I, for one..
am boweled over by Mr Buckleys pluck.
A desperate Dublin shopkeeper has placed a toilet and a pile of his very competitvely priced bog roll on the pavement outside his shop after a series of visits from a loose boweled night owl. Alan Buckley was forced to install the curb-side crapper outside his Clever Buys outlet in Finglas, because “someone keeps coming up and …
I only say that because once, in my misspent youth, I got ripped off by the local fish-and-chippery, who gave me change for a $10 when I'd given her a $20 (which was a lot to a lad fresh out of home in those days) - and then yelled abuse at me when I challenged her on it.
So later that night, I gave them back their very expensive fish and chips...in an organically processed state of course. Athough unlike this likely lad I didn't just dump it on the doorstep; I was a lot more diabolical than that. I did my business in a shopping bag and used the bag to methodically squish and smear the poo into the door lock, handle, and every hard-to-reach crevice I could find.
The smell hung around for days, and I dare say the cleanup and loss of business cost that woman a lot more than the $10 she filched from me!
So seeing this story of course immediately reminded me of that deed, thus it made me wonder if the mystery jobber thought he'd been shortchanged by the shopkeeper...
Lenny Henry did a routine saying that someone once wrote "Go home you fucking cone" on his door in shit.
As he said, not only racist slurs, but geometric ones too.
He then went on to wonder, did they bring the shit in advance, or did the guy's mates hold him up as he was shitting, and sort of write on the door with his arse? In which case spelling coon as cone would be entirely understandable.
"I got ripped off by the local fish-and-chippery, who gave me change for a $10 when I'd given her a $20"
I had a similar short changing problem once in a nearby Chinese takeaway that I used quite regularly - probably once a fortnight. After a brief exchange in which the woman insisted I'd given her a smaller note than I had, I simply said I would never again give them my custom - and all these years later, I still haven't.
Something else I've never given them is my excrement. That's just vile.
Mind you, I didn't get any abuse yelled at me, so perhaps I would have given them some waste product if I had received any abuse.
No, no, I very much doubt I would.
I have seen the exact opposite of that problem in a Spar Supermarket many years ago.
They had a sign that said check your change as mistakes can't be rectified after you have left the shop.
The man ahead of me bought something got his change and walked out stopped and checked his change twice looked confused and came back to say he had been given the wrong change. The girl behind the check out was quite nasty and abusive to him insisting that she could do anything about it.
He pulled a £50 note out of the change she had given him and said you mean I can keep this then and walked out of the shop. The look on her face was priceless.
Somone once shat upon my office building. A nice thing to find first thing - the day after Boxing day, when I wasn't exactly eager to be at work at all. The snow was pretty heavy that year. And there was a low sill round the whole building below the ground floor windows, that we used to sit on when outside smoking.
Obviously our Chrimbo Crapper was desperate, as it must have been pretty nippy whenever he did it. And he'd also not been eating too well, as it wasn't a nice consistency either. The turd had sort of run off the flat sill, and started to ooze down the wall, when it had frozen in place, about a foot above ground level.
Amazingly, the turd had frozen solid to the wall, but you could still smell it from halfway across the carpark.
Ho Ho Ho!
We used to have someone we called the mad shitter at a place i worked. He would go into the men's; leave a load mashed against the partition walls and then leave. I don't know if they ever figured out who it was and got rid of them or if they got over whatever their problem was. Most of us started using the loo on a different floor of the building.
Er... Forecourt....small area of land outside a building.
EG: Garage Forecourt or Petrol Station Forecourt.
Er...Khazi...Toilet, Crapper, John, Head, Bog.
In reality, it would appear that the Shopkeeper has placed a Potty outside his premises in an attempt to prevent the nocturnal soiling of his shop doorway.
Then why not hand over copies of the footage to the cops & have the shitty bastard arrested?
Did you see the face? Get a good look at the car? Capture the plate code? Because any/all of that can help in catching the foul freak.
Failing that, wait in the shadows for the turd tumbler to come back & start to leave another one. While he's got his pants down around his ankles you can beat the shit out of him with a Wiffleball bat until he goes unconscious, then take pictures of his face. Bonus points for taking his photo ID out of his wallet & setting it face up on his chin for the snapshot. That way you can make a couple thousand photocopies & post the results around town with the caption "This Shit Takes Dumps In Public!" or some such. Whatever it takes to name & shame the fucker. If the cops can't catch him then maybe a pissed off mob of pitchfork, burning brands, & buckets of pitch weilding locals can help.
My local cops "were unable to locate the alleged individual" even though I gave them copies of the footage showing the son of a bitch doing the deed. I waited for him to come back, clubbed the sense out of him with a Wiffleball Bat, took the aforementioned pictures with his head beside the turd, & then shared copies of the "BEWARE OF THIS MAN!" poster's around town. It took less than 48 hours after having done so that the slimeball was in police custody having turned himself in. Turned out his own parents forced him with either going in voluntarily or being dragged in by his own balls. His dad came to my house to appollogize for his son's behavior & hoped I wouldn't sue the parents for it. I said I wouldn't but that I *would* file charges against the son. Dad said he didn't care. "I've washed my hands of the little fucking waste."
Good. Let him rot in jail while the head shrinkers have a field day analyzing his ass. (Ow, sorry, pun not intended, I swear!)...
So nonlethally knock the guy out & take his picture with his own driver's license on his chin next to the turd. Once the public learns that the bastard does this kind of antisocial behavior...
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