A guest post from T-Bag. This was originally a comment from the Redbeard post but was deemed so funny by Greasy that it should be posted in it own right and made open for comment.

Not necessarily a "redbeard" story but a worthy one that needs to be told. It involves some spew, some shit, a cat and a moose.

Once upon a time, on a tour of sorts, a group of well bred gentlemen embarked on the annual tour Moose-Hunt at the local disco of this town under seige. The aim of the hunt was to target, contact and copulate with a moose. Typical hunt rules apply with the gentlemen with the heaviest beast shot (or tagged, being a much more PC alternative these days)being named the eventual winner (all taggings must be witnessed by an official).

Being a seasoned veteran of large game hunting I made my selection early, to avoid the 3.00 am rush. Record breaking moose can, on occasion, be a timid animal with many hours of reassurance in the form of alcohol-based moose tranquillisers called lemon ruskis. I knew my efforts would be rewarded when the mammoth head was mounted on my wall. It was in the bag.

I did fear however for MY ability to "seal the deal" for she truly was a moose of hideous proportions. I did as any committed man should and proceeded to pour the sickly-sweet tranquilliser down my own throat, 3 to her 1. This indeed had the required result and soon my physical advances became more fluid as the inhibitor kicked in and did it's job.

Let it be known that large game hunting can be a dangerous pastime so one should always have a solid, trustworthy wing man, who will also act as witness to the shoot. One who is by far too hideous and un-couth to tag themselves a big one. For this job I employed the services of a lovable, if slightly rough, larakin. Lets name him Bob for his own protection.

Soon the ugly lights were deployed and the 3 of us (Me, moosey and Bob) piled into a cab and headed for it's lair. This cab ride seemed to go on forever. Not only due to the geographical distance to it's home but my 4 or 5 vomit stops on the way. Yes, my record attempt was looking shaky due to the copious amounts I rammed down my neck.

6 hours later (so it seemed) as the sun cracked it's arse accross the pre-dawn sky we arrived at a house in the middle of fucken no-where, like deliverence in the desert. She assured me she lived there alone and had no brothers who enjoy forcing others into partaking in bum fun at gun point. My unease was sated for the moment. Not wanting to stuff-around any more I insisted we retire to the den before the aclohol poisoning got the better of me or worse, I sobered up. Moosey prepared a makeshift bed for Bob out of some straw, pillows and a Doonah, on the lounge room floor. We then retired for the night.

The next few hours were a blur all I can recall to this day is the loss of feeling from the waist down like someone had parked a B-double on my crotch. There was also a feeling of asphixia in there somewhere before passing out completely.

Upon waking the first thing to hit me was the heat, so hot, then the smell, then the buzzing of the flies. Oh my God what have I gotten myself into. I squinted and glanced accross at the moose, who at this point was looking more like a hybrid wilderbeast/hippo, a wilderpotamus. Luckily it was facing away and all I could see was a fleshy mass resembling the great flesh wall of China. The game hunt was the furtherest thing from my mind and winning was no longer a priority, I just hoped I'd lost on a technicality, like NOT HAVING SEX.

I rolled the other way and my face slid in a pool of something not unlike newborn baby shit, but with more chunks. Well, if an innocent bed-spew is the worst thing that happens to me today I'll count myself lucky. I lifted the sheet to inspect the damage below, mainly checking to see if Mr Peckerwood (who as it happened looked more like pork-crackling than genitailia) was wearing the sponsors product. He wasn't, it was in the massive pool of shit beneath my arse and between my thighs. I panicked, not because I was covered in shit, we've all been there, but I might get caught.

I slid out from between the sheets and crab-walked my way to the en-suite bathroom. Not wanting to wake her with the shower I proceeded to wipe myself clean with her towel whilst cupping water from the sink. I was ghost-like as I retrieved my clothes from the floor and left the room to find Bob ramming the doonah beneath moosey's sofa.

The conversation that followed went like this:

Me: "Bob what are you doing, did you shit the bed too?"

Bob: "No the cat."

Me: "The cat shit the bed?"

Bob: "No it kept waking me and rubbing it's fucken head on me all night."

Me: "Yeah so?"

Bob: "So I punched it, I think it's dead. Stupid C*&^T of a thing, I warned it!"

Me: "Oh for fucks sake let's just get out of here."

I called a cab on her phone and set off down the road to meet it. We then realised neither of us had any money. So we did the only gentlemanly thing to do and snuck back into her house and stole $20 from her purse.

IT'S amazing how shallow women can be sometimes.

The Greasy Pig was at the pub one night with an accomplice and he started chatting up an older lass who would forever become known as 'Deep Throat' Queen for obvious reasons.

Anyway, she brushed me initially but then my accomplice grabbed her and started telling her I had a massive schlong.

Well didn't her attitude change after that! She was all over me like a rash.

Had I been sober I would have done the runner but I was blind and she was willing to accommodate me. So we get back to her place and down to business.

Here she was dreaming about a monster dick that had its own heart and lungs but she was most disappointed when GP dropped his strides and, in the great tradition of Al Pacino, said, "Say hello to my little friend!"

She took a long look and said, "I thought it would be bigger."

Some men might be offended by such a remark but GP just kept on truckin' and gave her the time of her life.

What's the old saying?... "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog."

THE Greasy Pig never apologises – not even when he broke the great Wayne Carey’s nose during a spa-bath scuffle in 1999.

And he said, "Get stuffed!" to Anthony Mundine when "The Man" had his drink knocked out of his hand.

But I feel I have to apologise to everyone out there for my slackness in writing my musings and rantings.

I went on a month’s holiday to film the next big thing in porno: "Arse Pirates of the Caribbean – Curse of the Greasy Pig".

Keira Knightley agreed to reprise her role from the more 'mainstream' "Pirates" franchise and appear in this big-budget flick.

Pity her tits weren’t as big as the budget – she looked like a 12-year-old boy…..from the front and behind!

But still, she literally begged to be cast in the sequel: "Butthole Buccaneers – Davey Jones Wants to Cock 'Er".

Unfortunately, filming for "Arse Pirates" was cut short due to the Greasy Pig having a Steve Irwin-esque experience while on the set in the deep north of the country.

But no, he didn’t get attacked by a bastard stingray, he simply got caught with the director’s missus in a compromising position.

The GP’s explanation he got stung on the cock by a stingray and she was 'just sucking the poison out' didn’t quite cut it so he was sent home.

Anyway, I’m back.

There’s gonna be more farts, including a 14 second one "The Stink" ripped off just recently.

It’s so good it’ll bring tears to your eyes.

There’s another one that sounds like a Harley ticking over which will have you reaching for that box of tissues you suspiciously always keep beside your bed.

There have also been calls for more explicit content so hold on to your hats you bastards.

There’ll be stories galore to make you shake your head in disgust, put your hands over the kiddies’ eyes and seek counselling.

Keep in touch and for fuck’s sake, stay hetero. Love GP.

In it's heyday in the mid to late 1990s and even into the early 2000s, Marbles was simply out of control.

The Greasy Pig went to Marbles again a couple of weeks ago and was woken up by a bouncer in the carpark.

Not because he was so drunk (this time), but because it was so fuggin boring!

There would have been 100 people there and of that, only about 40 had wobbly chests.

And of that 40, there were only 20 you'd seriously consider swapping DNA with.

In the good ol' days, you couldn't move in the Cacko.

Thousands of sweaty, drunken men and women all came together to make it a truly memorable day.

There were so many people they used to close off Caxton Street to have a street parade.

But amid all the heaving, large-breasted women and the dickhead drunks, there was a group of men who stood taller and prouder than a honeymooner's dick.

They were the Travellin' Fats.

A group of men thrown together by circumstance but bound by one creed:

"Drink till ya piss yourself and vomit outta your nose."

The Fats were Marbles.

We had the best outfits, the best drinkers and the best war cries.

We won the best cheer squad in 1999 which was the same year the Greasy Pig got permission from six, that's right, SIX women to either show him their breasts or let him feel them.

Sorry if my girlfriend at the time is reading this but I was on fire!!! And I didn't enjoy it..... sort of.

That was also the year a certain drunken redhead bought $20 worth of chicken chippees from Hepatitis Harry's.

Anyway, the Fats, when they weren't purposely pissing their pants, had a number of chants and cheers and I'd like to share some of these for posterity. The Fats' songs

I wish “I wish I was a Punk Rocker” by Mandi Thom would just piss off and die a horrible death.

I say this for a number of reasons.

If you really listen, I mean REALLY listen, to the lyrics, they are utter crap!

It’s like she made up the words to this drivel while sitting in a public shithouse in Redfern reading the bloody toilet wall graffiti.

I’ve heard a bunch of drunken arseholes going by the name Travellin’ Fats come up with waaaay better lyrics to far more appealing songs.

Who could forget that famous song, “Oh when the Fats go marching in…..suck on my fat, you dirty rat!” Pure poetry!!

Or the timeless classic, “Get your tits out for the boys!” A real crowd pleaser.

Then of course that family favourite, “Charlotte the Harlot”. The kiddies love that one.

I’m also ranting about Sandi Thom’s piece of crap because it’s going to make her filthy rich because it has a catchy tune.

But the actual lyrics are nonsensical and childish.

Firstly, name one…ONE….punk rocker who wore flowers in his hair?

If you take punk rocker as a literal, you’re talking about the Sex Pistols or The Clash.

If you were singing about punk rockers such as these, you would be saying, “I wish I was a punk rocker, with safety pins in my face”.

No self-respecting punk rocker would be seen dead with flowers in his hair so why does Sandi Thom think she can make a parallel with some pot-smoking hippie and a drown-in-your-own-vomit punk rocker?

And also, how can people sing along or listen to this crap song and not realise punk rockers don’t put flowers in their hair?

Is the Greasy Pig the only person in the country who can see through this shit?

Sid Vicious hated flowers.

One sordid evening in a London underground sex party, he and the Greasy Pig were enjoying a few cleansing ales and the company of some lovely young ladies with purple hair and black fingernails who begged Sid to vomit on them.

It was pure punk culture.

Then some wag ran up to Sid and said, “Oi Sid, what do you reckon about putting these flowers in your hair at your next ….”

Before he could finish, Sid had glassed the poor bugger in the face and shoved the flower up the eye of the bloke’s dick. Ouch.

So along comes Sandi Thom with a catchy tune but she just can’t quite make, “I wish I was hippie rocker with flowers in my hair” fit in with the music.

Hmmm, what are you gonna do Sandi? I know, why don’t you just throw the first monosyllabic musical word you can think of in there and just release the song.

And what about the line, “Footballers still had long hair and dirt upon their face.”

Hasn’t she ever seen a modern football game of any sort in her life?

Every weekend you can see footballers running out with long hair and mullets. Take Kane Cleal at Manly or Hawthorn’s Joel Smith or the Wallabies’ George Smith!

Sandi Thom has proven herself to be very talented….very talented at being a brain-dead dimwit unable to think of anything other than the crap lyrics she and every friggin radio station are forcing into our eardrums every day.

Take a stand, fight back. Phone the radio stations and put forward this point of view. Spread the word. Don’t hold back.

Maybe I can release a no.1 hit with the same tune…..

I WISH I WAS A GREASY PIG, WITH LADIES IN MY BED

FIRST OF ALL WE’D 69 AND THEN THEY’D GIVE ME HEAD

I DON’T KNOW THEIR NAMES, I DON’T CARE WHAT THEY SAID

OH I WISH I WAS A GREASY PIG, WITH LADIES IN MY BED

The Greasy Pig thought he'd done very well by convincing a young lady to break her New Years resolution not to have any more one-night-stands.

She was fairly attractive and funny so they went back to hers and got down to business.

Anyway, the next morning, GP woke up sicker than 10 men after a big night of piss-drinking and pleasuring the young woman.

He staggered out into the girl's lounge room and there was a bloke sitting there eating Weet-Bix. It turned out to be her little brother.

The two blokes made smalltalk and the brother bummed a smoke.

Apart from the fact the GP had just been engaged in his very own porn movie with this bloke's sister, he was pretty cool.

Anyway, the lucky young woman soon emerged and said her friend was coming over and she could drop me off at my little brother's place.

Perfect!

The friend arrived and the GP and his mistress jumped in the car.

The Pig was in the back seat and regularly leaned forward to make conversation with the girls during the 15 minute car ride.

All was sweet, they dropped him off, he waved goodbye and ran upstairs into his brother's room.

He ran in and woke his bro up, “Ha ha, I got laid last night.”

Little-GP rubbed his eyes and woke up and said with a puzzled look on his face, “Did you get in a fight or something last night?”

“No,” I replied.

“Did you hit your mouth on something or what? There's blood or something on your face!”

The GP ran to the bathroom mirror and screamed a cry of anguish that could be heard across 10 suburbs.

All over his chin and mouth was the unmistakable traces of dark-red blood.

Knowing he hadn't been in a blue, GP realised the girl he had been with the night before was obviously having her period.

It was menstrual blood!! Aaargh!!!!!

He feverishly scrubbed it off and was forced to listen to Little-GP piss himself laughing at the situation.

There are a number of factors to consider in this story.

1. The chick must have known she was either A) on her monthlies and didn't tell GP; or B) Knew her period was due but still went ahead and let the GP 'put the beard on' during the act of foreplay.

2. Her brother must have also seen the red stain on GP's chin the next morning when he bummed a smoke but he, too, chose to say nothing.

3. The girl herself would have seen it the next morning when she saw GP and again, she chose to say nothing either.

4. The girl's friend must have seen it as well and also chose to say nothing.

But before anyone passes judgment on this 'foreplay faux pas' and before everyone starts calling me Redbeard, just remember, I can name at least five other blokes I know who this has happened to so be careful.

So instead of giving me shit, why not share your own horror stories in the comment section you gutless bastards!!!!

• http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/4748292.stm

A Sudanese man has been forced to take a goat as his "wife", after he was caught having sex with the animal.

The goat's owner, Mr Alifi, said he surprised the man with his goat and took him to a council of elders.

They ordered the man, Mr Tombe, to pay a dowry of 15,000 Sudanese dinars ($50) to Mr Alifi.

"We have given him the goat, and as far as we know they are still together," Mr Alifi said.

Mr Alifi, Hai Malakal in Upper Nile State, told the Juba Post newspaper that he heard a loud noise around midnight on 13 February and immediately rushed outside to find Mr Tombe with his goat.

"When I asked him: 'What are you doing there?', he fell off the back of the goat, so I captured and tied him up".

Mr Alifi then called elders to decide how to deal with the case.

"They said I should not take him to the police, but rather let him pay a dowry for my goat because he used it as his wife," Mr Alifi told the newspaper.

The Greasy Pig was in Sydney a few years back following a baseball team to the national grand final.

The local boys beat the Sydneysiders and the Pig joined the players for an evening of post-win frivolity.

One thing led to another and GP plus a few of the younger players arrived back at the hotel around 7am.

Just before everyone retired to bed, one of the lads noticed one of his teammates’ breakfast – complete with one of those stainless steel lids – had been left outside his door.

Feeling a bit peckish, the baseballer happily tucked into a good feed of bacon and eggs but still felt that while this act was low in itself, he needed to something even worse to really make a statement.

With that, he dropped his strides and proceeded to lay a great steaming turd on the breakfast plate.

Then he carefully replaced the stainless steel lid and waited for the inevitable ruckus.

It came around 8am when the victim, hungover and eager to tuck in to a big greasy feed of bacon and eggs, gleefully grabbed his breakfast tray and removed the lid only to find a great big grogan.

The poor bastard remembers this incident like a Vietnam vet recalling the most horrific of battles.

I guess you could say he was... struck out.

You get ridiculed for sweating all the time and sometimes you produce odours which cannot be helped.

One day, GP and some mates jumped at the chance to accompany one of their dads on a four-wheel drive tour through the deep north which we dubbed, "4WD Fever" (actually saying 'double u' and 'dee', not four-wheel drive because we thought, erroneously, it sounded cool).

Up to Cooktown, west through the old mining towns of Laura and Maytown and then back to Cairns.

This takes in some of the roughest terrain in Australia and we were very excited. But the Greasy Pig loves his sleep and often found himself drifting off in the car instead of taking in the bush scenery.

Unfortunately, I fell asleep on a particularly rough section of "road" and I remained asleep even as we bounced up and down sheer cliff faces.

It was only when I smacked my head hard on the dashboard and then the passenger window on the recoil that I woke up amid the cruel laughter of the others in the car. But the Greasy Pig had his revenge...

I owned a pair of Lacoste sneakers which were my most prized possession at that young age but to put it bluntly, they stunk like they had been soaking in a sewage pond for two weeks, worn without socks in three marathons and then burnt.

I couldn’t smell them from my position in the front but the wankers in the back copped the full force.

They only put up with it for one day though and ended up tying the offensive sandshoes to the tow-ball at the back.

Bastards!

I got em back though by cocking the rim of their stubbies when they weren’t looking. Tee hee.

The Greasy Pig thought all his Christmases had come at once the other night but once again, he managed to tread on his own cock while wearing running spikes.

GP found himself in the company of a beautiful woman, a model no less, and he was on fire. This bird was loving every word that escaped his mouth. Each syllable was like the tune to her favourite song and every bead of sweat on his nervous brow and showing through his shirt from his armpits was like a powerful aphrodisiac.

But the time came for the love-struck pair to part ways and, in his smoothest James Bond manner, the Pig pulled out his wallet with the intent of giving the young hottie his business card with his email address on it.

With the sort of anticipation only the thoughts of doing the horizontal folk dance with a model can bring, Greasy Pig reached for a card but the same slot in his wallet his cards were kept in, also contained a condom.

So as he suavely began to pull a card out and, you guessed it, out popped Mr Condom as well.

There’s nothing you can really say in that situation to smooth things over although one of my comrades had it happen to him and ended up sleeping with the girl that night!!

I don’t think model girl will be getting in touch though…..

Oh well, her loss.

GP.

One evening the midget was out on the prowl as usual and manage to pick up one of those lovely ladies he is normally associated with. So he has managed to convince one to come home with him for a bit of extra curriculum activity if you know what i mean.

Anyway in between the hot and steamy love making the midget needed to go to the bathroom urgently so he told the fat chick to stay in bed he will be back in a minute.

So midget went to bathroom and sat down and had a nasty shit after a big nite on the piss. Then he had a thought "I'm not going to wipe". He went back to bed and continued to make love to the well rounded young lady when he whispered a sweet nothing in her ear, "Do you know what really turns me on? When a chick licks my ass".

So the lovely young lady obliged and licked the midgets ass SHIT AND ALL and hence the name was born: midget and fat chick.

Story is true on all accounts

Signed

MIDGET AND FAT CHICK

This particular incident almost caused justifiable homicide to be carried out on the perpetrator.

A group of lads were working in the fields and used to enjoy a swim in an irrigation canal during their lunch break.

One day it was particularly hot and the boys bolted down to the canal only to find one of their mates already in their squatting down up to his neck seemingly lapping up the cool refreshment of the water.

But as one of the guys started running towards the water, the guy already in there suddenly jumped up with two handfuls of his own shit and pegged both barrels.

"Whoflungdung" didn't miss either as great lumps of shit spattered across the victim's chest like shrapnel on some poor bastard out of Saving Private Ryan.

Understandably, the victim had to be quite strongly restrained or he would have killed Mr Whoflungdung but shit it was funny.

• http://fecalgram.com

So this is interesting. Imagine being able to send someone a turd in the post! "That greasy pig character, he pissed me off - I think I'll just shit in a box and send it off, par avion." But it gets better. "Oh no, I'm too good for that, I'll pay money and have someone turd in a box for me."

Well you can at http://fecalgram.com/. Or at least you could - they are closed for business now. So for now, you'd have to do the work your own self. But that puts a personal touch on it, doesn't it?

My favourite question from their FAQ

Can I order one with corn/peanuts/peas/beans in it?

Almost everyone has a shitting story and I invite others to share theirs with the group. Not their shit, just the stories thanks. send them to articles [at] thegreasypig [dot] com

This one happened a little while ago at that great institution known as the Rockhampton B&S Ball.

No single event has inspired more truly disgusting acts of human depravity and hardcore piss drinking than this.

Our man was just beginning his day at the Recovery - which is the day after the main Ball and entails drinking as much beer as you can between the hours of 11am and 4pm.

As he walked in the gate around 11am, this bloke decided to drop his guts but in doing so, he drew mud.

But instead of wasting valuable drinking time to go clean up, he just started drinking while his arse cheeks were full of brown smelly liquid.

84 beers and eight hours later and our gallant hero still hadn't washed up but, as you can imagine, he had chafe worse than a Roman centurion on a 40km march through the Sahara.

His problems were compounded by the fact the stomach acids contained in the vile liquid had actually eaten away around his butthole and his inner butt cheeks.

Things eventually got so bad, bouncers later found our hero washing his arse out under one of those taps you find on urinals in pubs.

That was fuggin funny.

The Fart

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Critique

This fart is ripped off with a lack of enthusiasm and indifference that says "come you bastards, send in some of your own farts for fuck's sake!"

Well, the Greasy Pig outdid himself at the weekend.

Once again, he went out and wrote himself off with good mate Obi Wan Kenobi and once again he stuffed his face full of pizza.

Then, to top it all off, he crapped himself the following afternoon.

No, it wasn't what's commonly referred to as a "shart" (a fart that becomes a shit); it wasn't a mere follow-through when he tried to drop his guts, it was a full eruption of post-big-night-out crapola.

To make matters worse, it happened in the workplace.

To make matters even more worse, he wasn't wearing jocks.

GP felt the first pangs of a big crap struggling for liberation about halfway through a one hour car journey.

But he wasn't concerned. He'd felt far greater needs to find a shitter before and managed to hold on.

But the seething mass contained in his lower intestine refused to take no for an answer.

It was quite possible his body just had to eject its payload because it was so offensive.

Anyway, with each red traffic light, GP's need became greater but he was determined not to lose this battle because a loss would be diabolical.

He sped through the streets, not bothering to indicate around corners and putting his little car sideways on the home turn.

He got to work, ran to the door, unlocked it....shit! Have to turn the alarm off.

He did that but as he half-ran half-hobbled to the ablutions block, his churning guts gave way and unleashed a torrent of vile mashed potato-like poo into his underpantless shorts.

If you can picture the greasy pig loping towards the toilet with his hand covering his arse trying to stop the shit from falling out the bottom of his shorts, you'll know it was pretty funny.

The true horror unfolded when he gingerly pulled down his strides. It was bad.

Luckily there was a shower at work (which will never be the same again) and lucky he was the only bastard in there on a Sunday or things would have been really, really bad.

One thing which is somewhat concerning is it's not the first time it has happened to the Pig...in the past four months.

By the way, the shorts were washed in the shower but they have since been cremated....RIP.

I’ve had 13 car accidents – all of them minor (apart from the time I nearly died but that was nothin’) - and I’m still kickin’. Of those 13 accidents, a few of them involved my boss’s company car.

Once, I decided to it would be a good idea to drive it onto a beach. I then had to call him and get him to winch me out with his four wheel drive.

Another time, I grabbed the car under the auspices of going out to do a job but really I was slipping home for some more time on the Nintendo to play Mortal Kombat. I then fell asleep on the couch and realised I’d been out of the office for two hours.

In my rush to get back to work, I scraped the boss’s car along my front fence as I backed out. Can you see me trying to explain that one? I managed to but….

Another time, I was late for work (again) and in my haste to park, I reversed straight into the boss’s car…..HARD. My boss heard the smash, came out and said something to me I’ll never forget purely because it was heartfelt. “You fuckwit! Did you ever watch that show, "Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em?"... Well you're fucking Frank Spencer!”

Stay tuned for more car accidents from the vault!

A few of the boys were working in the cotton fields out west for a couple of weeks when one of them really needed to take a crap. There are no toilets in the middle of a cotton field so he just squatted behind a cotton tree.

As it turned out, this turd was huge. So big, in fact, he had to call some of the other lads over to check it out (as you do).

What they saw was a grogan of about 40 centimetres (about 15 inches in the old measure) long but the funniest bit about it was that it was thick at either end and skinny in the middle. When the boys pointed this out, the shitter explained the skinny part was where he had tried to clench his arsehole to break the turd off but it was so hard that it just kept pushing through the narrower opening therefore creating a skinny part in the middle.

One night in Brisbane, a few of us got together to have dinner with one of the boys' new girlfriends. I'd never met her before and I was starving so I was looking forward to not only a good night out but also a really massive feed. To my dismay, the boys decided to go to a Thai restaurant which didn't exactly fit my desires for a huge meal.

Instead of just ordering more rice or spring rolls, I kicked up an almighty stink. But hey, hunger will do that to a man. I swore, I sulked, I yelled, I denigrated Asian food and Asian people. It was a sight to behold.

It would have been funny but I wondered why the boys weren't more good-natured when they were telling me to shut the fuck up. I had forgotten about my mate's new girlfriend in my rantings and she was standing there with the sort of look on her face you have when seeing a footballer's leg break in slow-mo.

To make things worse, after I'd calmed down, the Thai joint was shut! So I went off again. We eventually got to another restaurant famous for its pizzas and the size of its meals and I was happy. To satisfy my hunger, I ate about 4 slices of garlic pizza, a spaghetti carbonara and 12 slices of supreme and hawaiian pizza.

I could have stopped after the fourth slice and been quite okay but I had a reputation to uphold so I ate on. I'm not afraid to say the only reason I ate the final slice was because I had not only our table but most of the people at the table next to us cheering me on. One bloke was rubbing my shoulders like a boxer before a title fight and another was pleading, begging me to do it.

I did it and then went out and got drunk.

Awesome.

I love my video games and one day, after playing a driving game for hours the night before, I was hooning around on my way to work. It was pouring rain and I was doing 60 on a bend which had a yellow sign which said 50.

Instead of slowing down, my brain went into computer game mode and I thought to myself, "If I can just get the right line into this corner, I can start sliding but I should be able to correct and get out of it just like a rally driver."

Can you believe I was thinking like that?

Sure enough, the back end of the beat-up old Astra slid out and instead of executing a perfect slide around the corner, I over-corrected, slid out into on-coming traffic and back in a deep gutter and skidded to a halt a foot from a power pole.

The Greasy Pig was lucky.

The Fart

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Critique

We might have mud here! Yep, I think The Stink has shat himself with this one. At the end of the fart, there is a definite splatter. But don't be concerned boys and girls, The Stink is a professional. He only wears brown undies (if at all).

The Fart

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Critique

Think James Morrison. This is a fart that James could well take notice of. The Stink rips off a riff that might well be at home in a jazz bar. Sure it could be a bit longer for a jazz riff, but the man is working with an arse, not a trumpet. And the acoustics of a suburban Brisbane shitter work quite well for this blow-off.

Top stuff, but me personally, I'm looking forward to when The Stink moves into some of his more "relaxed-quoit" repertoire.

Firstly, welcome to the fart of the week segment. If there's one thing that can bring grown men to tears of laughter, it's farts. And that's we've got for you boys and girls, farts. I'm pissing myself already.

Without further ado, the inaugural fart from our resident farter extraordinaire - The Stink:

The Fart

Listen

Critique

The fart starts off perhaps too enthusiastically, almost resulting in the crapping of dacks, but it was skillfully reined back a little. The Stink then goes on to squeeze the bad boy out with a measured tone, finishing with a slight inflection. Marvellous intonation and sphincter control, considering he had just come very close to filling his reg grundies with turd.

One mad weekend a rather infamous gee up king couldn't get a lift to a beer festival at Emu Park (near Yeppoon in Central Queensland). A group of blokes had stolen one of the boys' car to get there but our subject, drunk and disorderly, missed the ride.

He was later spotted walking to Emu Park (about 15kms) with a crudely written cardboard sign which simply said, "I need a beer and a shit. Emu Park Beer Festival."

He did end up getting a lift but arrived just as we were all leaving. He later shagged a disabled girl (with her consent) in someone's front yard in Yeppoon. Funny shit.

Rating: 8/10

One night in Biloela, a few likely lads were running amok through the streets and wreaked havoc. First they attacked the local KFC outlet, jumping over the counter and handing out drinks, potato and gravy and salads to everyone before legging it before the cops turned up. They then ran into a local girl one of them knew and she invited everyone back to her place for a party.

BIG mistake.

She showed them into the rumpus room and said, "Now you can drink the beer out of the fridge but please don't touch my dad's spirits behind the bar." Well that was like a red rag to a bull and no sooner had she left the room than everyone was skolling her old man's spirits like there was no tomorrow. She returned a short time later and went off her nut and told everyone to leave or she would call the cops (the second time that night someone had called the cops on these wankers).

Everyone made it outside except for one. No-one knew where he was so one of the boys went back inside to look for him. A noise from the chick's bedroom was investigated and there, in all his glory, was an upstanding young gentleman shitting in the chick's undies drawer.

It was truly unforgettable.

Rating: 10/10

One night in good old Rockhampton, the middle brother of a truly sick trio of bastards, was dancing with a chick on the dance floor and he looked to be making some headway. Just when it looked like the big guy was going to score as he gyrated against this young lass, he casually undid his belt, dropped his jeans to his knees and started dry humping her with his, now fully exposed, erect penis right in front of everyone.

This chick was blissfully unaware as everyone else pissed themselves laughing. She only realised when he grabbed her hand and put it on the offending member. Then he looked over and gave a cheeky grin as she planted a great slap across his face. He couldn't have given a shit.

Truly memorable.

Rating: 9/10

This poor bloke had a big night on the drink and faced an hour drive to get to work. Being a bit of a homebody, he wanted to make it home and then have a nice after-grog bog.

But about 50 km from home he got severe gut cramps but figured he was strong enough to hold on....he was so very, very wrong.

After bypassing a couple of servos, he was horrified to admit he wasn't going to make it after all. So, as he's driving at 100 km per hour on the highway, he just couldn't hold back the tide and emptied his bowels into his jeans.

Those who have gone for a crap after a night out know the stool has the consistency of warm butter.

So our mate had to drive about 20 km sitting in his own shit. To make matters worse, he was wearing boxer shorts so the vile mess couldn't just be contained in his undies. But worse still, when he pulled up at his home, a woman walked up to the car and asked him if he could help her with her car which had broken down. Unable to explain the real reason why he couldn't help her, he just rudely told her he was late for work and didn't know anything about cars so leave him alone.

Poor bastard.