For me it's a mate called Brian, in a business meeting, in Hungary, following a hearty lunch and a couple of beers.....
After 20 or so minutes, Brian developed what he called 'a minor tummy irritation'. After sweating for a while, he somewhat meekly asked where the toilet was, vanished hastily, and returned about 10 minutes later looking somewhat more comfortable. The only problem was, he stunk. Not a 'gentle, post dinner farting' aroma, more like an open septic tank. Notes were scribbled, and he excused himself again, only to return in dismay, as he couldn't fathom the problem.
After sitting for another 5 or so minutes, another note was hastily scribbled, basically 'I don't know what you have done, but there is a speck of s
t on your cuff'. This time, we both made our excuses to 'have a quiet word outside the office', and nigh on ran for the loos.
In his attempts not to follow through, Brian had shuffled quickly into the smallest room, dropped his trousers and let nature take it's course.
Alas, in his hurry not to soil himself, he had pulled his braces off, they had dropped into the bowl, and what was later described as 'violent bum gravy' had squirted all over them.
Job done, reverse the steps, back to the meeting....
Alas, his shirt would have given Sketchleys a good income for several weeks, so the only course of action was for him to remove it. For reasons best known only to him, he slung it out of the window, put his tie back on, did his suit up, and returned to the meeting room.
The meeting lasted for about 3 more minutes, was called to a close- not for any reason other than it was over, although he did receive a few slightly perplexed looks, so straight to the lift and back to the ground floor.
By now, I'm afraid that complete immaturity had taken over, and I was in pieces.
Just to cement the ordeal into the 'days to forget' file, on the way through the foyer there was a good 20-30 people all looking skyward to the glass roof, where Brians disheveled, s
tty shirt lay, with several double taking the sight of a short, fat, bright red, sweaty, shirtless, tie wearing 'businessman' hurrying out of the building.
To finally cause pain to my ribs for the next two days, we jumped into a cab, I lay on the back seat fit to burst, and just as I thought I was ok, he turned around from the front, and asked- in complete seriousness- "do you think they noticed?"