Men, Public toilets & loosing all control
Discussion
I was driving my infant son to his nursery when I had a stomach churn that told me I had 5 mins tops to take a sh!t. Got to the nursery but no toilets available for parents.
Drive home expecting to sh!t in my pants then realised my mum lived nearby so called at hers. She wasn't in, but the turd was now on its way out. I nipped round the back of her house onto her patio, pulled a small conifer tree out of a clay plant pot and shat in that, conscious her neighbours could see me if in their garden.
I didn't dare leave the sh!tty plant pot in my mums wheelie bin so I drove it home and put it in mine. To this day my mum is probably wondering who stole her plant pot, and why!!
Drive home expecting to sh!t in my pants then realised my mum lived nearby so called at hers. She wasn't in, but the turd was now on its way out. I nipped round the back of her house onto her patio, pulled a small conifer tree out of a clay plant pot and shat in that, conscious her neighbours could see me if in their garden.
I didn't dare leave the sh!tty plant pot in my mums wheelie bin so I drove it home and put it in mine. To this day my mum is probably wondering who stole her plant pot, and why!!
Why do folk choose to use the cubicle next to the one I'm sat in, when other cubicles are free?
One set of toilets at work have 3 cubicles in a row. If I go sit in the end one then often someone will come in and sit in the middle one next to me.
What happened to the unspoken rule of leaving at least a one cubicle gap????
One set of toilets at work have 3 cubicles in a row. If I go sit in the end one then often someone will come in and sit in the middle one next to me.
What happened to the unspoken rule of leaving at least a one cubicle gap????
LeadFarmer said:
Why do folk choose to use the cubicle next to the one I'm sat in, when other cubicles are free?
One set of toilets at work have 3 cubicles in a row. If I go sit in the end one then often someone will come in and sit in the middle one next to me.
What happened to the unspoken rule of leaving at least a one cubicle gap????
I thought that only applied to urinals?One set of toilets at work have 3 cubicles in a row. If I go sit in the end one then often someone will come in and sit in the middle one next to me.
What happened to the unspoken rule of leaving at least a one cubicle gap????
I believe the only unspoken rule in cubicles is that if someone in a neighboring cubicle lets out a particularly impressive fart, you have to shout; "I'LL NAME THAT TUNE IN ONE!"
Otispunkmeyer said:
Promised Land said:
Otispunkmeyer said:
Echos nightclub in Loughborough.... You wouldn't even force a rat to live in those bogs. They were abhorrent and from what my OH described, the ladies was at least twice as bad as the mens!
What were you doing in Echos in the first place?It was rank when it opened about 25 years ago. Surprised it's still going.
k cleaning it. Always played great tunes though, a lot of late 80's, early-mid 90's dance crap. Easy to jump about to.
For a while I thought it had a leaky roof but turned out it was just condensed sweat dripping off the ceiling. grim. I'm sure they just had a pre recorded CD playing as the set list was the same every week, always remember feeder, Blur, bon jovi, reef in the same order.
When I was riding for the Loughborough mountain bike team we were sponsored by Echos, still got the team jersey with their logo on
Johnnytheboy said:
Mildly off-topic, but I recall a portaloo at a festival ~25 years ago, when portaloos just had a toilet seat and an open tank underneath, where having queued for some time I was confronted by a cone of poo and loo roll protruding out of the hole.
I had to attempt to sack a staff member over that 'poo pyramid' thing.I managed quite a few housing estates and apartment blocks for retired people, and at each of these places there lived a Resident Manager who acted as a bit of a caretaker for the estate or block. They called on the residents to see if they were ok and phoned to report any problems with the building or grounds.
I had one girl in her late 30's, who was quite a large lady, and a little bit odd. She had worked there a while and the residents liked her, but she always smelled a bit of B.O and was slightly unkempt in appearance at times. Often I had to ask her several times to carry out a task as she was somewhat disorganised.
She would also hide in her flat at times to 'dodge' residents who wanted something, especially if it was outside of her hours.
Early one morning, the fire alarm for the block went off, all the residents made their way outside, fire brigade arrived, but no sign of the Residebt Manager. The residents told the fire brigade that she was definitely at home, so they banged and banged on the door as they needed her assistance with the residents. They got quite worried for her safety after she didn't answer and the fire alarm was still sounding, so they broke down the door into her flat, where they found her hiding behind a curtain.
She was hiding beucase apparently the fire alarm had gone off 'outside her hours' and she didn't want to get involved
But upon breaking into her flat, we discovered that it was absolutely filthy, a foot deep in rubbish throughout, and.... the toilet was a huge towering mountain of excrement. She must have just been standing on a chair and topping it off with s
t everything she had a dump. The smell was utterly staggering.Amazingly I was told I couldn't just sack her, but had to 'manage her out of the business', which is a process many in local government will be familiar with
mac96 said:
At least in respect of the huge unflushed turd, I reckon green box ticking is partly responsible.
My office has:
(1) non flushing urinals (to save water and encourage smells)
(2) Small flushes in the pans (to save water and make flushing anything bigger than a broad bean doubtful)
(3) Exaggerated delay before pan allows a second flush, so if first is not enough, tough.(More water saving).
All this water saving leads to constant blockages and plumber call outs, no doubt in a diesel van negating all green efforts so far...
I agree entirely. I wrote about this a while back.My office has:
(1) non flushing urinals (to save water and encourage smells)
(2) Small flushes in the pans (to save water and make flushing anything bigger than a broad bean doubtful)
(3) Exaggerated delay before pan allows a second flush, so if first is not enough, tough.(More water saving).
All this water saving leads to constant blockages and plumber call outs, no doubt in a diesel van negating all green efforts so far...
8Ace said:
All that jazz said:
8Ace said:
Electronic, water saving, toilet flushing regulators.
I have to take codeine for pain following an operation. My lavatorial habits can be described thus: I poo like a snake eats. Namely, nothing passes for a goodly period of time and then, after a few terrifying rumbles and the cold sweats, I walk carefully to the facilities and pass something similar in size, odour and apprearance to a dead pig that has been lying next to a tropical swamp for a week.
This is clearly going to require a fairly hefty barrage of water to dislodge, but the morons that decide to put in the water saving flushes clearly have not anticipated this scenario. One would expect that a vegetarian diet (one that no doubt they are familiar with), rich in fibre and pulses produces a sort of composty silage that breaks up instantly whne it enters the pan. A 25ml dash of water from the cistern amply disposes of this. But not mine, not this morning.
Eight times I tried to get the bd to move. Eight times the cistern chuckled at me as it refilled in a fraction of a second. Yet still, as I gazed sadly in to the pan, I was mocked by the curly tail of last week's suppers, rising eerily out of the tainted water like excalibur.
Because of this, the trap capacity in my office is down by 10% until the plumbers come. Productivity is ruined, water is wasted, and all for nothing.
Or, you could hold down the button when pressing it and it will give you the much longer "dump" flush. idea I have to take codeine for pain following an operation. My lavatorial habits can be described thus: I poo like a snake eats. Namely, nothing passes for a goodly period of time and then, after a few terrifying rumbles and the cold sweats, I walk carefully to the facilities and pass something similar in size, odour and apprearance to a dead pig that has been lying next to a tropical swamp for a week.
This is clearly going to require a fairly hefty barrage of water to dislodge, but the morons that decide to put in the water saving flushes clearly have not anticipated this scenario. One would expect that a vegetarian diet (one that no doubt they are familiar with), rich in fibre and pulses produces a sort of composty silage that breaks up instantly whne it enters the pan. A 25ml dash of water from the cistern amply disposes of this. But not mine, not this morning.
Eight times I tried to get the b
d to move. Eight times the cistern chuckled at me as it refilled in a fraction of a second. Yet still, as I gazed sadly in to the pan, I was mocked by the curly tail of last week's suppers, rising eerily out of the tainted water like excalibur.Because of this, the trap capacity in my office is down by 10% until the plumbers come. Productivity is ruined, water is wasted, and all for nothing.
The installers, in their infinite yet misguided wisdom, decided that it would be better to have one of those switches you wave your hands in front of to trigger what they laughably describe as the flush. There is no dump option, no way to shift the cocoa coloured dreadnought that lay beached on the porcelain.
It's annoying for me, but my real sympathy is with the poor soul that was dispatched to deal with it. The idea of having to hack at it with some sort of cutting device and then persuade it with a plunger to depart to the seaside, fair turns my stomach. He's a braver man than I.
I remember having to go at junior school and inadvertently and anonymously getting in trouble, "Sacco" had been up to his old trick of stuffing a bog roll down each trap, I excuse myself as was a little desperate and am met with three traps of wet scratchy bog paper down the pan, time was of he essense so had to pick one and do the deed, went back to lesson and thought no more of it
Then, early afternoon we were all summoned to the hall for assembly, very unusual and we wondered what was happening, anyway, Mr Bromley the head was obviously not happy and launched into his speech about the grave vandalism that had met the ground floor boys toilets, he ranted about the toilet paper being rammed down there and then "and the culprit then did his dirty business on top" which illicited sniggers, initially I was disgusted and then realised it was my "dirty business" and went bright red, luckily all eyes were front and nobody spotted my red and concerned face, he went on to tell us that Mrs O'Malley had to clear it up, this didnt help as "Mrs O" was genuinely lovely.
Everyone knew it was "Sacco", he did it regularly, it was his thing, He is dead now, drugs, along with his older brother, very sad but I will never forget the stinging embarrassment he caused me that day, and he nicked a bottle of Foam Shrimps from my bag, Karma can be a bh.
Then, early afternoon we were all summoned to the hall for assembly, very unusual and we wondered what was happening, anyway, Mr Bromley the head was obviously not happy and launched into his speech about the grave vandalism that had met the ground floor boys toilets, he ranted about the toilet paper being rammed down there and then "and the culprit then did his dirty business on top" which illicited sniggers, initially I was disgusted and then realised it was my "dirty business" and went bright red, luckily all eyes were front and nobody spotted my red and concerned face, he went on to tell us that Mrs O'Malley had to clear it up, this didnt help as "Mrs O" was genuinely lovely.
Everyone knew it was "Sacco", he did it regularly, it was his thing, He is dead now, drugs, along with his older brother, very sad but I will never forget the stinging embarrassment he caused me that day, and he nicked a bottle of Foam Shrimps from my bag, Karma can be a b
h.Rawwr said:
LeadFarmer said:
Why do folk choose to use the cubicle next to the one I'm sat in, when other cubicles are free?
One set of toilets at work have 3 cubicles in a row. If I go sit in the end one then often someone will come in and sit in the middle one next to me.
What happened to the unspoken rule of leaving at least a one cubicle gap????
I thought that only applied to urinals?One set of toilets at work have 3 cubicles in a row. If I go sit in the end one then often someone will come in and sit in the middle one next to me.
What happened to the unspoken rule of leaving at least a one cubicle gap????
The middle one is the buffer cubicle, only used in a emergency or by lavatory mavericks.
creationracing said:
I earn a living visiting different oil platforms, and there are a few stories to be shared...
A few from back in my offshore days.We used to work on a rig and being the lowest of the low wireline scum, didn't get to stay inside the proper accomodation.
There was a big shabby Portacabin on the roof of the accomodation with 2, 4 man bedrooms and a shared toilet between them.
This portacabin always did smell a little funky because they didn't run the air-con when people weren't staying but one day we arrived on board, opened the door and were met by the most eye watering, gagging smell.
We left the door open for a bit to air it out then decided on a forensic search of the cabing to see if there was a dead seagull or something trapped in a vent or whatever.
A few minutes later there was a cry of "Urgh, dirty b
ds, I've found it" and looked out of the window to see one of the lads sprinting across the top of the accomodation with the toilet brush, holding it out like a stty Olympic torch.Somebody had crimped off a monster, obviously tried to poke it around the bend and had failed miserably, leaving it impaled on the brush which had been returned back to the holder.
The scene could only have been improved if the chariots of fire music was playing as it got carried to the edge of the helideck to get launched like a s
tty German stick grenade.On another small platform, as you got off the chopper, there was a sign saying "This way to the Admin office' or similar which is where you went and checked in, got your cabin assignment etc.
Arriving one day, the sign said "This way to the exhibit"
The sign led you down a few stairs, with a few more signs pointing the way until you reached the boot room toilets.
There in Trap 2 was probaly the biggest poop I've ever seen. It was labeled as Turdzilla.
Probably the diameter of the old Fairy Liquid bottles and jammed around the bend plus peeking over the rim.
Whoever layed it must have had to rise up as they shat and that one sat there all week as the cleaners and motorman refused to touch it.
Another one was when 5 of us got marooned for 3 days on one of the small unmanned sattelites off the appropriately named LOGGS platform because it was foggy.
The toilet packed up during this so people were going down to the lowest deck to crap through the grating into the sea below.
Inevitably, there was one enormous diameter and I mean huge turd left there that wouldn't go through the gaps.
Nobody would admit to it which left us all eyeing each other suspiciously like the scene from the Pink Panther.
Frank7 said:
A tad went in the bowl, but the greater part went all over the seat and the floor.
Even with the worst bouts of Immodium-free Delhi Belly, in 50 degree heat in the middle of India, having had nothing but dodge-city Chicken Curry and glasses of rainwater from roadside shacks, I have never even been close to stting on the floor/seat of a bog. It's not that difficult to use a toilet, surely??? (Unless you were about 3 and couldnt reach the seat, in which case forgiven)
After coming out of hospital after a week, I realised I hadn't actually evacuated my bowels for the best part of seven days. I parked myself on the toilet at home and everything started out normally.
Unfortunately, I can only best describe my poo as being like an inverted wine bottle. Easing out the neck part of the bottle was easy but, my god, when the full body tried to come out it was terrible. The whole thing must've been more dense than lead. I had to stop pushing and regain composure three times throughout the ordeal before it finally plopped out, slapping the porcelain with a dull thud.
The real problems started when I tried to get rid of it. Literally nothing happened after the first flush. The second flush just made it wobble about a bit and the third flush just got rid of the toilet paper, leaving this giant, hulking slab of dung semi-submerged in the pan.
Ultimately, the only way I could get rid of it was by slicing it up like a yule log using a wire coathanger and flushing it in portions. I then sneaked outside and deposited the poo-flecked coathanger in my neighbour's bin. I think it was about two hours before my anus fully closed after that. Sad times.
Unfortunately, I can only best describe my poo as being like an inverted wine bottle. Easing out the neck part of the bottle was easy but, my god, when the full body tried to come out it was terrible. The whole thing must've been more dense than lead. I had to stop pushing and regain composure three times throughout the ordeal before it finally plopped out, slapping the porcelain with a dull thud.
The real problems started when I tried to get rid of it. Literally nothing happened after the first flush. The second flush just made it wobble about a bit and the third flush just got rid of the toilet paper, leaving this giant, hulking slab of dung semi-submerged in the pan.
Ultimately, the only way I could get rid of it was by slicing it up like a yule log using a wire coathanger and flushing it in portions. I then sneaked outside and deposited the poo-flecked coathanger in my neighbour's bin. I think it was about two hours before my anus fully closed after that. Sad times.
krallicious said:
Is it still open? That and Pulse were the go to st holes in the early 2000s. One did have a worryingly sticky carpet...
Pulse? You young springer, I remember going in when it was Crystals cabaret club, Tubes and Sammy's were the clubs!t holes in the early 2000s. One did have a worryingly sticky carpet...Yes, both still open, Echo's is still called that, Pulse has changed names again and from what I'm told they opened up both rooms into one big one. Busters over the road went, became Vice Versa, not sure what that is now, I live about 5 miles away but rarely visit Loughborough town centre.
Keeping with the thread I remember one weekend in the early '90's someone decided to empty their bowels on the tiled floor of the Fleece pub toilet in Loughborough, going from the cubicle to the door so crapping while walking away.
Bar staff weren't too happy about it, no cleaner there at night.
Edited by Promised Land on Tuesday 5th September 14:36
Promised Land said:
krallicious said:
Is it still open? That and Pulse were the go to st holes in the early 2000s. One did have a worryingly sticky carpet...
Pulse? You young springer, I remember going in when it was Crystals cabaret club, Tubes and Sammy's were the clubs!t holes in the early 2000s. One did have a worryingly sticky carpet...Yes, both still open, Echo's is still called that, Pulse has changed names again and from what I'm told they opened up both rooms into one big one. Busters over the road went, became Vice Versa, not sure what that is now, I live about 5 miles away but rarely visit Loughborough town centre.
Keeping with the thread I remember one weekend in the early '90's someone decided to empty their bowels on the tiled floor of the Fleece pub toilet in Loughborough, going from the cubicle to the door so crapping while walking away.
Bar staff weren't too happy about it, no cleaner there at night.
Edited by Promised Land on Tuesday 5th September 14:36
I was hospitalised early last year for an emergency lumbar discectomy with the unfortunate outcome that nerve damage had already gone past the point of becoming permanent. Essentially this means my bladder and bowel are both neurologically dysfunctional - paralysed, you could say, and in some places completely numb as well.
In the immediate aftermath of surgery the situation was very uncertain and it was a case of waiting to see what functions re-established over the coming days and weeks. I was acutely conscious of the fact that I hadn't had a number two for a number of days and felt somewhat congested. Urination was also difficult, very strained, and I was under strict instructions to piss in a bottle for measuring, after which the nurses would conduct a bladder scan to check for retention.
I have enough tales of fecal woe, from those two weeks of my life, to keep pistonheads happy for years.
Here's an email I sent to my uncle from my hospital bed, describing one notable instance.
"One thing they have been really monitoring closely since the catheter came out is retention of urine... basically I piss in a bottle which is measured every time, then they ultrasound my bladder to see how much is left. I'm doing very well - last night for example a very full 730ml in the bottle and approx 40ml left in my bladder. Its a bit of a strain going but I find myself having to relax and also "pretend" I'm going at which point it comes out. All good and well. I don't have much of a perception of fullness / urgency though, so I am monitoring my intake of water, watching the clock and working out roughly when I'm due another go.
So yesterday I ask the nurses for a bottle but Jim (old boy from the next bed) was in the nearest male toilet/shower and he's gonna be a good half hour, so I was taken to a ladies toilet just down the corridor. It was somehow nicer than the mens, nice padded backrest on the loo and some flowers in there... "this is nice" I thought as I joked with the nurse that I would leave the toilet seat down.
Because of my poo stubbornness and the fact I hadn't had any unassisted expulsion in a whole week, I thought this time I'd just stand in front of the loo and hold the bottle, as it easier to piss that way, right? I filled the bottle, my biggest one to date. Happy days.
Until I stepped back to pull up my trousers and my left foot skidded in a nice big soft squishy turd which had basically slid right out under the straining without me even feeling, hearing or smelling it - the sneaky little bugger! Amazingly it had totally missed my trousers etc and I was intact apart from the sole of my slipper. I panicked a bit but thought hey I can deal with it... I mean this could happen at the office in the future so you either sit and cry on the toilet or you manage right?
So here I am trying to clean myself - and the room - up, pick up what I can from the floor etc except by now there are now stty footprints all over the floor and this perfect flowery ladies safe haven is starting to resemble something of a crime scene.
Anyway I got myself sorted out, cleared up as good as I could, rang the nurses bell and when the inevitably stunning young nurse opened the door nervously I sat there grinning on the loo, handing her a full bottle of piss and asking if she had any new slippers I could borrow - my beloved tartan ones sitting there glaring at us from the confinement of the bin. She surveyed the scene and went to fetch a mop. Didn't say a word."
In the immediate aftermath of surgery the situation was very uncertain and it was a case of waiting to see what functions re-established over the coming days and weeks. I was acutely conscious of the fact that I hadn't had a number two for a number of days and felt somewhat congested. Urination was also difficult, very strained, and I was under strict instructions to piss in a bottle for measuring, after which the nurses would conduct a bladder scan to check for retention.
I have enough tales of fecal woe, from those two weeks of my life, to keep pistonheads happy for years.
Here's an email I sent to my uncle from my hospital bed, describing one notable instance.
"One thing they have been really monitoring closely since the catheter came out is retention of urine... basically I piss in a bottle which is measured every time, then they ultrasound my bladder to see how much is left. I'm doing very well - last night for example a very full 730ml in the bottle and approx 40ml left in my bladder. Its a bit of a strain going but I find myself having to relax and also "pretend" I'm going at which point it comes out. All good and well. I don't have much of a perception of fullness / urgency though, so I am monitoring my intake of water, watching the clock and working out roughly when I'm due another go.
So yesterday I ask the nurses for a bottle but Jim (old boy from the next bed) was in the nearest male toilet/shower and he's gonna be a good half hour, so I was taken to a ladies toilet just down the corridor. It was somehow nicer than the mens, nice padded backrest on the loo and some flowers in there... "this is nice" I thought as I joked with the nurse that I would leave the toilet seat down.
Because of my poo stubbornness and the fact I hadn't had any unassisted expulsion in a whole week, I thought this time I'd just stand in front of the loo and hold the bottle, as it easier to piss that way, right? I filled the bottle, my biggest one to date. Happy days.
Until I stepped back to pull up my trousers and my left foot skidded in a nice big soft squishy turd which had basically slid right out under the straining without me even feeling, hearing or smelling it - the sneaky little bugger! Amazingly it had totally missed my trousers etc and I was intact apart from the sole of my slipper. I panicked a bit but thought hey I can deal with it... I mean this could happen at the office in the future so you either sit and cry on the toilet or you manage right?
So here I am trying to clean myself - and the room - up, pick up what I can from the floor etc except by now there are now s
tty footprints all over the floor and this perfect flowery ladies safe haven is starting to resemble something of a crime scene.Anyway I got myself sorted out, cleared up as good as I could, rang the nurses bell and when the inevitably stunning young nurse opened the door nervously I sat there grinning on the loo, handing her a full bottle of piss and asking if she had any new slippers I could borrow - my beloved tartan ones sitting there glaring at us from the confinement of the bin. She surveyed the scene and went to fetch a mop. Didn't say a word."
I've MS and when I'm having one of my relapses I often find that I'm numb from the chest down. Last about 2 months or so, makes it difficult to walk and I can't drive. The weirdest sensation is that when I sit down it feels like I'm sat on something soft n squidgy, and not my usual soft n squidgy backside. Going to the bathroom means I have to just watch n listen to determine when I'm done, can't feel a thing. And wiping feels like I'm wiping someone else's backside.
A bit off topic, never left a loo in a state worse than I found it, but going is way more creative than it used to be.
Of all the literature that they've made me read since this was diagnosed this wasn't mentioned.
A bit off topic, never left a loo in a state worse than I found it, but going is way more creative than it used to be.
Of all the literature that they've made me read since this was diagnosed this wasn't mentioned.
On a shift at Gatwick one evening I discovered a relatively solid turd that was "trapped" at the end of one of the travellators, rolling happily over and over but poised to be trodden in by any unsuspecting traveller. It looked like a Mars Bar until you got too close.
Not really sure how it got there but someone remarked later how many of the Arabic men in traditional dress would be unlikely to wear underwear, nor would the children, and it was most likely one of them, given the area was close to where Emirates air lines often landed.
Fortunately the cleaners got to it before anyone else.
Another story relates to a flight I had to go and meet, arriving from Detroit.
My role, in collecting and assisting disabled passengers, meant I was at the door waiting with a wheelchair for whoever disembarked and needed help, but on this occasion I was taken aback somewhat by the senior flight attendant coming over and asking me if I had a spare wheelchair that I wouldn't need later. Not quite sure what she meant but yes, we had other wheelchairs spare that I could get, and she suggested I go and collect it.
A young chap with some physical condition had sadly had "an accident" but the extent of this accident was horrendous despite the clean up efforts of those on board, there was poo all over his parents clothes, the floor around where they sat. I cannot imagine how bad it would have been for anyone in the vicinity or how long before landing this had occured.
Later on I happened to be handling the departing flight with customers and the airline were having to offload people from that row of seats because it had penetrated the seat cover layer beyond what could be reasonably changed by what the engineers at Gatwick had in stock - whilst they do keep spare seat covers, this needed new seat cushions and all sorts apparently.
That wheelchair I lent them, I gave it to our cleaning staff, it came back clean as far as I know, thankfully.
Not really sure how it got there but someone remarked later how many of the Arabic men in traditional dress would be unlikely to wear underwear, nor would the children, and it was most likely one of them, given the area was close to where Emirates air lines often landed.
Fortunately the cleaners got to it before anyone else.
Another story relates to a flight I had to go and meet, arriving from Detroit.
My role, in collecting and assisting disabled passengers, meant I was at the door waiting with a wheelchair for whoever disembarked and needed help, but on this occasion I was taken aback somewhat by the senior flight attendant coming over and asking me if I had a spare wheelchair that I wouldn't need later. Not quite sure what she meant but yes, we had other wheelchairs spare that I could get, and she suggested I go and collect it.
A young chap with some physical condition had sadly had "an accident" but the extent of this accident was horrendous despite the clean up efforts of those on board, there was poo all over his parents clothes, the floor around where they sat. I cannot imagine how bad it would have been for anyone in the vicinity or how long before landing this had occured.
Later on I happened to be handling the departing flight with customers and the airline were having to offload people from that row of seats because it had penetrated the seat cover layer beyond what could be reasonably changed by what the engineers at Gatwick had in stock - whilst they do keep spare seat covers, this needed new seat cushions and all sorts apparently.
That wheelchair I lent them, I gave it to our cleaning staff, it came back clean as far as I know, thankfully.
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