Leo was two years older than me and liked to take amyl nitrate so as to make anal sex easier. After one such session, he managed rather skilfully to curl an enormous turd around the seat of one of the toilets. This was a very traditional boarding school and since I was in the bottom year, as a "fag" I was called upon to remove the offending poo. I was able to do so successfully by using a silver trowel that the Queen Mum had used to lay the foundation stone to one of our school buildings. Eight years later my brother was at the same school and told me about the apocryphal "Legend of Leo's Log" little knowing that (a) it was a true story and that (b) I had been the one who'd had to clean up the foul mess.

Possibly this is made up. I don't care. A silver trowel! My sides are bursting with class outrage! Like an episode of Citizen Smith! Sadly this submission came anonymously but whoever you are, we salute you and your shitty past. You're head of ICI now aren't you?

This reminds me of 'The Turd'. I was a first year, still wet behind the ears, and with a smaller cock that may or may not have had pubes, I cannot remember. Upon entering the toilet for a nervous, wide-eyed, innocent piss, I came across an enormous crowd of 4th years laughing like drains. Tall, scary, drains. I didn't know why, so I snuck in a cubicle to do wee. This turned out to be a mistake.

Inside the bowl was, quite simply, the biggest shit I have ever seen in my life. It made you wince just to look at it. It was ridiculous - eye-fucking in its impossibly monstrous dimensions. A note taped to the cistern read "Property of ***** - do not flush!" (The stars are there because I cannot recall the name, not to preserve the dignity of the Bearer - I imagine they had little in the first place)

Well, here was a to-do. I needed wee bad, but here was a massive assausage stopping me. The sensible thing to do would have been to go somewhere else to piss - but back then I still had a small amount of pride, and somehow it seemed so WRONG to have my life dictated by a big shit rather than Fate. I got out cock and pissed. Hollers from outside the cubicle accompanied the golden stream's slow-motion journey towards the bowl, brown whale waiting, glinting, silently. I zipped up, sweating and scared.

Flushing would be a step too far - although a small part of my mind, rational despite the panic, piped up to say "Flushing? Are you fucking joking? Nothing less than a controlled explosion is even going to DENT that fucker."
I took a deep breath (not too deep) and decided to act like a manchild. I would have to be proud of my decision to sully the waters of the BumTrout. I calmly opened the cubicle door, and met the accusatory stares of a dozen lads.

"He pissed on The Turd!" bellowed one, pointing.

"I didn't flush it!" I wailed. Then I ran. I never saw The Turd again.

There's more, actually: a second Turd, which was at the time unnamed. I don't know how big this one was, only that it was in the wrong place. A surprise assembly was called for all the boys in the school, and as we filed in, the rumour spread like wildfire that the reason for it was because 'Someone done a shit on the floor in one of the toilets!'

Certainly Mr Stonely didn't look in a good mood. An assembly about a poo; this was a new one, and everyone was excited, the greyness of yet another schoolday suddenly livened up with a splash of colour (brown).
When asked for silence the congregated boys became quiet in record time, because teacher was possibly about to talk about poos. Mr Stonely looked uncomfortable. "On Thursday night..." Tarrant-like pause. "Someone...did not use the pan in the correct manner." Peals of laughter rang around the room, squeals from 1st years, grunts from 5th years. Stonely was not amused; in fact, he was LIVID that people were laughing at him talking about poos.

Singling out a random boy in the middle of the hall, he pointed and shouted (his voice breaking with emotion like a hormonal adolescent) "YOU! YOU'RE EXACTLY WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! GET OUT!" I don't know whether he meant that he thought the boy had done the poo, or whether he was comparing the boy TO a poo. On a floor.

That was that, anyway. To this day I really don't know why they had an assembly about it; they can't have thought they were really going to catch the pooer like this. Like bent cops in a clichéd movie, they simply laid the blame on someone who looked as though he might have had the capacity to do a poo on a floor.

Mr Vallelly called all the boys in the school into an assembly. There must have been 750 of us, wondering what we had done to deserve this special gathering. Vallelly paced around the stage, red faced and visibly fuming.
Finally, he exploded: "Somebody has been spreading EXCRETA on the walls of the boys toilets..."
At this point, his perception of himself as fearsome and authoritative evaporated, as every boy in the hall burst out laughing, and started saying, shouting, singing, excreta.
It's not every day you learn a new word for poo.

Please don't take this entry as an invitation to tell us about any adult bumshits you done or done see. So, if you found a poo while working for the Guardian (nice story, thanks), or simply crimped off a monster this morning and wanted to share (thanks, * Penski), they probably won't make it in.
Take it to the Forum.

In primary school, we had an assembly about a serial shitter. He had pooed three times, like a fairy tale. Once on the foor, once in the urinal and once in the sink.

In the end, if was discovered that it was a Year 1 pupil who'd done it, which was a bit of a let-down. We'd previously assumed it was a work of genius, but knowing a five-year-old had done it just seemed childish.

The Leo's Log story reminds me of 'The Mummy'. The Mummy was a legendarily large poo that my friend laid in the toilet at school. Being at a private school, we were well trained in flushing the toilet after using it, so the thought of leaving the turd in the bowl for all to see was disgusting to him. And rightly so, for who but the most filthy comprehensive school pupils would not flush a toilet?
Since the turd had a good six inches protruding from the water, he wrapped his hand liberally with toilet paper, reached in, and rescued it. He wrapped it up in reams of toilet paper and smuggled it out to the playground.
He then proceeded to show us what at first glance could have been a baby mummy snatched straight out of the Egyptian Room at the British Museum. But no, to our even greater delight, he unravelled the wrapping to reveal a firm, long, and generally mammoth turd.

My father has worked in a fair few educational insitutions during his career as a primary school teacher.
And in each one, the phenomenon of the 'phantom shitter' has always presented itself. Its a queer thing, but apparently if a kid (it's mostly boys, if that shocks anyone) is having some kind of problem at home, or with social interaction, or whatever, they often take to laying pipes in inapropriate places, or smearing it everywhere, or both.
So, it's not uncommon, and should signal a strong warning sign to teachers that the child has emotional problems. To put it another way, some kid is utterly fucked-up, and seriously needs his twisted face rubbing in it, the filthy shit-easy freak.

It may be mostly boys who shit everywhere, but we had a phantom tampon and sani pad spreader. This might have been one girl, two highly specialised competitors, or a boy trying to frame all womanhood, which would quite frankly be typical.
This is particularly unpleasant if you leave them in the middle of the playground in summer, and your school is in Mombasa. Where mine was.

Graham Barnes was a very special boy. He had to have an orange for dessert at lunch because normal puddings like angel delight or jelly would DO things to him. He was pale, thin and quiet.

One day he got up from his chair and walked out of class. A few intrigued souls stuck their heads round the door to be treated to the sight of him shuffling down the corridor with his trousers down, leaving a breadcrumb-esque trail of little poos behind him.

Graham moved to a different school. Many years later I boarded the bus to college and sat down, to be greeted by his smiling face and a jolly "Y'alright?"

I, naturally, could only respond with "don't talk to me, poo-boy!"