My dad loves to tell this story, given half an excuse:
He works on a large country park, and years ago when it was first being developed he was in charge of a couple of YTS trainees that had been placed there. In the afternoon of their first day, one of the YTS lads announced that he needed to use the toilet - but as the park was in its infancy, there were no 'facilities' for (literally) miles around. So, armed with the bogroll carried in the Land Rover for just such emergencies, he disappeared into the bushes to answer the call of nature.
Time passed, and eventually the lad re-emerged looking very sheepish and asked to be driven back to the main depot (where there is a shower block). He was wearing dungaree-style overalls which, once unbuttoned, had obviously spread out on the ground behind him. So not only had he managed to crap in his overalls, but the first thing he knew about it was when he tried to hitch them back up again and a fresh turd hit him at the back of the head.
To add insult to injury he wasn't qualified to drive and everyone who was refused to drive him because he smelled so bad. The poor guy had to walk several miles back to the depot with that morning's breakfast stuck on the back of his head.