Works toilet paper

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I try not to use the works toilet for obvious reasons, but when you gotta go, you gotta go.

This morning it was touching and go.

Once in the cubicle after wiping the loose toilet seat and letting free my giant turf l had the pleasure of cleaning my poop chute with what was more or less your finest sandpaper.
At the end my piles had lost a layer or two of skin and it had flattened all spots on my bottom..

From now on I’ll bring my own shit paper.

Nominated by Mince pie guy

32 thoughts on “Works toilet paper”

  1. I still recall the days of those shiny, totally non-absorbent toilet rolls that more or less “spread” rather than wiped your leftovers all over your arse!

    I don’t like using work or public toilets for a whole variety of reasons, not least finding out AFTER the event there’s no toilet roll left!

      • Afternoon Jack.

        We had ‘Bronco’ toilet paper at my school. Great if you ran out of tracing paper, not much use on a shitty bumhole, unless you wanted make a trace of it.

  2. Please submit the attached treatise to your Facilities (Anal Refreshment) Team (FART) leader for his or her or its perusal and implementation. In particular draw to his her or its attention the unique advantages of a live goose in the context you mention:

    https://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/r/rabelais/francois/r11g/book1.13.html

    I remember Izal medicated rectal abrasive. Not only had it the absorbent capacity of oiled tracing paper, but it was impregnated with Jeyes’ Fluid. Halcyon boarding school days…

  3. By God and sunny Jesus, this is a cunting I’ve long awaited.

    Despite my company making billions in revenue they insist on using toilet paper that could buff out all the dinks in a worn wooden table top. And yet, somehow it has the tensile strength of a wet noodle and the joins between the sheets are even weaker so you have to use a delicate pull on the dispenser to avoid getting one small square of arse buffing hell.

    Probably an attempt to get people to shit at home and not on billable time. Cheap bastards. If it were my company we’d have the finest paper and dedicated rooms, no flatulence enhancing stalls. Plus good wifi for ISAC browsing.

  4. A superb and long overdue bit of cunting, Mince.
    I think all employers are cheapskates in this respect. The organisation I used to work for bought bog paper so cheap that you performed your own rectal examination if you weren’t careful. It became a standing joke among the staff, most of whom used paper hankies.
    Miserable penny-pinching cunts would spend thousands on perks for the directors of course. A perfect example of ‘us and them’ in the workplace.

    • Going off on a bit of a tangent,my employer has just hired a cleaner who wears a Burka. Have you ever watched anyone dressed like this trying to undertake simple household tasks?.Fucking ridiculous. If I tried to type with boxing gloves on I’d just get called a thick cunt.

  5. I would have works bog paper especially manufactured. Each sheet would have a full size photograph of Lord Adonis on it. I would love to see Remainers having to wipe their arses on that. I’d have laxative put in their tea so they had to use it.

  6. If I had my own firm I would sack all the Remoaners and replace them with cheap Lithuanian gyppos. Go on, fuck off and find a job in your beloved EU.
    Cunts.

  7. You callow cunts have never had it so good. Works arsepaper? Nothing better for flatting doine an old top coat before reglossing. But then you younger wankers likely are unfamiliar with the use orf a paintbrush let alone a bog brush. In my day we had the shiny stuff, indeed the Empire built upon it. Freezing oitside kharzy, ice cold unremittingly hard Bronco kissing the old piles, a smear orf blood as the old fingers bust through, no soft and gentle absorbency, no fucking puppies. Perfect start to the day to take orn Johnny fucking foreigner. Indeed this once great country went to the dogs when the first sheet orf the comfy stuff was wiped in Blighty.

    • When I were a lad we used to use quartered up sheets of the Birmingham Mail, hung up on a nail in our outside bog. I always looked for a bit with an article on B’ham City FC for a good wipe on. There was no lingering in there for a read of ‘The Dandy’ at seven o’clock on a winter’s morn, I can tell you.
      Happy days, Sir L.

  8. I haven’t had the misfortune of taking a shit at my job yet and judging by this cunting I’m not looking forward to it when it eventually happens.

  9. The cleaner’s work has been in vain
    the shitehouse smearer strikes again

    Wm. Shakespeare
    ‘Muckbath’, Act II Scene I

  10. When i was an apprentice we didn’t have the luxury of even a khazi , i had to do me ablutions in the bushes at the top of a bank above the road, one day I got to close to edge and one of me chocolate logs rolled down the hill into the path of a bus, got caught short in forge once and couldn’t think of how to get rid of it, so put it on the fire bet locals thought there was a new Pope elected due to the colour of the smoke.

  11. Lovely bit of cunting MPG. Keeping the old Marmite Motorway in tip top condition is very necessary especially for those batting for the other side. I’m at an age and state of health now where I plan my journeys around shit house pit stops. A bit like cottaging without the rampant cock sucking and bum stuffing. I well remember Izal lavatory paper and the boiled tar smell . It didn’t wipe the shit, it sort of smeared it about, a bit like green snot on a shop window. To help with the problem I’ve bought a disabled bog radar key from Lloyds chemist, I carry a man bag complete with life support system, tablets, inhalers, GTN spray, tissues and Huggies (which ought to go in the bunny box but invariably go down the bog) . Also I’m keeping the drain cleaners in work, although my baby botty wipes are more environmentally friendly than other brands. But I take the point. Employers’ idea of bog paper is that it should be made of emery on a giant lockable roll because sad bastards have been known to nick it for DIY, thus ensuring shoddy work whilst busting for a shit and waiting for clock off. I laid a cable on Monday, out of the water it was. I named it Sir Vince.

  12. I remember the Bronco arsehole-attrition paper at our primary school, some 43 years ago. You ended up using a great fucking wad of it, such was its propensity to smear the shite around like a pot of Nutella spread on a car windscreen.

    I often ended up blocking the bog at school- high level cistern affair. Released a fucking torrent of water which quickly overtopped the pan and flooded the washroom.

    Halcyon days indeed.

    • We were strictly limited to 3 sheets at one point! The teachers used to hover near the bog listening as each sheet got torn off. One poor cunt was made an example of, receiving 4 strokes of the cane for persistently breaking the rule. I learned to tear it silently…

      Happier, simpler days.

      • Evening RTC. You are joking, right? That’s rather twisted otherwise.

        Forget the old flaming poo bag on the doorstep, that situation calls for shoving copious amounts through the letterbox!

      • Creamy fox shite or failing that, normal dog mess, smeared in a car’s vent grille, located just below the windscreen.

        Make sure the creamy stodge is pushed firmly through the holes or slots in the grille. The driver will never get rid of the smell.

      • Haha. Something tells me you’ve done this before. Wonder who and what said cunt did to deserve such a brilliantly malicious act.

      • No joke Chunky. We are talking 1963 boys preparatory school here. That said, it was a unilateral measure taken by the headmaster and considered absurd even then, quickly abandoned after parents got wind of it.

  13. Have you tried that new improved Charmin Ultra Pithouse Shaper ?

    I find it rather pleasant on the whole….

  14. I believe that Izal Co. Ltd. were a subsidiary of Gillette – certainly, a folded sheet gave a very reasonable shave. When I was a young, apprentice draughtsman (or draftsman, for modern or American cunts), I eventually had to have my first shit in the works bogs. In the near gloom, I noticed some small writing, low down on the side wall of the cubicle. Straining forwards to get nearer to the minuscule text, I was astonished to read “You’re now shitting at an angle of 45 degrees”. It was fucking nonsense, as I had my trusty protractor (not someone who likes farm machinery) to hand and it was only 42 degrees, 30 minutes. Bunch of cunts.

    • There’s been some great khazi graffiti over the years, Smeggy. one of my favourites entailed an experience similar to your own. While sitting in a contemplative silence one time, I noticed that someone had written something on the bottom of the door, just above the 3 inch gap to the floor.
      I had to bend forward to read the inscription, which said;
      ‘Beware of homosexual limbo dancers’.

    • Equality of opportunity. My favourite bog wall of all time saw some thick cunt write: I like fucking grils. Underneath that someone else had written: Don’t you mean girls? And underneath that somebody else had put: What about us grils then?

  16. I had the misfortune to manage a rag trade block in Hackney for a time – obviously all employees were of a peaceful persuasion. Holy fucking Christ to toilets were a disaster.

    The cunts would stand on the pans and shit everywhere. In the end we smashed out all of the bogs and installed a ‘wet room’ style central drain so the cleaners could enter (in spacesuits of course) and jet the fucking place out top to bottom.

    Just been reading Enoch’s infamous speech again – he wasn’t far wrong was he?

    https://www.telegraph.co.uk/comment/3643823/Enoch-Powells-Rivers-of-Blood-speech.html

    • Yes he was absolutely right. Before his time and a genius. I believe he was a professor of classics. In Greek and Latin he was known as the textual pervert for what he could do with language. There were only three effnicks at my school back in the day. All the boys 14 and upwards thought Enoch was right yet he got fucked over by Heath, a quair don’t you know, and was reviled by the leftie international socialists in the Liebour Party. A dirty discrediting job was done on him and his reputation did not get the recognition it deserved as a thoroughly decent patriot who said we were surrendering our sovereignty, which is what Heath naively did, when not bumming boys (supplied by Jimmy Savile) on Morning Cloud, his yacht.

      • He wasn’t too keen on joining the EEC from memory either. He was far ahead of his time unlike the lickspittal MPs we now have!

      • Yes Proper Cunt. He said, I believe, we could surrender our sovereignty to Europe by joining. Maybe it was Quentin Hogg said that but he was sharp as a razor as well, not unlike our own dear Rees Mogg.

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