. After 10 days, I find myself in a tiny little border town called "Port Bou". Not once in the previous ten days, had I found myself "getting the urge". Something had to be done.
As I don't speak Spanish, and surmised that trying to mime the symptoms of constipation, could be mistaken, I decided not to use the pharmacy. Some lateral thinking was required.
I decided that as seafood tended to upset me, some calamari in olive oil, from the dirtiest looking place in town might do the trick?
I found such an establishment, and tucked in. The squid actually smelt bad, so I felt certain I was onto a winner.
I had no idea how long it should, or would take to work, but felt it safe to go for a beer with the lads. Several beers in, I'm not noticing anything, until suddenly the urge made itself known. My mates were laughing at me, as I made my excuses and departed for the room (the bog in the bar was minging).
Jesus H Christ !!!!!!
I have never been fisted, but I think I have a pretty fair idea of how it must feel ? I would have given anything for an epidural! The pain was indescribable. I was seriously wondering if I had damaged anything?
I was too proud to scream, but I'll admit to tears running down my cheeks.
I don't normally do it, but morbid curiosity got the better of me. It may sound a bit sick, but I wished I'd had a camera with me. The beast was enormous. I had heard the saying "it looked like a dead otter" before, and had to agree somewhat !
Unfortunately, all I had done, was remove the cork. I spent the next two days never daring to venture out of the room. Not having a set of bathroom scales handy, I couldn't tell you how much "weight" I lost. It was a lot, and seemed to be a lot more than I remembered eating in the previous ten days?
very bold move!!
4 days... Le Mans with the help of immodium... Unload on the ferry down and stock up on the immodium cause the toilets in Le Mans... well frankly some of them you could smell at 10 paces half a fking mile away... No way I could get within 100m without gag reflex going off.
Then the ferry journey back is interesting to say the least
king mile away... No way I could get within 100m without gag reflex going off.Then the ferry journey back is interesting to say the least
I'd been taking some diabetic pills for years and as a consequence did not pass one with two ends for years.
Then, new medication regime and the guts became like a unemptied cement mixer.
Three days later and it was like giving birth. Nature must normally provide some lubricant, but on this occasion, Oh no!! It was like trying to drag a tree branch covered in prickly bark through my ring piece. The bog door handle had teeth marks in it afterwards.
Then, new medication regime and the guts became like a unemptied cement mixer.
Three days later and it was like giving birth. Nature must normally provide some lubricant, but on this occasion, Oh no!! It was like trying to drag a tree branch covered in prickly bark through my ring piece. The bog door handle had teeth marks in it afterwards.
Do you ever have the experience of curling out 'un grand bronze' (as they say in la belle France) that is so big it makes you whimper for mercy, and then the bloody thing has the effrontery to plunge into the water and swim off round the bend leaving an empty pan, denying you the chance to inspect and admire your handiwork?
Oh, it must be just me then....
Oh, it must be just me then....
Gaspode said:
Do you ever have the experience of curling out 'un grand bronze' (as they say in la belle France) that is so big it makes you whimper for mercy, and then the bloody thing has the effrontery to plunge into the water and swim off round the bend leaving an empty pan, denying you the chance to inspect and admire your handiwork?
Oh, it must be just me then....
You mean a poo-dini! Oh, it must be just me then....
Boozy said:
You mean a poo-dini!
Or those Swiss/Austrian toilets with an inspection pan? Serious riak of touchdown before the launch ceremony is over...The world record by the way is apparently 144" - British guy, constipated, in hospital. I'm not sure who I feel most sorry for - the patient, the nurse with the bedpan(s) or the one who was told to measure it.
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