I once set up on the banks of the Trent, quite happily in my chosen swim, and as I was sitting down with a cuppa having congratulated myself for getting everything set and lines in the water in a reasonable time, the waft of schit hit me
Some dirty bugger had been using the bushes to the side of me as a toilet for what looked like more than a few days stay. Bog paper and schit in a pile behind the bush. Obviously the production of more than a couple of days, but why the heck they couldn't have used a bucket and bag I do not know.
I complained to the bailiff who came round shortly after and lent him my folding spade to clear it up, which he wasn't impressed about doing