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 …
am boweled over by Mr Buckleys pluck.
Catch him in the act, rub his nose in it and severly scald him with a rolled up newspaper.
Hozelock cloud-controlled sprinkler.
Motion detection alert on camera.
Give me an hour and a tap and I'll solve the problem for you.
And, with any luck, he - and his car - will light up like a Christmas tree when he walks into a police station.
Does Ireland have Crimewatch - if so, the dramatic reconstruction will be amazing, not to mention the sign-off: 'The Garda are on the lookout for a man with luminous buttocks' will be one for the history books.
We certainly do except it's called CrimeCall... Same concept almost exactly though.
Any similarity is mere coincidence!!
I wonder if he added a bit of .. stimulation .. and added electrification to the seat .. that would certainly help the overnight visitor evacuate himself fully. All in the name of helping someone in obvious need..
Super glue on the seat. Better survival rate. Then he can find out who it was, and why.....
And carefully positioned sachets of mustard under the seat to keep him warm on cold nights....
Carolina Reaper chili solution in squeezy bags under the seat with nozzles pointing upwards. He'd be pretty easy to identify for the next half hour at least; with the dancing and swearing and such.
Thank you for starting my Friday on a bizarrely humorous note.
You're not alone. From his description, it sounds like Mr. Buckley was left gasping for air, as well -- just in a different way.
visit for a turd time?
Meh! Sure half of you lot pronounce "th" as "f"
As in "Arfur is having a barf"
People in glass houses ...
Put the CCTV on Youtube. It'll either shame him or having him identify himself be demanding it be taken down.
Or inspire a herd of Tubetards to emulate him.
I had a similar problem a few years back with a phantom shitter leaving his doings outside my garage door. I suspect the culprit in both these cases might be a taxi driver. I put a stop to his little game in the end by installing gates at the end of my service road.
My God, you certainly know how to lay it on thick.
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.
In the 1980's someone sent a manager a turd in a jiffy bag at BAe Hatfield through the internal mail.
With todays technology DNA tests might well have been used to find the aerospacial excreter. See? We can play that game too.
That's really odd.
BAe usually deliver their turds to the MoD.
Not steeped in British slang, WTF is a forecourt khazi?
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.
Someone at my place of work neatly wrapped their turd and placed it in the bin on the top. This in the female toilet too! I never imagined I would ever have cause to mention this on the Reg comments section but there we go.
Do you mean neatly wrapped in toilet roll? Or are we talking wrapping paper and a nice ribbon?
I hear the police have nothing to go on either.
Really great article - even if it has nothing to do with techie news !
I bet you crapped yourself laughing when you wrote this !
You can take the Irishman out of the bog, but you can't take the bog out of the Irishman
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...
Stavanger golf club, Norway, has a mystery man who keeps shitting in the holes since 2005.
Although on reflection your use of the term 'holes' in this case will prevent confusion in case a non golfer reading it had thought that tournament winners in Norway were being handed trophies full of shit.....so well thought out you.
Obviously this 'dung dumper' completely lacks class.
If you MUST send someone a load of crap, then be absolutely stylish about it like
the queen of this trade, Sharon Osborne, and first buy a box from a jeweller :
...Finglas is a shithole.
Video, or it didn't happen!
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