A nothing to do with fitness story.
True story… Or I could have fabricated the entire thing.
In my previous life I worked in emergency services.
A few years ago whilst on duty in a far away place, London I was tasked with bringing a person detained by Police into custody.
A middle aged black gentleman and from his casual attire I guessed he was from Jamaica. I think he had some of the Jamaican flag colours on his clothing.
He wore a string vest and a shell tracksuit bottoms with a pair of trainers.
Anyhow this gentleman had been detained for drug importation and it was my job to take him from where he’d been arrested to custody in North London.
Whilst waiting to book him in he asked to go to the toilet which I tried to put off and postpone as it’s not ideal to have someone arrested for drug importation to spend much time in the vicinity of a toilet.
So after a short time it smelt as though he’d taken matters into his own hands and bypassed the use of the toilet.
But again he persisted and asked to go to the toilet. And so I was forced to go and make the request to the custody sergeant to see if he could use the facilities.
Reluctantly the custody sergeant agreed but only on the condition that he was accompanied by yours truly.
And so in we both went and my prisoner hurriedly stripped down to empty his bowels. There was a crescendo of noise that followed and then silence.
We both remained in the room for a minute or two before I asked if he was finished.
He grunted what I guessed was a yes response and he began to rise.
It was at this point that I believe he realised that his string vest had unwittingly become the goal netting for his football turd.
I on the other hand was a few steps behind at this stage, something that I would later regret.
With a mixture of surprise and shock the prisoner jumped up and violently pulled his pants up.
What followed reminded me of the scene from Pulp Fiction where Julius narrowly avoids being shot by the druggies who shot the wall, the door in fact everywhere except his head.
A spray of excrement flew past my ear and mouth and the walls behind and around me were pebble dashed with a furious pelting of … shit.
Both of us in shock stood silent and still.
I slowly regained my faculties and began to check myself for damage ie shit spray.
I’m glad to report that I survived unscathed, however my poor prisoner was now wearing a heavy nappy of football turd and looking remarkably sorry for himself.
It took me a solid 10 mins to relay what had happened to the custody sergeant as I was laughing so hard. (obviously the human rights of the prisoner weren’t overlooked for long)
Later whilst in interview with the prisoner’s solicitor I was asked “And can you tell me exactly how did my client become covered in excrement?” When I relayed the series of events to the solicitor, he too saw the funny side.