I used to sneak one out next to an elderly person or maybe a window licker so their carer would start to look worried. 
I find it funnier now to let one go as loudly as possible just to see someones’ reaction. Mission accomplished if they take offence. 
When im on the phone to the good lady if a feel a ■■■■ brewing it’s usually put the phone lower ■■■■ as loud as I can trying not to giggle usually followed by "that was right down my ear you git "
I shouldn’t but well you know how it is lol 
During my notice period on the flour deliveries, I tried to let rip in as many customer sites as possible if they were known for being awkward places to deliver to. Stank out some rather posh artisan bakeries even when full of customers (well they were organic).
My mate went one better when he left the same place. One artisan bakery had a toilet stored in an understair cupboard. Brand new, never used and most importantly, not plumbed in. He gave birth in it and left sharpish.
Muckaway, you’ve been a star throughout this magnificent thread! Stumbling upon it has renewed my faith in the UK Driver’s Forum. As kids we used to light them up and watch the green flames, until our mother drew our attention to a news report of a boy who had backfired and damaged his internals. I still think church pews are the best for resonance. And whoever (a couple of posts up from this) said ‘I must grow up’: don’t! It’s a trap! Robert
Its better to ■■■■ and smell a little than hold it in and be a ■■■■■■■ as they say 
I find it quite satisfying to do a silent but deadly in a crowded lift & leave after only travelling one floor after turning to the rest of the poor suckers with disgusted look on my face as I leave. Childish? Yes. Juvenile? Yes. Fun? Most definitely!
Love this thread!!
Silencers are my fav’s… they are always deadly… the look on hers and the kids face… 
Dishonest and Deadly; Where you let one go near someone else and walk away.
mrkazman:
Love this thread!!Silencers are my fav’s… they are always deadly… the look on hers and the kids face…
When the dog looks at you in disgust, you know you’ve really nailed it!
Evil8Beezle:
mrkazman:
Love this thread!!Silencers are my fav’s… they are always deadly… the look on hers and the kids face…
When the dog looks at you in disgust, you know you’ve really nailed it!
Wheres the like button!!
Fat Controller,you should not ■■■■ in a lift,you probably know that it is just Wrong Its wrong on so many levels.
at last a real drivers thread, now ■■■■■■■ in the cab should be taught to all new comers who wish to take up driving as a professional, maybe a section on the cpc should be included on it ? well it would at least make the cpc a bit worthwhile taking
i have nothing to complain about with drivers who ■■■■ in the cab, its the nose pickers that used to get my back up
desypete:
at last a real drivers thread, now ■■■■■■■ in the cab should be taught to all new comers who wish to take up driving as a professional, maybe a section on the cpc should be included on it ? well it would at least make the cpc a bit worthwhile takingi have nothing to complain about with drivers who ■■■■ in the cab, its the nose pickers that used to get my back up
As long as the picks are dry and can be hoovered or flicked out the window…no issues. The wet ones must be tissue bound!![emoji3] [emoji13]
This is the best a have read in a good while
it certainly is one of the best threads around by a mile
fed up with drivers who take there boots off to drive or those who are so thick they need to have explained to them how the relaxtion of drivers hours only applies to those who are struck in the traffic waiting to make a crossing over etc
a good old fashioned ■■■■■■■ thread is like music to my ears
This story comes from a friend of mine stateside
Why you should never talk on your mobil phone in the bog !
All in all, it hadn’t been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I’d last taken a dump. I’d tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of ■■■ cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell.
As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny ■■■■ that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order for the wife. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, “Everything Must Go!” This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky ■■■■ that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:
- Occupied.
- Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as
it’s next to the occupied one. - pooh smeared on seat.
- pooh and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable
liquid splattered on seat. - No toilet paper, no stall door, something growing
near base of toilet.
Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped my trousers and sat down. I’m normally a fairly shameful poohter. I wasn’t happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.
I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. poohter was blathering to Mrs. poohter about the poohty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My ■■■ let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn’t get ■■■■■■■■ soon, my day would be getting even crappier.
Finally my anger reached a point that overcame shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a ■■■■ of colossal magnitude – a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.
Once my ■■■ cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent:
(1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon’s continued seizing indicating that there was more to come; and (3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.
It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial “herald” ■■■■ had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.
“Oh my God,” I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, “No, baby, that wasn’t me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)■■”
Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I’d see that liquid poop had actually managed to
ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.
Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my ■■■■ symphony: “Gotta go… horrible… throw up… in my mouth… not… make it… tell the kids… love them… oh God…” followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.
Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one’s phone and wipe one’s bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My pooh-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.
There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final ■■■■ announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him
running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who’d be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.
As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.
I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my shamefulness to my anonymous pooh-mate. I think it’ll be a long time before he can bring himself to pooh in public – and I doubt he’ll ever again answer his cell phone in the
latrine.
And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.
I once ■■■■■■ so bad that I pulled up at a set of lights and a swarm of flies came into the cab thinking there was a freshly laid turd they could chill out on for 5 mins
SteveBarnsleytrucker:
I once ■■■■■■ so bad that I pulled up at a set of lights and a swarm of flies came into the cab thinking there was a freshly laid turd they could chill out on for 5 mins
And their still there
If its your birthday
Funny enough I have just f
arted while reading this thread