Getting chastised for using the disabled shitter at work

[Guest Bill Stickers]

It's that time of year again! A summer nom from stickers about all things fecal!

I enjoyed disabled toilet. Metaphorically and literally.

When I'm taking a dump, or as 'sleeve would say, "taking the Brown family to the Super Bowl", I like some room to spread my 'roids out, and open up the day's broadsheet paper.

I'm partial to a lot of Thai curries, so my arsehole is always a dragon's nostril, and the smell more offensive than Anne Robinson's minkey.

Whilst everyone likes the smell of their own brand, as fat bastard famously said, the stench can be a bit much in a smaller, non-spacker cubicle.

But imagine my surprise when I waddled out of the special WC, only for some fucking do-gooder to try and bollock me. I'd barely mopped up my ringpiece before I was subjected to a meek protest by a bespectacled, insignificant little beetle.

I don't think she even worked there but had take it upon herself to monitor who accessed the shitter with keen interest. She informed me that my use of the cubicle was "illegal". I asked her whether she and the London Met really deemed it a police matter and criminal offence. The ludicrous nature of her statement didn't sink in and she continued her protest. 

I then less than politely informed her that the disabled toilet is merely equipped for disabled people, and not reserved exclusively for their use. I did recommend she use it in future though on account of being a braindead fucking vegetable. 

[camberwell gypsy]

You should have told her you're a war veteran who stood on a land mine and lost a leg and invite her to tap your false leg. If she goes to tap it pull it back and say "how fucking dare you. I left a leg in Helmand province for the likes of you, you fucking swamp donkey. Be off with you or I call a constable".

[Jiggerycock]

One always feels so much more at ease when using the disabled toilet.

There's the roominess of it for starters, which would have that predatory homosexual that presents 'Grand Designs' beating himself into a crimson froth.at the enterprising use of 'space'. Spreading the legs at an otherwise impossible 90 degrees, the air wofts around the nutsack, gooch and hoop in a most pleasing manner, rendering the user near orgasmic with delight.

The facilities are, generally, all en-suite too, enabling the worthy user to go about his ablutions in total privacy until ready to rejoin the Narnia-like world on the other side of the door, when he is good and ready.

There's never any shortage of loo roll in there. A Vegetarian Phall can be a whoreson binder of one's mighty stool and yet one is never short of a slice or two of Andrexes finest no matter how gargantuan the Dreadnought one has floated.

The committed Muslim may wax lyrical about Mecca. Hard men have apparently wept on viewing the ceiling of the Cistine Chapel and Japanese tourists that make up 95 % of the crowd, are rendered speechless when they go to their first home game at Old Trafford, yet nothing....NOTHING...beats the Shangri-La of an unencumbered, uninterrupted evacuation of the bowels in the Spackers Shithouse when one gets that rarest of chances.

[Guest nobgobbler]

And I always thought the shit smears on the bog seat and splashes up the walls in these flid crappers was due to the blue badge brigade being unable to perform in the normal manner. But it was just Stickers doing his usual. Shitty cunt.

[Decimus]

1 hour ago, Bill Stickers said:

I don't think she even worked there but had taken it upon herself to monitor who accessed the shitter with keen interest

 

10 minutes ago, nobgobbler said:

And I always thought the shit smears on the bog seat and splashes up the walls in these flid crappers was due to the blue badge brigade being unable to perform in the normal manner.

Gobbler, are you stalking Bill?

[Guest nobgobbler]

3 minutes ago, Decimus said:

 

Gobbler, are you stalking Bill?

If I was he'd be down the crapper head first.

[Jake The Muss]

1 hour ago, Bill Stickers said:

It's that time of year again! A summer nom from stickers about all things fecal!

I enjoyed disabled toilet. Metaphorically and literally.

When I'm taking a dump, or as 'sleeve would say, "taking the Brown family to the Super Bowl", I like some room to spread my 'roids out, and open up the day's broadsheet paper.

I'm partial to a lot of Thai curries, so my arsehole is always a dragon's nostril, and the smell more offensive than Anne Robinson's minkey.

Whilst everyone likes the smell of their own brand, as fat bastard famously said, the stench can be a bit much in a smaller, non-spacker cubicle.

But imagine my surprise when I waddled out of the special WC, only for some fucking do-gooder to try and bollock me. I'd barely mopped up my ringpiece before I was subjected to a meek protest by a bespectacled, insignificant little beetle.

I don't think she even worked there but had take it upon herself to monitor who accessed the shitter with keen interest. She informed me that my use of the cubicle was "illegal". I asked her whether she and the London Met really deemed it a police matter and criminal offence. The ludicrous nature of her statement didn't sink in and she continued her protest. 

I then less than politely informed her that the disabled toilet is merely equipped for disabled people, and not reserved exclusively for their use. I did recommend she use it in future though on account of being a braindead fucking vegetable. 

Can't see a problem here..as you have flidamitus spasadomas..get to the fucking quacks man..you need serious help..

[Guest Bill Stickers]

39 minutes ago, Jiggerycock said:

One always feels so much more at ease when using the disabled toilet.

There's the roominess of it for starters, which would have that predatory homosexual that presents 'Grand Designs' beating himself into a crimson froth.at the enterprising use of 'space'. Spreading the legs at an otherwise impossible 90 degrees, the air wofts around the nutsack, gooch and hoop in a most pleasing manner, rendering the user near orgasmic with delight.

The facilities are, generally, all en-suite too, enabling the worthy user to go about his ablutions in total privacy until ready to rejoin the Narnia-like world on the other side of the door, when he is good and ready.

There's never any shortage of loo roll in there. A Vegetarian Phall can be a whoreson binder of one's mighty stool and yet one is never short of a slice or two of Andrexes finest no matter how gargantuan the Dreadnought one has floated.

The committed Muslim may wax lyrical about Mecca. Hard men have apparently wept on viewing the ceiling of the Cistine Chapel and Japanese tourists that make up 95 % of the crowd, are rendered speechless when they go to their first home game at Old Trafford, yet nothing....NOTHING...beats the Shangri-La of an unencumbered, uninterrupted evacuation of the bowels in the Spackers Shithouse when one gets that rarest of chances.

You're a throwback to a different time jiggers. Oh how the world has changed.

Like me, you crave that golden-brown era... the long, hot, never ending summers, the halcyon days, the £5 all you can eat curry buffets at uncertified establishments.

Oh! Do you remember? Do you remember!? Back when one could shit in a Waitrose toilet without fear of persecution, molestation, or being gunned down by an Islamic nutter! When washing your hands was for commies and queers! 

Curling out a prostate tickler with your legs up on the baby changing facility, using the bog roll in a most decadent fashion, without worrying about the Amazon rainforest and that cunt Bono.

What have we become? Shitting in a dystopian 2x2 metre cube, no Andrex in sight, always ready to hand out an ID card to any Tom, Dick or Cunt on the prowl. 

I might have to end it all tonight with 100 laxatives in a 24 hour McDonald's. 

[Guest Quincy Cockfingers]

2 hours ago, Bill Stickers said:

It's that time of year again! A summer nom from stickers about all things fecal!

I enjoyed disabled toilet. Metaphorically and literally.

When I'm taking a dump, or as 'sleeve would say, "taking the Brown family to the Super Bowl", I like some room to spread my 'roids out, and open up the day's broadsheet paper.

I'm partial to a lot of Thai curries, so my arsehole is always a dragon's nostril, and the smell more offensive than Anne Robinson's minkey.

Whilst everyone likes the smell of their own brand, as fat bastard famously said, the stench can be a bit much in a smaller, non-spacker cubicle.

But imagine my surprise when I waddled out of the special WC, only for some fucking do-gooder to try and bollock me. I'd barely mopped up my ringpiece before I was subjected to a meek protest by a bespectacled, insignificant little beetle.

I don't think she even worked there but had take it upon herself to monitor who accessed the shitter with keen interest. She informed me that my use of the cubicle was "illegal". I asked her whether she and the London Met really deemed it a police matter and criminal offence. The ludicrous nature of her statement didn't sink in and she continued her protest. 

I then less than politely informed her that the disabled toilet is merely equipped for disabled people, and not reserved exclusively for their use. I did recommend she use it in future though on account of being a braindead fucking vegetable. 

I'm certainly surprised anyone batted an eyelid.

[Guest I know that Cunt]

I bet you're the cunting wanker that parks his fucking BMW / Transit in the disabled space outside B and fucking Q 

[nocti]

3 hours ago, Jiggerycock said:

One always feels so much more at ease when using the disabled toilet.

There's the roominess of it for starters, which would have that predatory homosexual that presents 'Grand Designs' beating himself into a crimson froth.at the enterprising use of 'space'. Spreading the legs at an otherwise impossible 90 degrees, the air wofts around the nutsack, gooch and hoop in a most pleasing manner, rendering the user near orgasmic with delight.

The facilities are, generally, all en-suite too, enabling the worthy user to go about his ablutions in total privacy until ready to rejoin the Narnia-like world on the other side of the door, when he is good and ready.

There's never any shortage of loo roll in there. A Vegetarian Phall can be a whoreson binder of one's mighty stool and yet one is never short of a slice or two of Andrexes finest no matter how gargantuan the Dreadnought one has floated.

The committed Muslim may wax lyrical about Mecca. Hard men have apparently wept on viewing the ceiling of the Cistine Chapel and Japanese tourists that make up 95 % of the crowd, are rendered speechless when they go to their first home game at Old Trafford, yet nothing....NOTHING...beats the Shangri-La of an unencumbered, uninterrupted evacuation of the bowels in the Spackers Shithouse when one gets that rarest of chances.

My eyes got all misty during that last paragraph, Jigs. I was on an emotional rollercoaster there, taken to all four corners of the globe in a heartbeat from the perspective of all races, creeds and genders that occupy them; shortly before being swiftly delivered safe and sound into the homely yet spacious of nests that is the spazbog. I could almost harness in my nostrils the faint whiff of freshly birthed shite and coriander for a moment, the sound of belming and wheelchair squeaks filling the air. Fucking magic.

[Guest Bill Stickers]

24 minutes ago, I know that Cunt said:

I bet you're the cunting wanker that parks his fucking BMW / Transit in the disabled space outside B and fucking Q 

No, because disabled bays are for the sole use of badge holders. I clearly explained this, although I'll make allowances because you are a mouth breather. Disabled bogs are equipped for the disabled, but not for their sole use.

So don't worry, I won't be taking your parking space any time soon. Enjoy building your own custom Stannha Chair Lift with materials from B & Q. 

[Guest I know that Cunt]

4 minutes ago, Bill Stickers said:

No, because disabled bays are for the sole use of badge holders. I clearly explained this, although I'll make allowances because you are a mouth breather. Disabled bogs are equipped for the disabled, but not for their sole use.

So don't worry, I won't be taking your parking space any time soon. Enjoy building your own custom Stannha Chair Lift with materials from B & Q. 

Where in your post did you mention parking spaces twatucks? By the way, its Stannah, not stannha and if I was as spazzy as you I would buy one, but I'm not so fuck off you fat cunt

[Bubba C]

Cracking nom, Bill, and I'm fully supportive of your cause that anyone can use these facilities, especially as they're generally the only place you can have a dump other than your own throne where you aren't subjected to grunts, pants and smells of other dirty cunts. To add further weight to your mission, I've noticed that they're starting to be labelled as 'Accessible Toilets', either because spackers took offence, or because they are accessible to all, raspberry ripple or able bodied.

However, I do have a few questions.

Where the fuck do you work if random people are allowed to wander in off the street to act as self-appointed toilet monitors?

Secondly, why lie about reading a broadsheet? The Express is a slightly less retarded Daily Star.

Finally, did you kill the cheeky cunt who accosted you? And if not, why not? 

[Guest Bill Stickers]

37 minutes ago, I know that Cunt said:

Where in your post did you mention parking spaces twatucks? By the way, its Stannah, not stannha and if I was as spazzy as you I would buy one, but I'm not so fuck off you fat cunt

You'll need to rephrase that. I'm only able to speak fluent bollocks after 8 pints and I've only had 7. 

[Jiggerycock]

3 hours ago, Bill Stickers said:

You're a throwback to a different time jiggers. Oh how the world has changed.

Like me, you crave that golden-brown era... the long, hot, never ending summers, the halcyon days, the £5 all you can eat curry buffets at uncertified establishments.

Oh! Do you remember? Do you remember!? Back when one could shit in a Waitrose toilet without fear of persecution, molestation, or being gunned down by an Islamic nutter! When washing your hands was for commies and queers! 

Curling out a prostate tickler with your legs up on the baby changing facility, using the bog roll in a most decadent fashion, without worrying about the Amazon rainforest and that cunt Bono.

What have we become? Shitting in a dystopian 2x2 metre cube, no Andrex in sight, always ready to hand out an ID card to any Tom, Dick or Cunt on the prowl. 

I might have to end it all tonight with 100 laxatives in a 24 hour McDonald's. 

It's a cunt on a popsicle stick isn't it?

Euston Station is the worst.

I don't know if human piss has aphrodisiac qualities but the quality and quantity of perverted graffiti decorating the walls of the cublicles would seem to indicate there is a link - more so when said micturate is peppered liberally around the seat, in fact anywhere bar the pan.

And so our hero - doing a weird Mr Whippy fandango as he attempts to curl one out, whilst hovering to avoid contamination with seat (see previous para.) goes about his business, only to discover (trousers mid-mast, turtles head describing a parabola of the most lissom of proportions as it heads to it's watery grave) the door has sprung open, necessitating a braced left leg to keep it shut, whilst maintaining 'hover', like a Chinook attempting a landing on Ark Royal in a force 10 gale.

The soundtrack to this weird yoga? The saddest sound in the world - that of two ageing cottagers going about their rancid frotterings in the next door pen.

..... and there you pretty much have it. A scenario more desolate and heart-rending than Morrissey harvesting his own organs on webcam, singing 'How Soon Is Now.....wanking....

[Guest I know that Cunt]

1 hour ago, Bill Stickers said:

You'll need to rephrase that. I'm only able to speak fluent bollocks after 8 pints and I've only had 7. 

Really, by the look of the total shit you have written, you must be on at least 10 pints