EEEEEWWW! As you Americans would say...

Hard to top that one.

However, here's one from my Navy flying days.

During the '70s & '80s we were required to wear ventilated wet suits under the standard nomex flight suits when flying in winter conditions (when the sea water temperature was below 60 deg F.) This contraption was constructed like the basic flight suit with a two way zipper running from collar to crotch. The ensemble was bulky and uncomfortable in the extreme and the rather thick wet suit had a formidable zipper with large teeth.

The so called "relief tube" for pilots (all male then) was a thin rubber tube connected to a venturi discharge and equipped with a conical cup at the service end about 3" in diameter. The technique was to extract, aim, fill the cup, and, as it were, piss on the world. All this was seriously complicated by the bulky wet suit and of course the penis-eating, killer zipper. In a cramped cockpit it took time, agility and determination to get the apparatus out undamaged, and aim properly while holding the cup and flying the damn plane.

One night, at the end of a long mission, I entered the marshal holding pattern awaiting my turn in descending for a night landing aboard the carrier. Having an expected 10 minute delay I decided to eliminate a certain physical distraction before the sometimes challenging night approach & carrier landing. I wriggled around in the darkness, extracting the precious member through the zippered hazards, holding the cup with one hand, the precious member in the other, and the stick between my knees to keep the aircraft level.

Just as I was relaxing into full flow rate the unexpected radio instruction came "Shamrock 402, start your approach NOW". Not a moment to spare, drop the cup, grab the controls, pop the speedbrake and nose over for the approach, more or less as I was.

Now a night carrier landing, particularly in poor weather and with a rough sea, can be a bit tension-making. Worse all one's squadron buddies who aren't on this particular mission are watching the approaches and landings in the ready rooms on TV just for the entertainment value. Death is an awful prospect, but public embarrassment is worse. On the way down as I dropped the landing gear & flaps and readied for the final approach I futilely tried to put things back undamaged where they had been but without success, given the need to also fly the aircraft. I became preoccupied with the unusual configuration of my person and the thought that if I crash, what will they find and what will they think? Stupid thought but there it was as I flew a so-so, but successful approach to an arrested landing. Happily there was time, after taxiing the aircraft out of the landing area, to unstrap and return things to their normal place before climbing out of the aircraft in a more or less wasted emotional state.

Lord Ellpus and georgeob1......

I couldn't get through either of your posts without a chuckle. Very amusing indeed. I can just picture it. I don't want to, but I can just picture it. :-)
I have nothing to offer in your league.

A colleague of mine told me a story that happened to him recently where he used a urinal, a guy walked in and looked at him in a funny way.My friend finished , he went to the sink to wash his hands and in the reflection in the mirror he noticed more urinals.
What he'd actually done was wee in the kids hand basin.

Any port in a storm!

A couple of years ago, I was in a stall in a bathroom of a restaurant sitting quietly, minding my own business, when in walked a father and son. The boy, about 4 or so had clearly never encountered a urinal. While his father did his business on one side of the partition, the lad scratched his head for a moment... dropped trou... and hopped, ass first onto the porcelain. ( I could see through a crack between the stall door and frame)
Dad peers over, and starts howling in laughter.
The brave young pup starts screaming at his dad to stop bothering him.
At this point, I could no longer supress my own howls and frightened them both out of the restroom.

You had to be there...

You guys are gonna hate this one.

After i got out of the Army, i worked in hospital emergency rooms for a while, faut de mieux. I was working at a small but crucial regional trauma center, which was then being radically expanded with state money. One of the construction crew was brought in with a very serious, and, i am sad to relate, to us very hilarious injury. We did manage, however, to look properly serious in the presence of the patient.

It seems that the site foreman was a right bastard, and the workers both feared and despised him. One of the boys had the call of nature, but didn't want to go to the "port-a-potty" by the trailer, so, while joking with his fellow workers, he pulled willy out for a little fresh air, and with appropriately lewd remarks and boasts about the size of his member, he laid it on a sawbuck while urinating, and put his hands behind his head. One of the other workers, on an i-beam two stories above, thought it would be a great joke to threaten to drop a two-by-four on the saw buck. His companion objected, and tried to grab the two-by-four, at which point he lost his grip, dropping the two-by-four.

You see it coming don't you--as god is wont to do in such situations, his aim could not have been truer. We were told that the two-by-four landed so perfectly aligned with the top of the sawbuck, that at first, the boys on the ground level could not see what was causing their fellow worker to scream in a continuous wail like an old fashioned siren.

Fortunately, this qualifies as soft tissue damage, and the most permanent effect was humiliation.

There must be an adage in this story, but I 'm not sure how to frame it.

"Don't trusrt your willy to a sawbuck" ? ...No

"Cast your bread on the waters, but not your willy on a board"... No.

Something! There's potential there.

Where there's a willy, there's a weight?

You got me there Setanta. How can I be sore at you now?

I'm sure i can come up with something.

Thats two! I'm sure you will.

Now I'll have to get even.

Have a good day.

OK, people...this thread has only been going a short while and already we have some wonderful grossness going on.
MARVELLOUS!

I will now relay to you, something that happened to one of my brother's French employees, but it is not for the faint hearted, so If one is at this time preparing a meal, please look the other way.

Before coming to Eastern France, Pascal had lived in Paris for several years, married a girl there and was working hard to become an accepted member of her quite close knit family.
A very common custom in France is to hold a dinner at someone's home, but the guests all choose which "course" they are going to prepare and bring to the function.
One couple will bring the "starters", another couple will bring the main course etc etc.
He and his wife were invited to her parents apartment for a big family meal one evening, and they were designated to bring the main course.
They chose to do a Boeuf Bourgignon, cooked it in a large casserole dish, and took it with them.
They had to pick up their 13 year old niece on the way, as she wouldnt be able to fit in her dads car, due to the fact that the back seats were filled with plumbing equipment ready for a job the following day (as you guessed, the dad was a plumber).
They arrived at the parents apartment block in good time, and went up to the fourth floor apartment by means of a typical french lift (elevator), which just about holds four people at a pinch.
All the family were there, and a great time was had by all, but Pascal began to feel unwell at about 10pm, so they retrieved the now empty and cleaned casserole dish, grabbed the niece and made their excuses.
The lift descended for a couple of seconds and stopped, having broken down. The building caretaker was called for, and arrived after fifteen minutes, but couldnt fix the damn thing.
By this stage, Pascal was becoming desperate to go to the loo. His stomach was griping and he knew that he had to find a "sit down" toilet quickly.
The caretaker called for the Sapeur Pompiers (Firemen) and had been told that they would be at least twenty minutes. So Pascal did what he still calls to this day, the most embarrassing thing he has ever done.
He asked his wife (not so bad) and his 13 year old neice (eeeeewwww) to turn around and face the wall.
He then crouched down and <ahem>......crapped into the casserole dish, and could hear squeals of laughter coming from outside.
As the lift had only gone down half a floor, the rest of the french family (who were all slightly drunk) took great delight in taking turns to look through the glass window in the door, so that they could see the new addition to the family defacating into kitchenware.
The mother in law then turned up on the scene, and thankfully ushered them all away.
He cleaned himself up, put the lid back on the dish, and when finally freed by the firemen, hastily walked outside and carefully placed the dish (he says it was almost filled to the brim) upright into a full garbage bin (you know, the big ones they use for apartments) and went home.
His "incident" in a funny way, bonded him closely to his new french family, and he was fully accepted from that day. But they never let him forget.

A funny postscript to this sad story is that the caretaker was a grumpy old sod, and was very unhelpful to the residents. He was not aware of what Pascal had to do in the lift, so consequently was very pleased when he found a brand new looking casserole dish sitting on the top of the bin the following day.
Apparently he picked it up and covered himself in recycled Boeuf Bourgignon.

Bows...

heehee ok let's see. i have two short ones.

i remember a few years ago, i was 13 i think, iwas sat at home practicing guitar when my mother and a few friends came home from a night out. all very drunk they sat in the front room and watched some tv. now in the dining room (where i was situated, away from the drunken hugging and 'haven't you got big' from her friends) there were these wicker chairs, big things they were, very comfy. anyway, one of my mum's friends enters the room in a sorry state and doesn't even notice i'm there, she then proceeds to take down her jeans and underwear (i turned round at this point, i was a shy lad and went red straight away *awww*) and sat on the wicker seat. the sounds i heard from behind me gave me the idea that maybe she thought she had wondered into the bathroom. as the chair was wicker she urinated straight through it, otherwise she may have realised her mistake. she then got up and went out of the room, blissfully unaware, while i had to wait till morning to tell my (now sober and very hungover) mum that she had to clean the carpet.

the other one is more EWWWWWW......while at a toga party w friend of mine called paul decided his toga would make a better nappy, so he wrapped it round himself to fashion one. he then proceeded to defacate into said toga/nappy/spare bedsheet to prove that his nappy was a success. now my friends can be silly sometimes and, after seeing how far paul had gone, decided to take it further, by daring him to make a sandwich from the contents of the nappy and eat as much of it as he could. i think he actually got to the third bite before he ran outside and threw up.

Ohhhh you guys....this is just great...

I've just remembered one I heard from a friend who came to visit while I was in France.
She is English and her husband comes from Boston (Bahstin, as he would say....very strange accent...half American, half Scottish by the sound of it)

Anyway, we were all drunk round the table one night, and she told us of an incident she had with one of her old boyfriends, years ago.
She had invited him to spend the night (for the first time) and they retired to bed after having enjoyed a nice meal and a couple of bottles of wine.

They had only been going out with each other for a few weeks, and she really liked the guy, so she was very nervous about the whole thing.

After the abominable act was endured a couple of times, they both rolled over and went to sleep.
She woke about an hour later, and realised that she had suffered an attack of the galloping horsemen of the rear end variety, and went into a panic.

Nudging him gently, she asked him to get out of bed, not look round, face the wall and not to ask any questions.
She hurriedly scooped up the bedsheets, raced off to the bathroom and sorted herself out, got some clean sheets, came back in and made the bed.
He was then allowed to get into bed, and they both went back off to sleep.

About an hour or so later, it happened again. She nudged him, and asked if he wouldn't mind getting out of bed and facing the wall once more.
He replied "Oh no, you haven't sh*t yourself again, have you?"