Practically Classics Forum

No waiting for the man from the Water Board to collect the pan on a Friday evening.

This reminds me of the bricked up holes up in outbuildings up and down the back lanes in the valleys of South Wales. As a child I remember many such buildings had them but at the time I didn't realise what had been their purpose. In South Wales, it was quite common for someone to be called after what they did or where they lived etc. Hence I recall a local pharmacist known as “Dai the Pill”. Another example was a man who had murdered his wife but there were extenuating circumstances and he wasn’t in prison for very long. He worked in a local colliery and when he was released from prison, he went back to work. His name was also David and he became known as “Dai the murderer”. Apparently (And before my time), there was a soilman known as "Dai the sh*t" .

That reminds me of a recent book Martin. Ken Follett covers life in a welsh mining village in "Fall of Giants" including the use of names in the way you mention, such as "Dai Pony" (the man who cared for the pit ponies) and others, I think he's probably quite accurate in his descriptions though you would probably know better than me, anyway the books a cracking read if anyone hasn't read it yet.

Back to the pans though, my dad worked at the "Water treatment plant" better known as the sewerage farm, sludge works or even the sh*t works by us as kids when we were growing up in Lancs. Anyway, in his early years a man still came with all the pans he'd collected, and every friday night they would leave the gates open for him so he didn't have to slow his van when bringing them in.

One dark evening they forgot about him and closed the gates, on approach he saw the gates were closed a little too late, the resulting emergency stop and lack of any partition between rear and front of van apparently caused quite a mess

The old saying "S**t Happens" springs to mind

You Northerners really had to poop in a pan ??

Whats more, some rows of cottages had to share the one pan

But at least it would be situated hygenically in a ramshackle hut somewhere outside....back to me old dads tales who as a child was sent to live with his gran for a while in one such place, he tells of how he remembers tickling the landlady's backside with a nettle through the gaps in the wall of the shared privvy whilst she was sat on the plank going about her business

Fantastic,this is what this place is missing,more tales from the crapper.

Well there was once an unfortunate event involving a sheet of cling film, the staff WC in a Salvation Army-owned and run rehab facility and the fact that the expected visiting (minor) Royal person used said WC before the staff member in whose honour the old cling film gag had been set up.
Know this: Cling film is far stronger in tension than you might imagine it would be.

These Royals don't half know some rude words!

I believe that trick was quite big at Leyland Motors and BAC,

But Royalty.......all else pales into insignificance Pure Class.

Come on chaps, we've descended to the gutter at last, so all toilet humour stories much appreciated (Sorry Mitsu, I know the thread was about white stuff, but these things have a path all of their own)

When I started in farming (in 1970), the farmer's wife told me about the farm she worked on as a student (in the 50's). It was a remote farm in the hills in West Cumberland (as it was!) and there was only the cesspit toilet outside. One winter, a local Agricultural Merchant's rep called and, as happens, the cold walk to the toilet was mentioned. "Ah, you need an Elsan" he said. Elsans (chemical toilets) being a relatively new thing in Cumberland at the time. "You can have a toilet in the house then."
"Doesn't it smell?" asked the farmer.
"No, you can have it in the living room and it won't smell at all" was the reply.

So they bought the Elsan and, as it was a small building, they did as the rep said - and put it in the sitting room as, in common with many farms, the kitchen was the main room and the sitting room was "Sunday Best". Some weeks later, the rep called with the month's feed (and Elsan) bill. "That toilet stinks!" said the farmer's wife. So the rep went into the sitting room and, indeed, the toilet stank. He lifted the lid and looked in: "No wonder, some bu**er's sh*t in it!" was his only comment!

Come on chaps surely we have more toilet humour to share.....

We once spent 10 minutes wrapping rope round a portaloo when a workmate was inside, great weeze we thought, didn't we feel a right bunch of pillocks though when he opened the bloody door inwards

And on the note of portaloos, working outdoors on the railways we often had no facilities beyond an overgrown banking and some grass / leaves

In the spirit of hygene they eventually provided us with handwipes for cleaning up before we had our bait, well one boy decided they'd be better than a dock leaf, and though hidden from view you could hear him scream for miles when trying the new super industrial strength hand wipes as an alternative..