Scarborough Poo

Scarborough Poo
On a highly charged geography field trip to Scarborough when I was 14, a friend of mine was slightly drunk and decided to piss out of his hotel window onto the proprietor’s patio below. Stunned by this remarkable act of bravado, we dared our friend to shit out of the window the following night, a challenge which he duly responded to by dropping a staggering load from his 4th floor room, making somewhat of a pat on the hotel managers paving below. The following night we were all called into the dining area where our teacher quizzed us as to why the hotel proprietor had slipped over whilst pacing around his patio at night, on what he confessed to the teacher as being a fried egg (???). At which point my friend, blinded by the sheer ignorance of the managers mistake, quite foolishly claimed “it wasn’t an egg, it was a poo!”. My teacher didn’t have the heart to tell the manager, but made my friend apologise and write 20 sides of lines of “it wasn’t an egg, it was a poo” and have each signed by his parents.