I couldnāt resist posting this story (from the DS forum) to complete this thread, although I think itās worth a thread of itās own.
"Hereās the story I mentioned earlier about a copper at Old Trafford. It was a few years back now, canāt remember the season but it was a match against Coventry City - my brother-in-law works for the GMP and has told this more than a few times.
The story goes that on the day of the match, one young copper from Salford who was assigned to be on duty at the ground arrived at work āthe-morning-after-a-night-on-the-beer-and-curryā, no doubt finished off by a tasty vindaloo or phall. He arrived at work next morning plagued with a bad case of the shits but on feeling better during the day, opted to stay and carry out his duty - a decision he no doubt later rued because on the way to the ground in the van the ruby hit back with a vengeance and he arrived at the ground with those familiar gripping stomach spasms and hot sweats. However, neither time nor luck was on his side and the coppers were straight into the pre-matching briefing with the matchday stewards.
The unfortunate plod was forced to sit through a tortuous thirty minute session alongside his sniggering mates and bemused stewards before the briefing finally ended with him not so much as ātouching-clothā but more so with that awful āpants-sticking-clammily-to-the-arseā feeling and the āhave-I-or-havenāt-I?ā question pounding in his head. And, even worse, all that straining to hold on had increased his need to piss to that of the proverbial racehorse.
The briefing over, he tore off at the speed of light in the direction of the nearest bog, urged on by his hugely-unsympathetic colleagues, arriving at the lavatorial facility ā¦ to find a single urinal and a solitary trap - engaged!!
With the situation at crisis-point, he received directions to the nearest āproperā toilet facility, which was out of the front of the stand, briefly along pitchside and into one of the first aid facilities in the adjacent stand - and he hared off at such speed, that was the last his colleagues saw of himā¦
ā¦the last that day for sure, because one unfortunate copper never made matchday duty. Instead he was returned to his nick after the uncontrollable erruption took place in his standard police-issue grundies, as he was in mid-flight, pitchside in his very own theatre of unforgettable dreams!! Poor plod was despatched back with the soggiest, stinkiest uniform trousers in the history of the Greater Manchester Police - and not just the rear end either!!
Totally true story, that one!"
