This is very true and goes back in history as a remedy, beyond the Romans to ancient Greece, I believe. Garlic is a natural antiseptic for the fissures and like all members of the onion family, is a stool softener.

In the interests of research, when I was recently troubled by my unwelcome bunghole-guest Sir Clement Pink (see the forums) I tried inserting a garlic clove into my chuffbox to see whether it worked. I cannot say for sure whether it would make the makers of Anusol worried, because it stung like fuck and I had to push it out after a few seconds, subsequently calming my inflamed ringpiece with my miracle pile cream SCHIROPROCT, followed by a suppository of the same. However, should he ever return to haunt my back door, I will be a good poopreporter and bear the initial sting to see if the garlic actually makes much difference.

Nice story. I agree though, it's a bit of a disturbing realisation when you discover that your normally staid and composed teacher can lay an enormous horrible shit.

I went on a school trip to Germany when I was 13. Our teacher, Mr Howard, shared the same bathroom in the youth hostel that the rest of us did and he came out one morning just as I was going in. I was bursting for a dump, but it was apparant that he'd done one of those boomerang turds that come back after being flushed, and despite flushing it again myself, it disappeared around the bend and then crept back. I tried about three times with the same result, and I didn't want to come out of the toilet in case one of my classmates saw me come out and thought the log was mine.

I didn't want to crap on top of it because I figured that if I couldn't get rid of Howard's poo, mine would stay as well, but I needed to go really badly so I decided to risk it. I laid a cable like a large bratwurst (I remember it well), which stuck out of the surface of the water making a godawful stench but I wiped, threw the TP in, then hit upon the idea that if I chucked loads of paper in, the action of the paper going down may help dislodge any stuck poo and get rid of everything for good. So I did, and flushed. I should have known better because the water level rose and reached the very rim of the pan, with lots of tattered brown croquettes floating in the water. I was terrified that it was all going to overflow over the side, but it went no further and I didn't really know what to do.

Luckily, outside the door was quiet and it seemed that there wasn't anyone else there, so I opened the stall door and crept out of the bathroom as quickly as I could. Opposite the bathroom was the lounge area with a Space Invaders machine that took 1DM pieces, and although nobody else was there I stood hunched in front of it pretending to play. Within a minute or so, one of the lads from my class, Ian, came in walking in the direction of the bathroom.

"Oi Ian!" I called "Got any Marks? I've just put my last couple in. Go on, I'll pay you back later..." He fished in his pocket for a coin, flipped it at me, and alibi established, I put it in the machine and started playing as Ian walked into the bathroom. It took about 10 seconds for him to shout "Urgh!" and he came out in disgust complaining that the bog was all blocked up and there was shit everywhere and did I see who did it?

I feigned obliviousness with the straightest face I could muster. "Nah mate, been busy playing this for the last 20 minutes or so, ain't seen who's been walking in and out...let's have a look then!" I went into the bathroom and shouted "Urgh! Fucking dirty bastard!" in sympathy.

Later that morning, the hostel manager was on his hands and knees with his arm down the toilet, unblocking it. Mr Howard called all the boys together and gave us all a telling-off, that someone had blocked the toilet, complaining that the manager had been really angry with him about it and if he found out who was responsible he'd make them personally apologise to the manager and help him clean the hostel's bathroom for the rest of the week. I wanted to pipe up that actually it was HIS shit that caused the initial problem, but figured it was best to just shut up and hope that Ian didn't voice the suspicians that he undoubtedly had.

Not many people know this, but I have it on good authority that there was a section of the story deleted from the film, after the happy ending when Sly and Bullock kiss and he asks her about the sea shells.

She tells him that the shells are hinged and if he lifts the edges there will be labelled buttons underneath which will make it self-explanatory.

Sly sits down, empties his arse noisily and lifts up the first shell. Sure enough there is a button labelled "WW". He presses it and a jet of warm water squirts against his beshitted hoop, washing away the detritus in a very pleasant manner. He lifts the second shell and the button is labelled "WA". He presses it and a blast of warm air dries his anus very pleasantly. Under the next shell is a button labelled "ATR" which he presses, and the scene then cuts to 3 days later when Sly wakes up in a hospital bed, with Sandra beside him looking very apologetic.
"How are you feeling John Spartan?" she croaks. "What do you remember?"
"Duh...I'm not sure...I feel numb from the waist down..." he replies. "I remember pressing the WW button and it washed my butt with warm water, then the WA button, and I got warm air..."
"Then you pressed ATR?" she enquired, horrified. "John Sparton, did nobody tell you that the toilets in the 21st century are unisex?"
"Er...no..."
"ATR stands for Automatic Tampon Removal. By the way, your penis is in the jar next to your bed."

crewzinforabrewzin

What a fascinating and wild life you must lead, Sir!

If you'll forgive my unpardonable arrogance in assuming that a man of the world such as your good self might listen to such crudely obvious advice from an uninvited stranger, I believe that your interests would best be served by using the cash for the spy cameras and instead hiring a specialised prostitute, paying her all the money you have to fulful whatever voyeuristic scat fantasies you wish. And why not? Go on, spoil yourself. You've earned it. After all, you have nothing else to spend it on, as you are clearly saving a lot by avoiding women and people who like you, so in addition to finding out what a real live one actually looks and feels like, you'll also be helping out a girl who needs the money more than you do and giving her the rare joy so seldom found in such a demanding profession these days: somebody less fortunate than she, whom it is totally acceptable to laugh about with her colleagues when they reminisce about their oddest and most socially inept customers.