A tale to be told.

Hi, today you're in for a treat. Usually this is just a "machine gun" blog... By that I mean that usually I'm just holding my machine gun (blog) in one hand firing insanely into the air whilst yammering " AY YA YA YA YA YA YA YA" attempting to hit something of interest, or something humourous at the very least. I guess your laughter is similar to the killing of infidels (or at least low flying birds, bats, people on hang-gliders and other air-based, flight-able creatures) if I were to continue with the analogy. But not today! No, not today my friends. For today is a day for telling stories. I want to bring you a story that happened to a friend of a friend of mine.... Sit back, relax, dim the lights a little, have a little red wine, scratch yourself and enjoy... Before I go any further I'll tell you that I'm taking poetic licence with the names of the characters involved and I'm not 100% sure on the details of times and place names to the nth degree but otherwise this is a 110% true story.... Ok, go through your relaxation bit again and enjoy....

It all started when Chris and Jane decided to let Chris choose lunch. It was their last day in Spain and they were heading out in just a few short hours, flying off to London, England for the last week of their European holiday. They had enjoyed Spain and it was Chris' turn to choose the restaurant, so he in true Aussie male style chose something not Spanish at all and opted for Indian.

We fast forward a few hours later and Chris and Jane are waiting for the plane. Now this is one of those "go to it, 'cos we can't be stuffed getting it to come to you" type airports where you get to walk out onto the tarmac and climb the stairs to the plane. As the couple headed for their plane across the tarmac, Chris felt a bit of a rumbling in his stomach. This intensified with each step, so much so that they reached the stairs and at this moment, with one hand holding the stairs he doubled over in pain and signaled the air hostess.

"Sir, are you feeling alright?", she inquired, coming back down the stairs toward him, glancing at him, then at the 70 odd queue of passengers behind him, then back at him.

"Hun?", Jane chimed in, always the caring wife.

"I think I ate a little something funny... I'll be alright, I just need... Oh... Oh NO. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh".

It was at this stage that Chris began to defecate himself. And when I say defecate himself, I mean he emptied his bowels in his pants. He pooed, he crapped, he soiled.

The line of passengers boarding the plane stood still, staring. Jane stood beside Chris looking wide-eyed at her doubled over husband, pooing his pants and repeatedly saying "Sorrrrryyyyy.... Aggggghhhhhhhhhhhh".

People could begin to see fecal matter seeping out the ends of his long pants, filling and eventually spilling out of his shoes.

At this point no one knew what to do. Chris had finished, Jane stood looking at her husband like a deer in headlights, some passengers looking away, others were practically rolling around on the tarmac laughing whilst the entire planes crew including the pilot had gathered at the top of the stairs to watch a grown man become the mayor of brown town on the airports tarmac. Time stood still. All of Chris and Jane's clothing was in their luggage, placed onto the plane already.

Time unfroze and a few of the crew brought Chris his luggage, and a few towels to hold up around him so he could remove his ruined attire. Other crew members motioned the other passengers onto the plane, shuffling past a red faced, brown clothed, toilet smelling man and a wife that couldn't quite look anyone in the eye.

They had to bin Chris' clothing, throwing out even his crap filled shoes and eventually getting Chris and Jane onto the plane an hour and a half later than when it should have taken off.

It was a long and smelly trip to London for Chris and Jane, particularly as everyone in the plane continued to give them both looks. From time to time an air-hostess would come along the aisle and spray something into the air, and every 20 minutes Chris would feel a rumble in his stomach, let out an exclamation of "Oh no!" and run up the aisle to the toilets getting there just in time to relieve himself in the appropriate facilities.