It was 13:20 on Thursday afternoon when Metropolitan Police patrol car D431 pulled into the ASDA car park in Barnet, finding a space close to the main entrance to the store. The two occupants sat there for a short while. WPC Ken Leigh was 27 years old and one of the more experienced officers on the shift.
His colleague was 22-year old PC Duncan Preedy, only in his second year as a copper. He’d made the decision to apply to the Met after trying various other jobs after leaving school, none of which he’d got any satisfaction from and he had almost applied for the police on a whim, but once accepted he found that he really enjoyed it – sometimes a bit scatty (dozy, the sergeant called him), not always the quickest to pay attention to detail but nonetheless his enthusiasm and whole-hearted approach had made him a popular, albeit open to mickey-taking, colleague.
“Are you getting something to eat?” Duncan queried
“I might just grab a packet of crisps, in case we don’t get a chance to get something later” Ken replied, “what about you?”
“Nah, I’m not hungry, I could do with a drink, though”
They both got out of the car and went into the store. No sooner had they entered than Ken looked around and Duncan had vanished, completely out of sight. He tutted to himself and went off in search of the snack bar, returning a few minutes later with his crisps, but still no sign of Duncan. As He waited by the doors, He noticed the customer toilets behind his and, having always been conscious of the advice to “go when you get a chance”, He decided to nip in quickly and take advantage of the opportunity.
When He came out a couple of minutes later, He could see Duncan at one of the self-service check-outs, fumbling with his money and looking awkward and clumsy as he made his purchases. He completed the transaction and bounded over to where Ken was waiting.
“I’ve just been for a quick wee, are you going to go while we’re here?” He asked him. He shook his head, almost ignoring the question and quickly added, “Hey, look what I’ve just bought?”
They were already walking back to the car as Duncan opened the plastic carrier bag and produced a pair of thick-looking dark grey socks, “They’re thermal socks, they’ll keep my feet warm, you know my feet are always cold” he grinned.
As they got to the car and climbed in, Duncan was still admiringly looking at the socks he seemed so pleased to have purchased, “I think I’ll put them on now” he said, re-opening the passenger door, swinging his legs outside and bending forwards to unlace one of his shoes.
“You can’t do it out here!” Ken reprimanded him,
“Why not?” asked Duncan
“Because it won’t look very dignified, will it, you sitting there changing your socks, people can see – if you want to do it, nip back into the store and pop into the toilets, they’re just inside the door. I’ve just been you might want to use the opportunity to go too?”
“Oh, I’ll leave it, then” replied a seemingly disappointed Duncan, completely ignoring his advice about using the loo, “I’ll do it later” and with that, he pulled his feet back into the car, closed the door and opened the plastic bag again to reveal a two-litre bottle of Coca-Cola. He unscrewed the bottle top, producing a loud fizzing sound, and instantly lifted the huge bottle to his lips, taking three or four large gulps and making his eyes water as the bubbles stung the back of his nose.
He waited a second and again began to swig eagerly from the bottle, taking several more large gulps before letting out a loud laddish-type of burp.
“Oh charming!” said Ken, “you’re not going to drink all that, are you?”
“Why, do you want some?” grinned Duncan, “taking another mouthful as the contents of the bottle gurgled and he downed another vast amount.
“No, I don’t want any,” said Ken, “but you’ll be wanting the loo if you drink much more.”
Duncan laughed mockingly, wiped his lips with his hand and continued to swig down the contents, burping a couple more times and lifting the bottle to look proudly at how much of the cola he had managed to consume so quickly.
As Ken drove out of the car-park, He turned to Duncan, looked at the near-empty two-litre bottle and said, “If you’re dying for a wee in half an hour, don’t expect me to drive around looking for a toilet for you.”
Ken turned right into another residential avenue and spoke to Duncan without turning his head to look at him, “Pick that empty bottle up, will you? It’s driving me mad keep rolling on the floor every time we turn a corner.” Duncan bent down, reached between his shoes and got hold of the empty two-litre bottle, picking it up and returning to his upright sitting position, letting out a little moan of anguish as he did so.
Ken continued, “I don’t know where you put all that liquid, there’s nothing of you, you’re as skinny as a rake!” Duncan grumbled, almost beneath his breath,
“I know where all this lot’s gone, into my bladder”
“Oh stop moaning!” Ken replied,
“I’ve said we’ll be heading back to the nick soon.”
“How soon?” asked Duncan,
“I told you 15 minutes back I was busting to go.”
“You shouldn’t have drunk all that coke as quickly” Ken grinned back, “if we don’t get a call in the next 10 minutes I’ll let them know that we’re heading back for a break”.
His smile broadened, “If they object, I’ll tell them you’re almost wetting yourself”.
“I’m not almost wetting myself!” Duncan retorted testily, but then added quietly, “but I flipping will be if we don’t get back soon – how long will it take us to get back?”
“From here? About 10 to 15 minutes maximum, I reckon”
“God, I’ll be at the end of my waiting time – and I’m not joking either” and Duncan pulled his legs together and gently jigged his knees up and down.
At 14:20, Ken finished his brief radio call,
“Okay, all sorted, nothing doing it seems so we’re going to head back for refreshments. Do you want me to go the direct route or the scenic route?”
“Just bloody put your foot down” said Duncan, “I’m absolutely gagging his. I mean it.”
No sooner had Duncan stopped speaking than the radio crackled into life and Ken’s brief conversation spelled out disastrous news, “Okay, on the way” He said as He indicated right and turned into the adjacent street, “you heard that, there’s some incident at the cemetery gates, we’ve got to assist, it’s only six or seven minutes from here.”
“Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t!” Duncan swore loudly and said no more. Ken glanced across and saw his young colleague raise his head to the roof, then almost drop his chin on to his chest. A furthers 15 minutes later, vehicle D431 was still parked across the cemetery gates, having been joined by patrol car C183. PC’s Paul Victor and Chris Crane were standing outside their vehicle having been joined by WPC Ken Leigh
“Yep, just been confirmed, he’s definitely wanted on warrant, you’ll have to take him back to the nick to get him checked in,” said PC Crane, “Me and Duncan will wait here with the other two lads and do the necessary checks on them and their car. I reckon they’re probably clear, but you need to get mouthy Jim-lad back asap – just as soon as your colleague’s finished taking the final details.” Ken glanced across to his right. All three occupants of the car were still sitting inside and PC Duncan Preedy was leaning in through the driver’s window.
From where He was standing, Ken could see that Duncan was leaning right inside the car, with his elbows resting on the bottom of the wound-down window-frame. He was standing with his taut body almost in an L-shape, bent over at the waist and with his bum sticking out behind him. He was constantly grinding his legs together, almost rubbing his thighs against each other and lifting first one foot, then the other one, off the ground. His backside was twitching, and he was swaying from side to side, with sudden frantic movements of his legs meaning that he couldn’t stand still. PC’s Victor and Crane seemed totally oblivious to Duncan’s obvious discomfort, but Ken didn’t really know what to do.
They were going to have to take the lad wanted on warrant back to the nick and He honestly didn’t know how Duncan was going to last out. If they had an arrested person in the car they simply had to have two officers constantly with him, without any exceptions at all, so there was no way they could stop off anywhere for Duncan to find a toilet. On the other hand, if He suggested that He and Duncan could wait with the other two lads and carry out the checks instead, he still wouldn’t be able to go for a pee – there simply wasn’t anywhere.
Imagine the furiousness if a uniformed police officer was seen urinating in a cemetery! Ken’s heart was fluttering slightly in anticipation of the next 20 minutes. He was also feeling somewhat guilty. Knowing that his colleague was bursting for a wee had been quite amusing and He had had visions of drawing his colleagues’ attention to his predicament just before arriving back at the nick, so that some of them could form a reception party to greet him and see his dash for the gents. That could have provided as much lasting amusement as when PC Bartley had almost wet himself on the coach trip. But this was serious – someone desperate to go could be comical but Duncan was going to be in severe pain by the time they got back, or even worse, not being able to wait. His tummy churned slightly at the prospect of Duncan having an accident in his trousers and pants. That was unthinkable, and he’d never lose the tag of something like that happening.
“Erm, Chris, the only thing is, I think Duncan’s dying to go to the toilet and it’s going to take us about 20 minutes to get back”, He felt his cheeks blush slightly.
“Well, he’s a big boy, isn’t he?” PC Crane replied, without any emotion. “I bet that’s what he’s told you, anyway!” grinned PC Victor, and the two officers laughed.
“Go on, get going then, if he needs the loo that badly, we’ll start sorting out the other two,” said PC Crane, “and don’t forget that your prisoner’s been nicked, you know the procedure, don’t you?” Ken nodded and walked over to his colleague.
“Come on then” He said to the mouthy lad who was now their arrestee, “get in the back of our car and we’re taking you back to Barnet police station. The lad climbed out and arrogantly ambled across to the other car, taking his time to clamber into the back seat. Ken turned to Duncan, “are you alright?” PC Preedy looked totally panic-stricken, his cheeks crimson and his eyes wide open as he bounced silently on the spot,
“Ken, I can’t get in the car like this, I just can’t, I’m honestly not going to make it.”
“Get in, Duncan, just get in, I don’t know what we’re going to do, but just get in the car.”
The arrested lad who was called Ben sat motionless in the back of the car whilst outside Ken stood at the driver’s door with Duncan on the other side of the vehicle. After their brief exchange of words, they just looked at each other before Ken climbed into the driver’s seat, ignoring the anguished plea of PC Preedy, “Ken, please, please … Ken!”
As He started the engine He again glanced over at Duncan who was gingerly lowering himself into the passenger seat. He sat down as if the seat was made of ice, almost unwilling to let his backside touch the cloth. As the car pulled away, Duncan was already having to change his posture to help him keep control and he twisted slightly, pulling his legs towards him and pressing his lower back against the rear of the seat, then sliding forwards slightly and shifting awkwardly from side to side.
Ken was watching out of the corner of his eye but in the back seat, Ben had spotted that something was not right,
“What’s up with him, he can’t sit still”
“Keep quiet please”, said Ken
“What’s up, mate, you sitting on your handcuffs or something?” Ben persisted.
“Oh God!” Duncan mouthed to himself, pressing his knees together and as quickly opening his legs again so that he could plunge his hand between his thighs and as quickly extract it again.
“He needs a piss, don’t he?” Ben exclaimed with absolute delight.
“Shut it! Now!” snapped Duncan, scarcely able to muster the energy to focus on anything but his frantic struggle to contain himself.
“He does, bloody brilliant!” laughed Ben, “you gonna piss your pants, then, copper?”
In the front seats, both police officers ignored the raucous laughter from the back seat. Ken could hardly concentrate on his driving and now that the game was up as far their passenger was concerned, Duncan had little reason to try and conceal his predicament,
“I’m serious, I’m not going to make it back in time”
“Ten minutes Duncan and we’ll be there”
“I can’t do it! I can’t wait!” Duncan replied in a whisper, at the same time sliding himself forwards so that he was practically sitting on the front edge of his seat.
“This is awesome, the copper’s about to wet himself!” Ben was fumbling in his pocket and suddenly produced a mobile phone, “I’m getting this on film – a plod having a slash in his pants!”
“Put that ‘phone away!” shouted Ken, “Now! Otherwise I’m stopping the car and your phone will be confiscated.”
The prospect of pulling over to deal with something else was too much for Duncan to bear, another delay would be fatal and he suddenly felt his resistance weakening dramatically. He was already in real pain and a few stabbing sensations in his belly caused him to act instantly to prevent a humiliation of the most unimaginable proportions.
“Just keep going, Ken, please, please! Where’s the bottle, pass me the bottle, please! Now, please!”
Ken looked straight at him, “What bottle?”
“The coke bottle, where is it?” Duncan was darting his head around the car looking frantically. If he could hardly believe what he was about to do, Ken was simply agog as He could see that his young colleague was starting to undo his belt and the top of his trousers – sitting in the car, in front of his and with a prisoner in the back seat!
As Duncan slid himself furthers forwards, pulling his legs back towards him once again as if to adopt of posture of perching on the very edge of his seat, Ken could hardly get the words out of his mouth,
“It’s gone, the bottle’s gone, I threw it in the bin when we pulled up at the cemetery!”
Duncan, his face crimson and contorted with anguish, simply gasped, “What?”
“I didn’t know, Duncan, I got rid of it, you can’t do it anyway, you can’t do that!”
Ben was almost off his seat in the back, hugging the back of Duncan’s seat, his mobile phone still clasped in his hand,
“He’s going to have a piss! Right here in the car! Look, he’s about to do a piss!”
In the passenger seat, PC Duncan Preedy had both hands gripping the sides of his chair so that he could raise himself slightly from the seat. With both hands pressing down on the chair and his arms taut, he lifted himself a couple of inches in his sitting position, like someone about to comically break wind.
“Stop! Stop!” he yelled, “Stop the car! Please! Stop!”
WPC Ken Leigh instinctively pulled in and brought the car to an abrupt halt, as Duncan pressed down on the door handle, swinging his left leg towards the opening door, causing just enough movement to feel a warm tingling sensation beneath one of his bum cheeks.
As he swung his other leg towards the door and out of the car, he was in a semi-standing posture whilst still half inside the vehicle and his virtual stumble onto the pavement left Ken staring at the seat, looking in disbelief at the small, dark, wet stain – about 5cm in diameter – which was freshly glistening on the passenger seat.
In the back seat, Ben was almost propelling himself across the back of the chair in front of him to get a better look at what was incredibly happening right before his eyes.
What was happening was that the young police constable was next to the vehicle, with the door fully open and half-shielding him from view in the residential street. Ken and Ben could clearly see though, and Duncan was half-squatting on the pavement, right next to the vehicle, gradually sinking down into a full squat posture. He was gripping the side of the door with his left hand and his feet were placed about 20cm apart, with the soles of his shoes flat on the ground.
He was groaning intermittently as right between his black shoes, little droplets were appearing on the pavement, each one slightly bigger than the previous one, merging into a wet stain which was rapidly turning the pavement a darker shade and developing into a small, growing and glistening puddle.
Duncan didn’t turn his head towards Ken, nor did he attempt to avert his gaze from the fixed stare to the front of him, but with his voice almost breaking, he simply, meekly and in abject defeat, whimpered, “I’m doing it!”
Ken had both hands covering his lower face and watched on as the drips from Duncan’s backside merged with the trickle emanating from the crotch of his police trousers into a steady stream which ran right through his trousers, hitting the pavement with a pattering sound whilst dribbling continuously from the base of his bum, with both streams occasionally merging into a forceful jet. The trickles and dribbles were falling from the bottoms of his trouser-legs, dripping directly onto the floor whilst also running down the sides of Duncan’s thin black cotton socks and streaming over the tops of his shoes.
As the gently steaming puddle of urine began to weave its way across the pavement, running towards the edge and pooling in the kerb, Duncan continued to squat and wet his pants whilst Ben was almost squawking from the back seat, “This’ll be on you-tube by tonight” with his phone firmly fixated on PC Preedy’s rapidly sodden trousers.
Ken was still sitting watching in silent horror and even Ben in the back seat was stunned into silence, although still holding his mobile phone at arm’s length to try and capture the incident in full. Using the side of the open police car door as support, Duncan had not moved all the while he was wetting himself but as he began to regain control of his bladder and the deluge in his underpants began to diminish to a dribble, he slowly drew himself up from his squat, gradually rising to a standing position without moving his feet at all. As he rose, the urine that had accumulated in his pants released itself to run all down his legs, streaming down the backs of his thighs and coursing down his calves and his shins before soaking into his short socks and pooling coolly inside his shoes.
As the sheer horror of what he’d done hit home, Duncan leaned forwards and rested his arms on the top of the car door, drooping his shoulders and bowing his head and for the first time he looked across at Ken and simply said,
“Oh God, I’ve wet myself. I’ve done it in my pants”. The car engine was still running and Ken said
“Move forwards a bit” as He gently accelerated and edged the car forwards by several metres. Duncan made no attempt to move and was left standing, exposed as Ken, ignoring procedures about leaving a prisoner unattended for even a moment, jumped out of the driver’s seat and walked round the car to where Duncan was standing.
“Walk forwards, Duncan, just a few steps – you’re standing in a puddle, move out of it, in case anyone comes past and sees”. Duncan moved his feet for the first time since starting to urinate, the movement instantly disturbing his sodden clothing and he felt more now-cold pee trickle down his right leg, his sagging briefs felt cold and clammy and his wet socks clung to the inside of his now clammy shoes.
“What am I going to do Ken? I’ve wet my trousers!”
“Get in the car, let’s try and do something about him first” replied Ken, nodding in the direction of a grinning and leering Ben in the back seat. Duncan forlornly complied, easing himself back onto the damp passenger seat and as he sat down the full impact of his accident was even more apparent as he felt the cold material of his uniform trousers clammy against his legs right down the full extent from top to ankle. As Ken also returned to the driver’s seat, Duncan was trying to regulate his breathing back to normal and unable to respond to Ben’s jibes from behind him,
“Feel better now, do you mate? Now you’ve had a wee-wee. Shame it was in your pants!” Ken was scrolling through his mobile phone and suddenly lifted the handset to his ear and began to speak,
“Simon, listen – are you anywhere near Adams Road?”
“Look, I’m going to make a call in the next minute, asking for some non-urgent assistance to help transport a prisoner back, just make sure you respond as the closest ones, okay?”
“I’ll explain when you get here, just get here quick, please and respond first so that no-one else gets involved”
“Thanks Simon, really appreciate it” Just before He finished the call, Ben yelled out,
“He needs someone to help his deal with pissy pants!”
“I’ll give it a minute then make a call to the control room” confirmed Ken and He sat in silence, subconsciously counting down the seconds as Duncan just stared down at his feet. Ken called the control room and did exactly as He had planned, asking for some non-urgent help with transportation, explaining that they had “an issue with the vehicle” that made it unsuitable to carry a member of the public but that no other assistance was required and they would call in after the prisoner had been removed to confirm their next movements.
Within about six or seven minutes, another patrol car drew up just in front of them and two male officers got out, as did Ken, telling Duncan to stay where he was. He immediately joined his two colleagues between the two vehicles, spoke briefly and Duncan saw them both look immediately in his direction with an expression of amazement of their faces. “He’s wet himself? How the bloody hell has he done that?”
Whatever Ken said in reply, both officers leaned to one side and looked along the pavement to where the huge puddle was still glistening away on the ground. As Ken opened the rear door and ordered Ben out, he couldn’t resist a few parting remarks, “See you then, pissy pants”
“Don’t worry mate, I won’t tell anyone you pissed yourself. I won’t need to – the whole world can see it on you-tube. Captured in full, mate – I got you weeing in your pants, right through your trousers. Brilliant! Cheers for the entertainment!”
After dealing with the transferal of the mouthy lad and exchanging their versions of events, Ken returned to his car as the other vehicle drove away. It was now almost 20 minutes since He had abruptly stopped the car in Adams Road as Duncan had started going to the toilet in his pants. He was still sitting uncomfortably in the passenger seat, his black fleece top undone and revealing his white shirt and black tie, with his legs apart and motionless as he feared disturbing the saturated material of his uniform trousers. He did however, look somewhat awkward and uneasy.
“Ken…” interrupted Duncan – there was a moment’s silence,
“I need to go again” Duncan looked even more embarrassed than when he’d actually been peeing himself.
“Oh Duncan, you’re joking, not again! I told you not to guzzle that whole bottle of Coca-Cola”
“I’m busting Ken, really badly. I didn’t finish going back there, I mean I didn’t do it all and I had to go so desperately that I’ve got go again, it’s like I’ve broken the seal and it’s almost twice as urgent again already” and stream of piss growing in PC Duncan Preedy’s trousers again.