No Loo Roll : Prisoner Complains

by duncanr

A prisoner in Sweden has made an official complaint to the Parliamentary Ombudsman because the authorities at the prison where he is being held took over 2 hours to supply him with a loo roll when he needed a shit

http://tinyurl.com/7sb3duw

Hhmm, he should think himself lucky no paper to wipe his arse with is all he has to worry about – see http://tinyurl.com/7ggdaff

8 Comments to “No Loo Roll : Prisoner Complains”

  1. This reminds me of a little incident that happened to me not so long ago.

    Firstly, I should explain that nobody but NOBODY, replaces the bog roll in our house.

    It was early morning and le femme ratty was already at work and I was returning from dropping the kids off at their schools, when I felt the urgent spasms that said “ratty, you need a Tom Tit . . . and soon!”

    I could have gone straight to work and had a dump there, but I reasoned that having a client in my office while I had an explosive bowel movement in an adjoining room, along with accompanying shrieks and screams, might not create the ideal atmosphere for discussing his cosmetics’ campaign. Anyway, home was nearer.

    Traffic was heavy and slow moving and my contractions were getting more and more regular. I was conscious that I would soon be going into eye-watering labour. The last thing I wanted to do was give birth to a bonny, blue-eyed, bouncing baby turd on my car seat, so I gritted my teeth, clenched my buttocks and with superhuman will power, made it home, unsoiled.

    Slamming my front door closed, I momentarily leaned my back against it and gave thanks for not dropping one in the lift, then bolted to the bog where I rid myself of the evil that resided within me. When the excorsism was complete I groped for the loo roll and found . . . an empty cardboard tube – BASTARDS!

    I thought about using the Bidet, but something about squirting water at your bum and then slithering around it with soapy fingers is not quite, well – how can I put it . . . British!

    The only other option open to me was to drag myself along the bathroom floor until the brown line stopped. Just then a thought occured to me – ‘check out the other toilet.’ Grabbing the front of my trousers and with restricted steps, I made my way. When, all of a sudden, I could hear footsteps coming down the hallway.

    FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! It was the day the cleaner comes. Turning around, and at a speed and fashion that would have guaranteed me a Gold at the Paralympics, I returned to Bog no. 1, but not before the cleaner had a glimpse of two, frantically rotating pink cheeks!

    After that incident I penned a note “Please replace toilet paper after use” and taped it to the wall. That had no effect other than to encourage my son to write, underneath – “UGGGHH!!!”

    Liked by 1 person

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