I was in primary school, can't of been any older than 9. Had a pretty gross beef sandwich for lunch, and later in the day I had some seriously explosive diarrhoea. Like, seriously explosive. It was an hour before the end of the day, so my child mind decided that was a piece of cake, so I held it in. It didn't work, it rushed out like the opening of the Panama canal. My 'O'face was very pronounced by this stage. I yelled to the teacher, asking to be excused. She, unaware of my situation, agree'd. I rushed out of the classroom as quickly as possible to avoid the smell from spreading to my Rosie cheeked class mates, and headed to the toilet. I cleared my bowels, and everything was fine. It did leave quite a mess on the inside of my skirt. So I reached for some toilet paper. None... Absolutely none in the whole bathroom block... So I had no choice, I had to use something else, I decided as my underwear was already soiled, I'd use that. So I cleaned up with my underwear, and job done! I was clean, the smell was gone, and everything was fine! Only... What to do with the underwear? I couldn't take it with me, or leave it around for people to find. So I took off my shoe, knocked one of the ceiling tiles off, and threw my underwear up there. Maybe if I'm lucky the pants will be found after I left, and nobody will ever suspect me! Job done! My first experience of going commando in a public building. Felt good. But wait, the story does not end there. The weekend passed, and we came back into school on Monday greeted with the most disgusting stench of shit to ever grace the human sinus. I knew instantly it was my fault... It turns out, upon throwing my underwear into the ceiling, it landed in an exposed heating air duct. Thus the smell of my shit was transported effortlessly around the school. The janitor found and removed the underwear, and there was a massive investigation as to who the underwear belonged to. I never, to this day, have spoken u