Describe your last shite with a film title.

[Smooth Operator 10]

Volcano!

[The Fish 10858]

Ghost

[Howmanheyman 33267]

Resident Evil

[Meenzer 15552]

Downfall

[Howmanheyman 33267]

Talking of shite, there used to be a manager of a place I worked whose nickname was 'The Northumbrian Piper'. When I asked why, it turned out he had a colostamy bag in his stomach and he used to fiddle about with it like Katherine Tyckell or whatever she was called.

[Vince 0]

Seven Pounds

[jonasjuice 0]

Panic Room

[Monkeys Fist 42459]

The Remains of the Day

[The Fish 10858]

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

[JonGoodwyn 1]

Gone in 60 seconds

[luckyluke 2]

True Grit

[Meenzer 15552]

Mamma Mia!

[luckyluke 2]

The Unforgiven.

 

Funny that TGTBATU is amongst the first suggestions. I suppose everything could be classified as such -shits, shags, pets, daughters...

Edited January 29, 2012 by luckyluke

[Davey Dave 0]

Tora tora tora!

[Kevin S. Assilleekunt 1]

I have just been writing down what I can remember of my experiences in Poland so I don't forget them, and I made a visit to a public toilet which provided an interesting contrast to the public toilets in this country. I realised as I was writing it it may be appropriate for this thread, so I have slightly exaggerated some parts, and hopefully it is an entertaining contribution:

 

 

I walked up to a large castle, I'm not sure what exactly it was, and nor did I care. It was becoming clear that I was going to have to find somewhere to defecate quickly or end up suffering internal injuries. There were some builders doing work in a trench at the front of the building, and a footpath behind it which led to an entrance with a sign that included a picture of a 'toalety'. I hurriedly scuttled to the door, but alas it was locked. I made my way to the other side of the building, thinking perhaps the doors there would be open. It was early afternoon and there were plenty of visitors around, surely the toilets would be open. No luck, all the doors were shut. I made my way down the long path descending into the city. Things were becoming desperate. I was scanning every area I passed for possible dumping grounds: the large bush on the grass behind the couple having a picnic; the old telephone box; the recycling bin down the alleyway. It was too crowded, there would be witnesses. Finally I stumbled upon a public toilet. I made my way down the steps, not knowing what to expect; the public toilets in England are needle infested breeding grounds for AIDs and venereal diseases. To my pleasant surprise, the place was in good repair, but there was a booth with an attendant and a 1 zloty charge. I fumbled around for the money and paid the man in the booth. He was a short, plump man in his 40s with a sour face like a bulldog, obviously the result of many years where he had spent most of the day sat in a booth monitoring an underground toilet. There was one toilet bowl, the door located directly adjacent to the attendant's booth. It was obvious that the thin wall wasn't soundproofed, but I could not risk going back into the street and taking the time to find somehwere else. I rushed in and straddled the bowl, bracing myself for the oncoming cacophony. Maybe it won't be so loud, I thought. But it was. Very loud. It sounded like a 20 man jazz band whose improv session was interrupted by an Al Quaeda suicide bomb attack. I put each hand on either wall to steady myself as the inital blast came, and when it was over clasped them together and prayed for it to end as I caught my breath. After about 15 minutes, and several waves of these blasts, the ordeal was over. I fully expected to be greeted by the police when I opened the door. There was only one toilet cubicle and I had been in it for 15 minutes, what if there is a time limit? I had heard some mumbling outside the door during the moments when the noise from my arse subsided. I decided the best option was to march quickly out and back up to the street. As I left I glanced over my shoulder and noticed the attendant had vacated his booth.

Edited January 30, 2012 by Kevin S. Assilleekunt

[jonasjuice 0]

Brown Sugar

[Monkeys Fist 42459]

I have just been writing down what I can remember of my experiences in Poland so I don't forget them, and I made a visit to a public toilet which provided an interesting contrast to the public toilets in this country. I realised as I was writing it it may be appropriate for this thread, so I have slightly exaggerated some parts, and hopefully it is an entertaining contribution:

 

 

I walked up to a large castle, I'm not sure what exactly it was, and nor did I care. It was becoming clear that I was going to have to find somewhere to defecate quickly or end up suffering internal injuries. There were some builders doing work in a trench at the front of the building, and a footpath behind it which led to an entrance with a sign that included a picture of a 'toalety'. I hurriedly scuttled to the door, but alas it was locked. I made my way to the other side of the building, thinking perhaps the doors there would be open. It was early afternoon and there were plenty of visitors around, surely the toilets would be open. No luck, all the doors were shut. I made my way down the long path descending into the city. Things were becoming desperate. I was scanning every area I passed for possible dumping grounds: the large bush on the grass behind the couple having a picnic; the old telephone box; the recycling bin down the alleyway. It was too crowded, there would be witnesses. Finally I stumbled upon a public toilet. I made my way down the steps, not knowing what to expect; the public toilets in England are needle infested breeding grounds for AIDs and venereal diseases. To my pleasant surprise, the place was in good repair, but there was a booth with an attendant and a 1 zloty charge. I fumbled around for the money and paid the man in the booth. He was a short, plump man in his 40s with a sour face like a bulldog, obviously the result of many years where he had spent most of the day sat in a booth monitoring an underground toilet. There was one toilet bowl, the door located directly adjacent to the attendant's booth. It was obvious that the thin wall wasn't soundproofed, but I could not risk going back into the street and taking the time to find somehwere else. I rushed in and straddled the bowl, bracing myself for the oncoming cacophony. Maybe it won't be so loud, I thought. But it was. Very loud. It sounded like a 20 man jazz band whose improv session was interrupted by an Al Quaeda suicide bomb attack. I put each hand on either wall to steady myself as the inital blast came, and when it was over clasped them together and prayed for it to end as I caught my breath. After about 15 minutes, and several waves of these blasts, the ordeal was over. I fully expected to be greeted by the police when I opened the door. There was only one toilet cubicle and I had been in it for 15 minutes, what if there is a time limit? I had heard some mumbling outside the door during the moments when the noise from my arse subsided. I decided the best option was to march quickly out and back up to the street. As I left I glanced over my shoulder and noticed the attendant had vacated his booth.

Schindlers Shits.

[Meenzer 15552]

I have just been writing down what I can remember of my experiences in Poland so I don't forget them, and I made a visit to a public toilet which provided an interesting contrast to the public toilets in this country. I realised as I was writing it it may be appropriate for this thread, so I have slightly exaggerated some parts, and hopefully it is an entertaining contribution:

 

 

I walked up to a large castle, I'm not sure what exactly it was, and nor did I care. It was becoming clear that I was going to have to find somewhere to defecate quickly or end up suffering internal injuries. There were some builders doing work in a trench at the front of the building, and a footpath behind it which led to an entrance with a sign that included a picture of a 'toalety'. I hurriedly scuttled to the door, but alas it was locked. I made my way to the other side of the building, thinking perhaps the doors there would be open. It was early afternoon and there were plenty of visitors around, surely the toilets would be open. No luck, all the doors were shut. I made my way down the long path descending into the city. Things were becoming desperate. I was scanning every area I passed for possible dumping grounds: the large bush on the grass behind the couple having a picnic; the old telephone box; the recycling bin down the alleyway. It was too crowded, there would be witnesses. Finally I stumbled upon a public toilet. I made my way down the steps, not knowing what to expect; the public toilets in England are needle infested breeding grounds for AIDs and venereal diseases. To my pleasant surprise, the place was in good repair, but there was a booth with an attendant and a 1 zloty charge. I fumbled around for the money and paid the man in the booth. He was a short, plump man in his 40s with a sour face like a bulldog, obviously the result of many years where he had spent most of the day sat in a booth monitoring an underground toilet. There was one toilet bowl, the door located directly adjacent to the attendant's booth. It was obvious that the thin wall wasn't soundproofed, but I could not risk going back into the street and taking the time to find somehwere else. I rushed in and straddled the bowl, bracing myself for the oncoming cacophony. Maybe it won't be so loud, I thought. But it was. Very loud. It sounded like a 20 man jazz band whose improv session was interrupted by an Al Quaeda suicide bomb attack. I put each hand on either wall to steady myself as the inital blast came, and when it was over clasped them together and prayed for it to end as I caught my breath. After about 15 minutes, and several waves of these blasts, the ordeal was over. I fully expected to be greeted by the police when I opened the door. There was only one toilet cubicle and I had been in it for 15 minutes, what if there is a time limit? I had heard some mumbling outside the door during the moments when the noise from my arse subsided. I decided the best option was to march quickly out and back up to the street. As I left I glanced over my shoulder and noticed the attendant had vacated his booth.

Schindlers Shits.

 

Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close

[Gemmill 44935]

The Fissure King

[Meenzer 15552]

Nice.

[Jusoda Kid 1]

Weekend at bernies

[PaddockLad 17284]

The unbearable lightness of being

[Brock Manson 0]

Dambusters.

[The Fish 10858]

Hobo with a Shotgun

[Gemmill 44935]

Black Dynamite.