All was well in Scrotanigan’s job when suddenly he felt something odd.
A niggle, a tickle, not quite unpleasant, almost akin to stroking a pheasant.

But wise was he in Canterbury, and too the toilet he went.
Aftet 10 stinky, sloppy long minutes indeed he felt quite spent!

A tale for ye to live through the years, of a stank so foul it would bring you to tears!

By Guest Pooet, Scrotanigan The Brash