ah, shit story...
...and a shit story to be proud of……
In my younger days I used to enjoy, like most young boys at the age of 11 or so, a spiffing good game of the ol’ football. However, being a very fastidious childlet, and running back home if I so much as got a grass stain on my shirt, my worst fears were realised when I went in for a bit of a diving header; duly scored the goal of the century for Hawthorn Albion, only to discover that my hair was now plastered with dog shit. Yeps, the ball had obviously landed in a vast pile of dog-eggs before reaching my blistering headed goal.
I ran home distraught and stinking of canine-cack. Not pleasant.
There it is; a shit story on both counts. Sorry.

n.b.
Just realised my last post was about dog-shit as well. Oh, feck, am I subconsciously scatological?

knobbery reference here...
( smegski is editor of Practical Shoelace Collector, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 23:27, closed)