Much like half the population it seems, Aaron Peters has had a bit of a shit go lately.

Unsure whether the unending stream of bad luck had to do change in weather, or the fact he was simply getting older, Aaron tempted fate and lost when he attempted to tuck into his fourth plate of BBQ wings one hot Tuesday night out with his mates.

Aaron says he’d felt the all too familiar hot stabs of regret when he’d attempted to extricate himself from the group with the finesse of a man about to shit his pants.

If the quick waddle to the loo wasn’t obvious enough, his attempts to forcibly hold together his cheeks with his left hand clearly signalled to all that he was a man in distress.

Aaron chats to our reporter, who’d unfortunately been attempting to enjoy some overpriced sticky date pudding at the scene.

“Jesus Christ, that’s what you’ve got to look forward to in middle age, eh”, says Aaron as he hobbles out of the bathroom, “you either don’t shit for a week or all hell breaks loose.”

“And don’t get me started about the rest of the body, mate. Starts breaking down in a different order than you expect.”

“Thought my knees would be fucked, or that I might have a few problems with the back.”

“But no, it turns out I’m now lactose intolerant.” Unfortunately for Aaron, despite passing the wipe and check test, his butt cheeks felt somewhat moist as he walked back to the table.

When a sneaky rearrangement of the undies failed to fix the icky feeling, Aaron found himself shamefully duck walking back into the bathroom for a reassuring last wipe.

More to come.


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