Getting caught short

Always carry a roll of garden refuse bags (strong ones) and a big bog roll in the van for
Such occasions bag over bucket, alchol gel
For your hands afterwards and deposit in the nearest bin!
 
I had one with a number 1 once where I needed a wee around the m6 toll junction southbound, I was headed m40 direction and decided to stop at the services after Hilton park services. I didn't realise then that it was 50 miles and there was a crash on the m6 so it took me 2 hours to get there. I was literally screaming down the m40 to Warwick services where I ran in and basically had everything out and flowing at the first urinal. Dont think I've ever had the urge to urinate so strongly in my life and it was painful.
 
Must confess to a number 1 accident.

Early morning flying out of Bristol airport on holiday with the missus.

Being the idiot i am, the idea of Stella at 6am is too good to resist.

Logic and reason sorted in my mind , all is fine - the logic being don't get drunk - the reason being - you wont be allowed to fly.

The thing i didn't take into account is i either don't have much of a bladder , or it just hates me.

Generally the first two pints just go straight though me, like flushing out a rusty barrel - straight in > straight out = no problems.

So after the initial flush out i knew i could pace myself for the next couple.

Come 8am and the flight is delayed for 30 minutes, most normal people would just sit back and chill, my bladder took that as a personal challenge ( by which time my head was goading it on ).

Another rushed pint and i was ready, so 5 Stellas in total with an airport cooked breakfast inside me, i was looking forward to a relaxed flight.

Another thing i hadn't taken into account was the sudden drop in temperature when you leave departure lounge and walk to the plane, it was ****ing freezing outside.

All of a sudden my bladder decided that it would punish me.

Got to our seats, remember the missus is with me, we put our baggage into the overheads etc

Still cold i thought i'd take a precautionry pre flight pee just in case, no show from Mr bladder.

Reassured by this, i started to relax in the knowledge that all was safe.

It must have been the ping sound over the intercom that really upset Mr Bladder, he clearly didn't want to listen to the flight crew safety anouncements or have a tight seatbelt put over him, but all hell broke loose.

I'd gone from semi-relaxed and looking forward to a kip to full bladder bursting in 2 seconds.

As much as i willed the cabin crew to skip bits, it didn't happen. Knowing full well that we had started moving anyway and you couldn't use the toilets for atleast another 5 minutes, my fate was set.

That moment when you give up the fight and just submit is reserved to people who have been there, mixed emotions covers it.

Looking back it is quite an achievement i managed to fully pee myself on a Thompson jet, sat right next to my missus and no-one noticed anything.

The covert usage of a jumper over the legs, combined with dark jeans - and i'd pulled it off.

I left my jeans in Turkey and had a nice holiday.

TLDR: It happens
 
Only ever got caught short needing a pee.

Few weeks ago I was travelling across the UK when I felt the urge to go. I’d needed a toilet for a while... saw a sign for services in 15 miles but before I could stop, the sat nag asked me to leave the safety of the motorway and I was on A roads heading toward Essex. I was truly clueless about when my next opportunity to stop would come. I must have travelled for 30 minutes before I saw a sign that said “services” and the toilet symbol.

I drove for what seemed like another 45 minutes (in reality 10 minutes) only to get off the A road and find a garage on the crest of the flyover... in panic, I saw lorries parked on the carriageway and failed to compute that it was not a services per se, but rather a small garage with no parking. The stationary vehicles should have given it away but I continued to drive around looking for something more akin to a services only to realise that it definitely was the place the sign referred to and that I’d have to stick the car on the road and walk. **** that, I thought and carried on back up the A road.

15 more minutes up the road and I’m now getting painfully uncomfortable and worried that I may actually wet myself. The more I travelled the more I’m convinced that there were no services and that I would be finished. In the end, I could hold it no more and pulled over on those lay-bys where lorries stop for a rest (the ones with a bin and an emergency phone).

As I pulled up it hit me that I’d never be able to conceal myself from the traffic and go “in public” without it being obvious, so I decided I’d try to slip in to the back seats of the car (tinted windows in the rear) and fill up an empty can of monster energy drink. I knelt on the back seats facing the rear window and commited to the plan believing that it was now or never.

Anyway, I concocted a plan to fire a stream in to the empty can which I’d then empty on the side of the road inconspicuously... all seemed to be going great until my bladder decided it contained the volume of a small storage vessel. I had to cut it off mid stream and crack the door open to pour out the contents THREE times over before it was finally over.

So glad was I to be relieved that when I got out of the car I’d failed to spot a guy arrive some time during pee-gate to conduct some repairs on the emergency telephone in front of my car. Obviously the front windscreen wasn’t tinted and I didn’t expect anyone travelling down the road to be able to see me, but it must have been obvious to him as he was no more than 10ft from the car and if he’d looked up he would have spotted me kneeling on the back seats.

I never said anything to him but rather just jumped in the car sharpish and left. The kicker was, I came across a services about 5 minutes down the road and just burst out laughing, thinking to myself that had I not stopped looking for the first one or pulled over in the lay-by I’d have stopped and made the stop comfortably!
 
My mate told me an awesome story. He was out in the town he lives in, needed to go so decided to head home. Unfortunately he bumped into one of his mother's older friends, a woman who likes to talk and talk - which she did for ages. My mate is too nice and was too polite to make excuses and so just stood grinning and nodding while she waffled on.

Eventually he had to let go in his pants, still nodding along. Then stood a few more minutes listening to her, with a tablespoon sized dollop sitting in his pants. Then had to waddle away as if nothing had happened.
 
EVH said:
Few weeks ago I was travelling across the UK when I felt the urge to go. I’d needed a toilet for a while... saw a sign for services in 15 miles but before I could stop, the sat nag asked me to leave the safety of the motorway and I was on A roads heading toward Essex. I was truly clueless about when my next opportunity to stop would come. I must have travelled for 30 minutes before I saw a sign that said “services” and the toilet symbol.

I drove for what seemed like another 45 minutes (in reality 10 minutes) only to get off the A road and find a garage on the crest of the flyover... in panic, I saw lorries parked on the carriageway and failed to compute that it was not a services per se, but rather a small garage with no parking. The stationary vehicles should have given it away but I continued to drive around looking for something more akin to a services only to realise that it definitely was the place the sign referred to and that I’d have to stick the car on the road and walk. **** that, I thought and carried on back up the A road.
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Reminds me of a time in the US I'd totally forgot about - was suffering a bit from dehydration after flying in and had drunk way too many glasses of water before heading out - got onto a nice long stretch of highway with nowhere appropriate to stop on the side just as the need to go hit and every gas station/services, etc. seemed to be closed, no longer existed or the toilets were out of action for mile after mile but I did manage to find somewhere in the end just about when I thought I couldn't hold it any longer.
 
I filled my britches in a club, on the dance floor once.

I'd had bad guts for a day or two and thought it had all cleared up when my then girlfriend and me went out for a meal with friends. I'd glugged a bottle of red wine and shortly later we were all in a club shaking our thang on the dance floor. It came without warning and I followed through. My underwear seemed able to cup and collect what was really just liquid, a disgusting puddle of a stinking diarrhea. You know how that **** smells, you can taste the smell. I didn't want to give the game away by marching off to the toilet straight away, so I spent another 5 minutes shuffling awkwardly on the dance floor and signalling to my girlfriend and friends "eww, is that you?" and "omg, can you smell that? gross!".

I made my excuses and squelched to the toilet. Once in the cubicle I hastily whipped my trousers and undercrackers down to find that my boxers had cradled this hideous mess perfectly. I had been so eager to dropped my trousers though, I hadn't removed my shoes. I didn't want to pull my kecks back up, so I had to perform this awkward balancing act of untying and removing one shoe at a time whilst not spilling the devil's stew that was swinging between my legs. Finally I had it all off and the "bag" of shame took several attempts to flush. I couldn't then go out and wash my arse and trousers in front of everyone at the sinks. So I spent the next 10mins shamelessly cupping water from the toilet basin to rinse my nipsy and clean the skids in my trousers.

Needless to say, not my finest hour.
 
On honeymoon in the Irish Republic. I have ulcerative colitis, and was suffering pretty badly at the time.

We had stopped to visit a local church to take some photos, but it was closed. Bad news for me, as I felt an attack of diarrhoea coming on.

With no loos available, I dashed into the graveyard behind the church, where I found a convenient corner at the intersection of two stone walls, thankfully obscured from view by a gentle slope and some generously proportioned gravestones.

I relieved myself promptly and efficiently, and had a good wash when we got back to our chalet.

EGuitarStar said:
So this is what GD has come to.
Click to expand...

GD was always like this, we're just more open about it now.

:p
 
I run a lot, and once in a while get runners 'runs. Looking for the nearest bush, the sense of relief, cleaning oneself with leaves. All part of the experience
 
Brizzles said:
Must confess to a number 1 accident.

Early morning flying out of Bristol airport on holiday with the missus.

Being the idiot i am, the idea of Stella at 6am is too good to resist.

Logic and reason sorted in my mind , all is fine - the logic being don't get drunk - the reason being - you wont be allowed to fly.

The thing i didn't take into account is i either don't have much of a bladder , or it just hates me.

Generally the first two pints just go straight though me, like flushing out a rusty barrel - straight in > straight out = no problems.

So after the initial flush out i knew i could pace myself for the next couple.

Come 8am and the flight is delayed for 30 minutes, most normal people would just sit back and chill, my bladder took that as a personal challenge ( by which time my head was goading it on ).

Another rushed pint and i was ready, so 5 Stellas in total with an airport cooked breakfast inside me, i was looking forward to a relaxed flight.

Another thing i hadn't taken into account was the sudden drop in temperature when you leave departure lounge and walk to the plane, it was ****ing freezing outside.

All of a sudden my bladder decided that it would punish me.

Got to our seats, remember the missus is with me, we put our baggage into the overheads etc

Still cold i thought i'd take a precautionry pre flight pee just in case, no show from Mr bladder.

Reassured by this, i started to relax in the knowledge that all was safe.

It must have been the ping sound over the intercom that really upset Mr Bladder, he clearly didn't want to listen to the flight crew safety anouncements or have a tight seatbelt put over him, but all hell broke loose.

I'd gone from semi-relaxed and looking forward to a kip to full bladder bursting in 2 seconds.

As much as i willed the cabin crew to skip bits, it didn't happen. Knowing full well that we had started moving anyway and you couldn't use the toilets for atleast another 5 minutes, my fate was set.

That moment when you give up the fight and just submit is reserved to people who have been there, mixed emotions covers it.

Looking back it is quite an achievement i managed to fully pee myself on a Thompson jet, sat right next to my missus and no-one noticed anything.

The covert usage of a jumper over the legs, combined with dark jeans - and i'd pulled it off.

I left my jeans in Turkey and had a nice holiday.

TLDR: It happens
Click to expand...

Surely your missus knew what you’d done? I’ve had some uncomfortable flights for all sorts of reasons but that must have been some nastyexperience sitting like that for the next couple of hours?
 
Never pooed myself in adulthood but I did come incredibly close to wetting myself a few years ago on the way to a match at Fulham after some pre-game drinks. I was in agony on the tube train and I had to get off at Parsons Green station because I seriously thought I was going to have an accident in front of everyone on the train. I then had the embarrassment of having to plead with a member of staff to let me use the staff toilet (there were no public ones available) and I felt like a two-year old, holding myself and hopping around whilst he took pity and let me use it.

What really peed me off though was that having avoided totally wet jeans by the narrowest of margins, I zipped up too soon and suffered that delayed dribble which left an embarrassing little wet patch for all to see!
 
TimTom said:
Surely your missus knew what you’d done? I’ve had some uncomfortable flights for all sorts of reasons but that must have been some nastyexperience sitting like that for the next couple of hours?
Click to expand...

She was, and still is, blissfully unaware of the incident :D

Numerous fake trips to the toilet to use paper towels did a pretty good job of drying over the 4 hour flight.

But lesson was learnt, and has not been repeated
 
RoboCod said:
I filled my britches in a club, on the dance floor once.

I'd had bad guts for a day or two and thought it had all cleared up when my then girlfriend and me went out for a meal with friends. I'd glugged a bottle of red wine and shortly later we were all in a club shaking our thang on the dance floor. It came without warning and I followed through. My underwear seemed able to cup and collect what was really just liquid, a disgusting puddle of a stinking diarrhea. You know how that **** smells, you can taste the smell. I didn't want to give the game away by marching off to the toilet straight away, so I spent another 5 minutes shuffling awkwardly on the dance floor and signalling to my girlfriend and friends "eww, is that you?" and "omg, can you smell that? gross!".

I made my excuses and squelched to the toilet. Once in the cubicle I hastily whipped my trousers and undercrackers down to find that my boxers had cradled this hideous mess perfectly. I had been so eager to dropped my trousers though, I hadn't removed my shoes. I didn't want to pull my kecks back up, so I had to perform this awkward balancing act of untying and removing one shoe at a time whilst not spilling the devil's stew that was swinging between my legs. Finally I had it all off and the "bag" of shame took several attempts to flush. I couldn't then go out and wash my arse and trousers in front of everyone at the sinks. So I spent the next 10mins shamelessly cupping water from the toilet basin to rinse my nipsy and clean the skids in my trousers.

Needless to say, not my finest hour.
Click to expand...


This is a MoH admission.
Sometimes GD takes you places you would never imagine.
 
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