SONG CHALLENGE WINNER!

The Song Challenge:   Lost your 'Olympic' spirit? Here's a little story that should help to inspire all of us to 'go for the gold' . . . So, Go For It Challenge!rs!!   Thirty contestants from around the globe recently gathered in London for the second annual round of the Official World Dung Spitting Championships. CNN's Amanda Kibel was there to witness the 'action':   "It might not be the most physically demanding sport in the world, but mentally, it's a real challenge. All you need, say competitors, is a good lung capacity, limber lips, a strong mind and stomach, and a prime pellet of animal dung. The aim of the game is simple: overcome the resistance to placing the dung in your mouth and then, spit it out.   The all-important dung selection is first, and the competition was fierce for pieces of the finest droppings, gathered on a game farm in Africa, yielded by the Kudu, a small deer-like animal. And clearly, not just any old dung will do. A worthy pellet must be firm, not crumbly, and preferably, not too fresh.   As the first training session unfolded, interest from some passersby was high, but controversy dogged this competition from the start. One woman passerby commented, "You're spitting! And there's a rule about spitting in this country.  There is, there's a bylaw about spitting."   The games must go on. Competition day dawned, and competitors embarked on the vital warm-ups (gulping large portions of golden ale and dark stout). Mouths well lubricated, they spit their best, but in the end, it's a sudden-death playoff.   The Dungmeister, the reigning champion, the man who, in the past, has spat a mighty ten meters, faces off against an unknown, a rank outsider! A new champion is born, and he pays tribute to his technique: "I use the little pointed end (of the dung) towards the back. That seems to work."   But it takes more than just technique. Dung spitters say that what it's really all about is a simple case of mind over waste matter."

A Sad Dung Ditty by Naemanson

Naemanson's Comments:  Can I join in the fun? Here is a true story... 

Now listen you sailors unto my sad ditty,
Of what happened to Jack in old London City,
And when I am done you all will agree,
No worse thing could happen to you or to me. 

We sailed from Capetown with a cargo so rare,
This cargo to none that you've known can compare,
We loaded it all into Hold Number Two,
Such a stink you'd not find in any of the crew. 

When we arrived all the people did cheer,
To see all the fuss you'd think it quite queer,
The cargo unloaded they all stood and stared,
And all held their noses and gulped for fresh air. 

Now the wagons were loaded and headed to town,
I followed behind to know where they were bound,
And when we arrived I thought it so fine,
The pub treated the men to free stout, ale, and wine. 

"Free drinks!" says I, "now what could this be,"
Such a cargo as this I just had to see,
They opened the crate with a great hue and cry,
I held my breath as I watched for to spy. 

But all I could see from where I did sit,
The crate was all full of a great pile of shit.
What the hell is this, I said and I laughed,
Then the publican gave a beer which I quaffed. 

And when I had drunk it they gave me a spoon,
They said I had to pay the piper for his tune,
If I drank the free beer I had to compete,
And they lined me up with the others on the street. 

Then one by one the others came too,
With spoons and free beers a right jolly crew,
We all drank together, not a drop did we spill,
Then stepped to the pile our spoons we did fill. 

Then I watched in horror as they each took a bite
With mouths full of shit, they were a ghastly sight.
Then they all looked at me and I knew what I must do,
I opened my mouth and filled it with poo. 

Then I gagged and I choked, and I reeled and I spun,
I saw all the others laugh at the fun.
I made a great surge and out I did spit.
That mouthful of vile disgusting old shit. 

It flew thirty feet and a little bit more,
The crowd around me ranted and roared.
They gave me more beer and I drank it down,
And I rode on their shoulders around and around. 

So now I'm the dungmeister and I rule the street,
I'm treated with kindness by all that I meet,
I'm the king of shit spitters whereever I go,
I'm only out done by all politicoes. 

Back to Top