This one time, I shat myself in public. Nothing major, nothing that any passers by would have even been aware of, but, nonetheless, enough to make impossible any hopes I might have had of doing any Christmas shopping. Luckily, I found a Starbucks and headed inside to use their single capacity, unisex toilet. It was a pokey little dive but afforded me the privacy I needed to clean my soiled arsehole.

Upon finishing I reached confidently over for the toilet paper. Nothing. Not even a cardboard tube (and I've made use of the tube before). The only course of action open to me as I could see it was to use some item of my clothing to do the job. Though socks seemed the obvious choice, they lost out in the end to pants. They weren't my favourite boxer shorts by any means and they had already taken the brunt of the disaster, so the decision all but made itself.

Not confident that they would actually flush successfully, I instead shoved my shit covered boxers into the "ladies hygiene prod