Found this and though it might amuse... It's from the Simon Mayo Radio two prog.
I love listening to your Drivetime confessions slot - I particularly liked the one about the goat, which lightened my long journey home from Oxford.
It reminded me that I have a dark secret, way back from 1990 when I was the conscientious young mother of a two year old toddler. I was always very careful to ensure that my baby was brought up in a 'green' and caring manner - home made food, very few sweets, cloth nappies, eco-friendly detergents, no litter or waste and a lot of time spent teaching manners, good behaviour in public and consideration for others at all times. Toilet training was of course high on my perfect parental agenda. One day, I picked him up from Nursery after a long and tiring day at work - I'm an archaeologist - and called at a large national DIY chainstore on the way home to buy some right-on cork floor tiles for my bathroom. My son, who had just proudly abandoned nappies for the 'proper toilet' was not the most patient of children, and a moment of uncharacteristic inattention from me whilst choosing the tiles saw him toddle off and become 'lost' in the store. Having motherly visions of him being buried under a pile of bricks, or possibly being run over by a fork lift truck, I abandoned the tiling department and quickly ran to look for him. I didn't have far to go. I soon heard his little voice, piping up clearly from a nearby display of gleaming ready to fit demonstration bathrooms.
To my quiet horror, he was proudly sitting on the display toilet with his trousers round his ankles, doing a 'number 2'.
'Mummy' he proudly shouted, 'I did it - I'm on the toilet... no paper!!'. Unusually for me, I remained very very calm and quietly lifted him from the seat, firmly pulled his pants up and softly closed the lid on the number 2 which lay on the floor beneath the unplumbed dummy toilet. 'It's ok, love, you did well' I whispered, fearing an all out tantrum due to the lack of bottom wiping and hand washing. 'You can have a lolly when we get home if you are quiet all the way to the car'.
Abandoning my quest for floor covering, I moved briskly away from the bathroom section, and out into the car park before anyone noticed the lingering smell from the display toilet. I felt like an absconding shop lifter, desperate to put as much distance between us and that display as possible.
I have always felt awfully guilty for leaving the enormous poo behind in their bathroom display for an unwitting sales person or customer to discover at leisure. I just couldn't face the embarrassment of confessing on the spot, and listening to them announce 'cleaner required in bathroom isle 6' on the tannoy for everyone else to hear whilst I stood by holding a demanding toddler who would sure be loudly inquiring as to why there was no toilet paper. I just went home, thankfully distributed gin for me and copious highly colored sweeties to my grubby little boy (who is now nearly 22), and have never happily returned to the DIY store since.