How (not) to skive school.

Most of the time, like most children my age, I hated school. Whilst I was a good boy and would not skive off the traditional manner by hanging round the shops or going to the park, when I wanted a day off school I would do my utmost to find a way to legitamize my skiving by faking illness. At least if I could convince my parents I should stay at home, I could watch TV and play computer games. My mother did not fall for the 'rubbing talcum powder into my face to make me look pale' technique, so I found something better: self-induced diarrhoea.

I am guessing I was around six years old at the time and my memory is vague, so I am not certain about how I came to formulate this plan but I do wonder what must have gone through my mind. Do you remember Fairy Liquid bottles as they were in the early 1980s? Rather than the nice small bottles that we have today, they were much larger long straight white bottles with a removable cap which when removed left an opening into the bottle about the same size as a modern five pence piece. The size of the neck of the bottle was key to my plan.

I took a Fairy Liquid bottle, removed the cap, and filled the bottle with warm water. Squatting in the bath with my trousers and pants lying on the bathroom floor, with one had I parted my cheeks and with the other I gently inserted the neck of the Fairy Liquid bottle into my rear-end. As I gently squeezed the bottle I felt the warm water rush into my rectum. Strangely enough, I remember the feeling to this day, and I enjoyed it somewhat. It surprised my how much water my arse could hold. As a side note, it seems strange typing this knowing that I was doing this as such a young child.

Everything I did next was carried out clenching my anus as tightly as I could. Carrying seemingly more water than a camel, I stashed the Fairy Liquid bottle, put my pants and trousers back around my ankles, sat on the toilet and let the water gush into the bowl. It was a thin, frothy, very pale-brown soup. And there was lots of it. All over the bowl. I called my mother, complained of a sore stomach, and showed her my 'diarrhoea'.

I don't really remember what happened next, but after recently confessing to my mother what had caused the diarrhoea she filled me in on the details. She drove me to our local doctor. The doctor referred me to the hospital. We went to the hospital and saw a doctor who also could not diagnose the symptoms. I left a stool sample (they needed to check for certain bacteria or disease) but they could not find anything wrong with me. The symptoms never returned, strangely enough.

I am typing this story as it is perhaps the earliest memory I have of me behaving in an abnormal way with faeces. My other half even wonders if this was the start of my inappropriate shit-related antics. Whilst it certainly got me a day off school, I didn't get to spend the day how I had planned. To be honest, I may has well have gone to school. Don't try this at home, kids.

Billy Hatcher and the Giant Egg

As mentioned in the earlier post I made about myself and this blog, most times I shat myself were accidental (see The Sicilian Pizza Trauma), but occasionally I did it on purpose. This is one of those times.

A few years ago (a quick check on Google says 2003... gosh, doesn't time fly?) a game called 'Billy Hatcher and the Giant Egg' was released for the Nintendo Gamecube videogame console. To save me typing, you can read more about the game here if you wish. I became almost addicted to this game and played it for several hours at a time. I was not living with my fiancee at this time, otherwise I very much doubt I would have been able to feed this addiction :)

Anyway, one lazy Saturday I was playing Billy Hatcher. I played for hours, and needed the toilet. I held on, and played. And played. And played some more. My stomach was getting sore, and the more I played the game the longer I spent sat clenching my buttocks to hold off the inevitable. The game was compelling, I was always thinking to myself "Oww, I'm desparate for the loo, but I'll just finish this little bit of the game" or "I can hold on for just another five minutes".

After holding it in for two or three hours it felt as if there was a battle taking place between my bowel and I, and my bowel was beginning to get its own way. Ladies and gentlemen, through a combination of an addiction to a video game and sheer laziness, I had 'touched cloth' - and still I did not get up to go to the toilet. I continued to play Billy Hatcher (just to reiterate, this was a really good game), and the turtle's head became a turtle's head and neck, and a short while later the pain in my stomach had gone. I had shit my pants.

A normal man would not do what I did next - but then again, a normal man wouldn't have shit his pants playing a video game. My girlfriend and I shared a common love of toilet humour so I called her on the phone to tell her what had happened. Between this incident and the aforementioned Sicilian Pizza incident about six years (and many arse accidents) had passed and this was the first time I had let anyone else into my little secret. My girlfriend took it well (well enough that she fell about laughing, and still does to this day) and she was the one who suggested that I share my stories. Without her, this blog wouldn't exist.