Senior moments

swizzle

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Out of pure paranoia I always have plastic bag and some bog roll in my tackle bags, this comes from having a turd at a lake once 'off the beaten track' only to here a few hours later that someone had stamped in it. I could hear the shouting across the lake, I was mortified but held my silence. So I started to carry the plastic bag with me, with the thought that if I have to go, I can drop one in the bag along with the roll and take it with me when I leave, don't want to leave another trap for someone, and certainly not litter. Anyway, I got caught short one time, and despite the epic struggle of trying to hold on, nature eventually one I HAD TO GO. I waddle in to the bushes, drop me cacks and hold the bag up to my arse, you can normally feel your handiwork as a log drops into the bag, this time nothing, which was strange, I proceed to wipe, only to notice that there was a turd nestled gently in my underwear by my ankles, the bag had a hole in the bottom and I never checked it. I must admit that I froze, didn't have any idea what to do. In the end I gingerly removed my legs from my clothes, rolled the turd up in the boxers and disposed of them in the ditch. I went home. This is the first time I have shared my troubles with anyone. Somehow it's easier telling people you have never seen. One chalked off to. Youthful inexperience.
 
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That's unfortunate.

The technique is to only pull your undies and trousers down to your knees then you can poo without fear of dropping a log into your undies (but checkout for your hood). This is a hard lesson learned I can tell you.

Also, poo on the ground then pick it up with the bag, don't try to catch it.

Alternatively take s trowel and bury it.
 

Harvey

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Out of pure paranoia I always have plastic bag and some bog roll in my tackle bags, this comes from having a turd at a lake once 'off the beaten track' only to here a few hours later that someone had stamped in it. I could hear the shouting across the lake, I was mortified but held my silence. So I started to carry the plastic bag with me, with the thought that if I have to go, I can drop one in the bag along with the roll and take it with me when I leave, don't want to leave another trap for someone, and certainly not litter. Anyway, I got caught short one time, and despite the epic struggle of trying to hold on, nature eventually one I HAD TO GO. I waddle in to the bushes, drop me cacks and hold the bag up to my arse, you can normally feel your handiwork as a log drops into the bag, this time nothing, which was strange, I proceed to wipe, only to notice that there was a turd nestled gently in my underwear by my ankles, the bag had a hole in the bottom and I never checked it. I must admit that I froze, didn't have any idea what to do. In the end I gingerly removed my legs from my clothes, rolled the turd up in the boxers and disposed of them in the ditch. I went home. This is the first time I have shared my troubles with anyone. Somehow it's easier telling people you have never seen. One chalked off to. Youthful inexperience.
Frank Barlow, after an unfortunate visit to an indian restaurant the night before, managed to fill the hood of his one-piece-hood-attached fishing suit. While taking part in a match. Hard to beat that one.
 
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