As i don't suffer with any disability apart from a severe lack of shame, this one probably annoyed someone down the line.
I'll set the scene for you, incredibly quiet afternoon at work. Cleaning out the beer cellar, as you do. I feel an awful stabbing pain which i assumed was trapped wind, as the night before a few to many sprouts were consumed (few to many being any at all), after dropping a stinker or two in this small confined room i became less popular with my colleague, however that was the tip of the iceberg.
Not minutes later i was forcibly ejected from the cellar by the uncontrollable agony shooting from my stomach and the unfaltering need the shout from my rear end.
The nearest toilet was the disabled cubicle. I went in a fully functioning man, i left a limping, sweaty, raw individual, worthy of a disabled parking permit.
After dropping trow, the violence started. A true assault on the toilet, and a score for any rebels who had always dreamt of using the disabled toilets!
It offended my nostrils quite savagely, but it was the impact it had on my movement that upset me the most. It left such a burning ring that i could barely walk, washing later that evening reduced me to tears and at this point you're all wondering why i'm telling you this information!
What was the left resembled a bag of mouldy fruit that had been placed in a bowl, all shapes and sizes, but only one colour.
Smell. 8
Type. N/A.
Wipe. 2. Painful and tiresome.
#paidtopoo
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