I was once doing a door-to-door sales job in Cardiff, and was on foot, having been dropped off by a work colleague. As the day progressed I became more and more desperate for a shit, but with no car and no pub for miles around I started to entertain the possibility of shitting on a (fairly secluded) nearby patch of grass.
Just as I was about to explode I remembered that someone I knew from University about 10 years prior lived on the estate that I was working in, and amazingly their house number popped into my head. I made my way gingerly to their house (taking very small but fast strides so as to 'hold it all in') and knocked on their door. An old lady answered with a quizzical look, and I quickly explained to her that I knew her son from college, was in the area, and thought I'd say hello. She explained that my friend had long since moved away from the area, but asked would I like to come in for a cup of tea. I gratefully accepted, and mentioned that, if possible, I would like to nip to the toilet too, whilst I was there. 'Of course', she replied, 'its just through there'.
I made my way along the narrow corridor and into a small dining room/kitchen area about 12 feet square. In the middle of the room was a small table with 4 seats arranged around it. At one end of the room was a wooden door - one which did not go all the way to the ceiling, and which ended about 8 inches from the ground, leaving a gap above and below. I rushed in and closed the door behind me, relieved that I had made it without crapping myself.
As I was undoing my trousers I could hear the old lady enter the room behind me, explaining to her elderly husband that this lovely chap , who was a friend of their son, was in the area, and had popped in for a cup of tea. I was praying that they would leave the room, but I heard the 'click' of the kettle being put on and the sound of scraping chairs as they both took a seat at the table. I could see the old mans slippers right in front of me through the gap beneath the door where I was sitting.
I waited for what seemed like a lifetime ( but realistically was more like 20 seconds) in the hope that they may leave the room, or put the radio on, or something(!) to distract them from what was about to happen, as the toilet seat that I was perched on was literally no more than 3-4 feet from where they were sitting - separated only by a thin piece of wood that didn't even reach the ground. But I accepted my fate as the pain in my guts became too intense to bear, and the relaxation of my lower abdominal muscles was accompanied by a deafening and elongated noise which I'm sure caused the internal walls of the room to shake. The inevitable stench followed, and the occupants of the adjoining room fell silent.
After completing the necessary paperwork (the sounds of which were also 'enjoyed' by those on the other side of the door) I plucked up the courage to emerge, drink my cup of tea and gulp down the accompanying Welsh cake before making my excuses and leaving.
To cap things off there was no toilet brush in the loo, so the poor old lady would later have been greeted by the customary 'flock of starlings' when surveying the scene of the crime for damage.
I have never mentioned this to my friend, but I have a feeling that it my have been discussed.