I want to make a confession in today's post. This is
something I have never told anyone, partly due to the embarrassment of the
situation I found myself in. However, everything always comes out eventually
and what better platform to do it on than this. Enjoy.
It was a pleasant spring day at the tender age of 15 and the
usual Saturday routine of hanging about in town with a big group of friends was
on the cards, alas only two friends showed up on this particular day. Into the
local Sainsburys I went for the usual
post-lunch snack, on offer was a large packet of shortbread which I promptly
bought and stuffed my face with to the point that I felt sick.
Stuck for an activity to keep us entertained for the
afternoon we decided, for some unknown reason, to film a tennis ball floating
along the river starting at one end of the town all the way to the other end of
town. Although surprisingly fun, this activity involved a lot of running around
which, on top of the vast amount of shortbread and soft drinks I had consumed, caused quite an upset in my bowels. Throughout the day my two friends
complained excessively about the foul
stenches erupting from my trousers, I was in a bad state.
Towards the end of the day about 40 minutes left until our
bus home, the tennis ball was rounding it's last corner before it left our
wonderful town. Being a top film company we decided to get two angles of it
entering the home straight so my two co-workers took up position on one side of
the river and I nestled into a nice little spot on the opposite side. After a day
of running around this last film position was very relaxing. Too relaxing.
Another rumble of the stomach and I let out a rancid fart. "A little moist" I thought to myself "better be careful".
Still waiting for the tennis ball, I adjusted my position slightly and as I did so I had a
horrible realisation that I hadn't just farted, I had fired my torpedoes in a
catastrophic friendly fire incident. This was a disaster. I had followed
through for the first time in my life and didn't know what to do.
I didn't let on, I got the footage I needed and shouted to
my friends that there was something I'd forgotten to do and that I'd meet them
at the bus stop. I squelched my way to the nearest public toilets. First and
foremost I emptied myself out, banishing the rest of the demons to the porcelain
prison. I cleaned my rear and my boxers up as best I could but there's only so
much that dry toilet paper can do. A fierce smell still surrounded me which
needed to be covered up. I had spent all my money apart from my bus fare so I couldn't
go buy anything to help ease the situation. Time was ticking, my bus would
leave in 5 minutes. I debated ringing my parents instead of getting on the bus
but that would have opened up a
difficult conversation I was not prepared to have. My phone buzzed with a text from
my friend saying that the bus would leave soon, I had to think under pressure.
I decided to make a run for the bus, en route I had a
brainwave, ducked down a side street and smeared some grime from a gutter down
the backside of my jeans. I made it to the bus just in time and sat down next
to my friend "Christ you stink" he said, "yeah that last place I
was sitting in... I sat in dog crap, I've been up at the toilets trying to wash
it off." I stood up and showed him my jeans assuming that he didn't want to
inspect my arse too closely. He'd bought it, a convincing cover story. I arrived
home and sprinted through the living room and straight to my bedroom where the
offending pants were put straight into a bin bag. The only uncharacteristic
action my parents noticed was me emptying my bin. I was in the clear. All
washed up, I lay down on my bed physically and emotionally exhausted. The
shortbread I had consumed that day was made in Scotland and I have loathed the
Scottish ever since.
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