What's the etiquette here??

Dardania

Hector Savage wrote: »

This house is a funny design, the upstairs is almost like another house, no one knows you are there - I would never take a book or spend longer then 5 mins in the "living" level jacks.


People will never try to use that one - unless the BIL + his mrs are over as they stay in the bedroom on this level - which is why I hadn't been using it whilst they were staying.

Thats why I was shocked when I heard the MIL pottering about - I thought "What the F*CK is she doing here!!!?" - first time in more than 10 years....

I suspect theres something rotten in the state of Denmark here. The MIL rarely ventures to the guest level, and yet you perchance hear her there? Perhaps does she have a scatological secret she keeps from the family, where she pebble dashes the guest bog, and enjoys the social dilemma it places you and possibly the BIL and mrs in?
They do say a serial killer will be caught eventually when their pride overcomes them and they return to the scene of the crime to relive the sense of power - though of course that power will never reach the o ring stressing level which it must have taken to blast the underside of the seat.
Was the MIL studying your faces when seated upon her dining room throne perchance, with a sociopaths gaze?

Hector Savage

Dardania wrote: »

I suspect theres something rotten in the state of Denmark here. The MIL rarely ventures to the guest level, and yet you perchance hear her there? Perhaps does she have a scatological secret she keeps from the family, where she pebble dashes the guest bog, and enjoys the social dilemma it places you and possibly the BIL and mrs in?
They do say a serial killer will be caught eventually when their pride overcomes them and they return to the scene of the crime to relive the sense of power - though of course that power will never reach the o ring stressing level which it must have taken to blast the underside of the seat.
Was the MIL studying your faces when seated upon her dining room throne perchance, with a sociopaths gaze?

Swing and a miss!!

JohnnyFlash

I'd be extremely careful of spending too long sitting on the can reading. Or course reading has been replaced for many people with tedious mobile games or the viewing of 'Californian avant garde movies'. We all know it can be nice to chill out on the throne after launching a brown submarine, but spending too long perched there can result in a medically noteworthy case of the old 'Johnny Giles'.

Happened to a cousin of mine back in the 80's. Very bookish sort of lad, and would often be seen wandering off to the potty with a substantial looking hardback in his hand. It was also in a cold and damp house in East Galway. The poindexter mightn't emerge from the dunny for an hour. And his mother was legendary for the horrors of her cooking so the poor lad was probably attempting to strain out a very hard bolus each time. Recipe for disaster - if you'll pardon the pun.

Anyway, the lad ended up getting such a severe case of internal 'Nobby Stiles' that he had to be
brought down to Portiuncula hospital in Ballinasloe where one of the last of the old-fashioned nursing nuns fingered him and confirmed they'd have to be operated on.

The entire village knew about it, and he got savagely teased in the local secondary school where he was a young teacher at the time. Hit the bottle fairly hard in later years, and I've always felt some of that might be down to having to have an árse operation in his early 20's.

Slideways

Well lads (and ladies) it is with a heavy heart that I must pass on some fairly tragic information.


The lady shaver did a right number on me, ended up with an ingrown hair just on the inner side of the right cheek, about 25 mm south of the barse. The sump was red-raw and I figured it was a day or so of regret and dabbing paw paw ointment on it. Alas, the already poor situation took a turn for the worse and it got infected.

Ended up in A&E in the Princess Margaret hospital in perth where a a big maori lass got stuck into it. Could barely walk after.

To add insult to injury herself found out about my antics with her new shaver which was less than pleased with. She was fecking livid when I also confessed to dabbing the hoop using her cotton wool and facial toner. Im in the dog house and feeling very sorry for meself

Cartman78

Sending thoughts and prayers

Sharp MZ700

Cartman78 wrote: »

Sending thoughts and prayers

Fuch that, he got what was coming to him. Using his missus' ladyshave on his hoop is bang out of order! You want to go messing around with arse foliage, you get the landscapers in.
Cheap doesn't always mean cheerful, that Maori must be still laughing to herself. Sorry Slidey, but you brought this on yourself, painful and all as it sounds.

gerrybbadd

Its the application of the toner that I can't get over.

C'mon man - did you do a patch test at all first? That stuff stings like bejaysus. And you go slopping it on to Biffin's Bridge then. Ah no - of course your follicles ended up retreating.

You live and you learn I suppose

fuerte1976

In a bit of a dilemma this evening people.

I arrived to the stall this evening to settle in for a post work deposit I'd been holding on clutch on for a couple hours to discover a woeful breach of etiquette.
A couple of fresh runways laid out on either side of the porcelain with no effort to clean up and to top off a sprinkling of p11s sitting in the pond.

Obviously the individual sent the heavy goods to feed the fish before marking his territory..

How am I to broach this with my 8 year old??

gerrybbadd

fuerte1976 wrote: »

In a bit of a dilemma this evening people.

I arrived to the stall this evening to settle in for a post work deposit I'd been holding on clutch on for a couple hours to discover a woeful breach of etiquette.
A couple of fresh runways laid out on either side of the porcelain with no effort to clean up and to top off a sprinkling of p11s sitting in the pond.

Obviously the individual sent the heavy goods to feed the fish before marking his territory..

How am I to broach this with my 8 year old??

He's 8. Time he learned now, when the mind is fertile. Bring him in and show him the carnage. Explain why its wrong. Approach it as constructive criticism though.

Oh, and fart into his face as a show of dominance on his way out the door

perrito caliente

There have been boxes of Cadbury's Heroes and tubs of Quality Street doing the rounds at work and I've been living on Dr Oetkers and cheap lager at home while the wife is gone. Result: was bent over the pot yesterday after releasing about four pints of penis water, and shot out a sizeable cone of small hard pellets from my anus. You could hear them hit the china, rat-a-tat-tat like ball bearings composed of bowel juice and composted food shot out through a Tommy gun.

Half the pellets sunk, half the pellets floated. Was a bit perplexed but completed the paper work and got back out into the corridors of power to marshal the troops. Felt a wet spot on the inside of my thigh as I hit full walking speed, clipboard underarm, appearances matter, but reckoned it was a stray droplet of urine (it happens). Tried to dab it away by fingering the outside of my pants nonchalantly. Tried this several times and continued with my day, but the wet spot persevered. When I got home I investigated the matter properly and found that a stray pellet must have slipped into my underwear and mashed up against the inside of my leg. Was flat as a chocolate button and by that stage dried into the coarse hair of my thigh. Tore away at it with my nails and eventually stripped the fecker loose.

fuerte1976

gerrybbadd wrote: »

He's 8. Time he learned now, when the mind is fertile. Bring him in and show him the carnage. Explain why its wrong. Approach it as constructive criticism though.

Oh, and fart into his face as a show of dominance on his way out the door

I tried that approach and he only laughed at me..

I fear he's getting one up on me!

Bullocks

JohnnyFlash wrote: »

I'd be extremely careful of spending too long sitting on the can reading. Or course reading has been replaced for many people with tedious mobile games or the viewing of 'Californian avant garde movies'. We all know it can be nice to chill out on the throne after launching a brown submarine, but spending too long perched there can result in a medically noteworthy case of the old 'Johnny Giles'.

Happened to a cousin of mine back in the 80's. Very bookish sort of lad, and would often be seen wandering off to the potty with a substantial looking hardback in his hand. It was also in a cold and damp house in East Galway. The poindexter mightn't emerge from the dunny for an hour. And his mother was legendary for the horrors of her cooking so the poor lad was probably attempting to strain out a very hard bolus each time. Recipe for disaster - if you'll pardon the pun.

Anyway, the lad ended up getting such a severe case of internal 'Nobby Stiles' that he had to be
brought down to Portiuncula hospital in Ballinasloe where one of the last of the old-fashioned nursing nuns fingered him and confirmed they'd have to be operated on.

The entire village knew about it, and he got savagely teased in the local secondary school where he was a young teacher at the time. Hit the bottle fairly hard in later years, and I've always felt some of that might be down to having to have an árse operation in his early 20's.

Spending an hour reading a hardback book in East Galway during the 80's ? That was probably a bigger cause of getting savagely teased , lucky they didn't skip Portiuncula , and bring him straight to St .Bridget's for a spell until he agreed to only read mart reports in the journal and drink copious amounts of black porter to keep his mind off them hardbacks

Brendan Bendar

perrito caliente wrote: »

There have been boxes of Cadbury's Heroes and tubs of Quality Street doing the rounds at work and I've been living on Dr Oetkers and cheap lager at home while the wife is gone. Result: was bent over the pot yesterday after releasing about four pints of penis water, and shot out a sizeable cone of small hard pellets from my anus. You could hear them hit the china, rat-a-tat-tat like ball bearings composed of bowel juice and composted food shot out through a Tommy gun.

Half the pellets sunk, half the pellets floated. Was a bit perplexed but completed the paper work and got back out into the corridors of power to marshal the troops. Felt a wet spot on the inside of my thigh as I hit full walking speed, clipboard underarm, appearances matter, but reckoned it was a stray droplet of urine (it happens). Tried to dab it away by fingering the outside of my pants nonchalantly. Tried this several times and continued with my day, but the wet spot persevered. When I got home I investigated the matter properly and found that a stray pellet must have slipped into my underwear and mashed up against the inside of my leg. Was flat as a chocolate button and by that stage dried into the coarse hair of my thigh. Tore away at it with my nails and eventually stripped the fecker loose.

Wouldn’t panic, just say the lad in the canteen gave you some wet change.

sligojoek

fuerte1976 wrote: »

I tried that approach and he only laughed at me..

I fear he's getting one up on me!

Rub his nose in it next time.

mfceiling

Stopped for coffee this morning in the local cafe.
Was sitting enjoying it when this fat, bearded thing trundled past towards the jacks. Looked like the stereotypical IT type...diet consisting of cans of monster and frozen pizzas and nuggets.
He came out about 5 mins later and waddled off about his business.

I finished up my cup of joe shortly after and said I'll nip in for a hit and miss before I go. Mens toilet is a cubicle with no separate urinal area.
Lads he had left the back of the bowl like the car park at electric picnic. The smell was something like I'd imagine Chernobyl was in 86.

Lucky for him I had polished of a large mug of coffee before I left the house and with the fresh cup still hot in the house I managed to blow most of the midden from the back of the trap. Pressure was probably the same as a top of the range K'archer power washer and in 20 seconds I'd blasted that slurry into the water.

Dirty fecker walking away from that.

gerrybbadd

mfceiling wrote: »

Stopped for coffee this morning in the local cafe.
Was sitting enjoying it when this fat, bearded thing trundled past towards the jacks. Looked like the stereotypical IT type...diet consisting of cans of monster and frozen pizzas and nuggets.
He came out about 5 mins later and waddled off about his business.

I finished up my cup of joe shortly after and said I'll nip in for a hit and miss before I go. Mens toilet is a cubicle with no separate urinal area.
Lads he had left the back of the bowl like the car park at electric picnic. The smell was something like I'd imagine Chernobyl was in 86.

Lucky for him I had polished of a large mug of coffee before I left the house and with the fresh cup still hot in the house I managed to blow most of the midden from the back of the trap. Pressure was probably the same as a top of the range K'archer power washer and in 20 seconds I'd blasted that slurry into the water.

Dirty fecker walking away from that.

Oh no - rookie mistake that. All that blasting is lifting big hole's faecal matter up into the air, and landing all over you. Did you not note an increase in offensive scent also?

mfceiling

gerrybbadd wrote: »

Oh no - rookie mistake that. All that blasting is lifting big hole's faecal matter up into the air, and landing all over you. Did you not note an increase in offensive scent also?

Nose and mouth tucked into my sweater. Got the bang as soon as I opened the first door so I knew what was on the other side of the cubicle door.

Dr Strange

mfceiling wrote: »

Nose and mouth tucked into my sweater. Got the bang as soon as I opened the first door so I knew what was on the other side of the cubicle door.

Lad, you'll be smelling like someone who worked 8 hours in a public mortuary now. Are you using public transport?

mfceiling

Dr Strange wrote: »

Lad, you'll be smelling like someone who worked 8 hours in a public mortuary now. Are you using public transport?

Christ no...home and had a shower. Clothes in the washing machine. Taking no chances.

tgdaly

Lads, I know cleaning staff have a job to do too, but I'm at a loss trying to explain as to why they would choose the time in and around the lunch hours to try and clean the Thomas Crapper. Surely it's the busiest time of the day for making brown transactions?

I'd just managed to tease a beaver out the damn, and looking forward to a few minutes to contemplate life, when I hear the dreaded knock on the door. In walks the cleaner, obviously sees the stall door locked, and makes a hasty retreat. But the moment is ruined and I always feel obliged to try and hurry things up, not like you can relax knowing somebody is outside waiting for you to finish anyways.

Rushed clean up job was probably inadequate, and going to be in a foul mood now for the rest of the day

NeinNeinNein

tgdaly wrote: »

Lads, I know cleaning staff have a job to do too, but I'm at a loss trying to explain as to why they would choose the time in and around the lunch hours to try and clean the Thomas Crapper. Surely it's the busiest time of the day for making brown transactions?

I'd just managed to tease a beaver out the damn, and looking forward to a few minutes to contemplate life, when I hear the dreaded knock on the door. In walks the cleaner, obviously sees the stall door locked, and makes a hasty retreat. But the moment is ruined and I always feel obliged to try and hurry things up, not like you can relax knowing somebody is outside waiting for you to finish anyways.

Rushed clean up job was probably inadequate, and going to be in a foul mood now for the rest of the day

Should have told him/her/it to f**k off, no attention required as somebody will most likely be along soon to urinate on any ski marks.

gerrybbadd

I'm seriously thnking of investing in a whoopie cushion for use in the stall. The minute someone thinks of entering beside you - let her loose. It'd be a bit of craic at the very least

Hector Savage

tgdaly wrote: »

Lads, I know cleaning staff have a job to do too, but I'm at a loss trying to explain as to why they would choose the time in and around the lunch hours to try and clean the Thomas Crapper. Surely it's the busiest time of the day for making brown transactions?

I'd just managed to tease a beaver out the damn, and looking forward to a few minutes to contemplate life, when I hear the dreaded knock on the door. In walks the cleaner, obviously sees the stall door locked, and makes a hasty retreat. But the moment is ruined and I always feel obliged to try and hurry things up, not like you can relax knowing somebody is outside waiting for you to finish anyways.

Rushed clean up job was probably inadequate, and going to be in a foul mood now for the rest of the day

Nothing worse allright, we are lucky in my current place that the cleaning crew don't come in till after 6...

Ffs, have a load ready to go, headed up to the traps only to discover two lads on stepladders in front of the cubicles running wires from the office through the ceiling in the jacks. Looks like they will be there a while too.
I have two choices, risk keeping this on the clutch, or go down to the shop floor and use the dreaded public toilets. You never know what you'd face in the public toilets, when the cleaners get paged there, everyone subconsciously crosses themselves. Hopefully the clutch will hold for another while.

friendlyfun

HAHA the amount of people falling for this is even funnier

carq

tgdaly wrote: »

Lads, I know cleaning staff have a job to do too, but I'm at a loss trying to explain as to why they would choose the time in and around the lunch hours to try and clean the Thomas Crapper. Surely it's the busiest time of the day for making brown transactions?

I'd just managed to tease a beaver out the damn, and looking forward to a few minutes to contemplate life, when I hear the dreaded knock on the door. In walks the cleaner, obviously sees the stall door locked, and makes a hasty retreat. But the moment is ruined and I always feel obliged to try and hurry things up, not like you can relax knowing somebody is outside waiting for you to finish anyways.

Rushed clean up job was probably inadequate, and going to be in a foul mood now for the rest of the day

Similar issue in my workplace.
An alarm must go off in the female cleaners heads when i walk in as there is usually a knock 2 minutes after i enter.
But because they are Female they have to be the alone whilst cleaning so shout ' IS THERE ANYBODY IN THERE!!?''
Now if i have just covered the intro to 'Blue Monday' with my arse i dont want to reply so my neighbour can identify my voice to the previous 2 minutes of sadness. he is probably in the same situation, so there is usually silence, cleaner comes in and sees doors locked and leaves and now I have do disrupt my process to finish up .
Thinking of an anonymous note to HR about it to move the cleaners schedules as it is very much affecting my work happiness.

gerrybbadd

In a bad way lads. Decided last night it would be a good idea to indulge in an aul Super Valu "Signature Tastes Spicy Chicken Arrabiata Stonebaked Sourdough Pizza".

Awoke to liquid guts. Gurgling, sounding somewhat like pipes overhead with water moving through them after someone has flushed a toilet. Foreboding perhaps.

Anyhow, all morning. Sourhole. Some of the red hot chilli peppers are the only things that are coming out solid. Zbigniew will not be pleased when he has to attend to my efforts later. I've a feeling he'll once again have the Mr. Muscle Sink & Plughole Unblocker fluid out.

EmmetSpiceland

gerrybbadd wrote: »

In a bad way lads. Decided last night it would be a good idea to indulge in an aul Super Valu "Signature Tastes Spicy Chicken Arrabiata Stonebaked Sourdough Pizza".

Awoke to liquid guts. Gurgling, sounding somewhat like pipes overhead with water moving through them after someone has flushed a toilet. Foreboding perhaps.

Anyhow, all morning. Sourhole. Some of the red hot chilli peppers are the only things that are coming out solid. Zbigniew will not be pleased when he has to attend to my efforts later. I've a feeling he'll once again have the Mr. Muscle Sink & Plughole Unblocker fluid out.

Classic case of “pizzarrhoea”, G. Had it myself not too long ago after a particularly oily, and spicy, pepperoni/meat feast type pizza.

Very unpleasant. The burning hole and the clear greasy deposit on the toilet roll is very, very, off-putting.

Hector Savage

I just had a bloody story typed out and the feckin page token had expired .... back doesn;t retrieve it either, f*ck that if im typing it again!!!

NeinNeinNein

Deleted User wrote: »

Ffs, have a load ready to go, headed up to the traps only to discover two lads on stepladders in front of the cubicles running wires from the office through the ceiling in the jacks. Looks like they will be there a while too.
I have two choices, risk keeping this on the clutch, or go down to the shop floor and use the dreaded public toilets. You never know what you'd face in the public toilets, when the cleaners get paged there, everyone subconsciously crosses themselves. Hopefully the clutch will hold for another while.

Suspicious, you sure they were legit? Might have been installing a hidden camera. Definitely up to no good anyway. Did you check their ids? Were the ladders industrial or the sort that would be on special in Woodies?