Off-Duty Police Constable wet his pants on his way home

[Lee]

Loraine Bentley dried her hands after finishing the washing-up and stooped to open the door of the washing machine which had just finished its cycle. Her second and entirely unexpected wash of the day was a small one and she took out a white police shirt, shook it gently and hung it on a hanger on the back of the door.

She then reached inside the tub and extracted a pair of men’s plain white cotton underpants which she raised to her nose as if to ensure that they smelled thoroughly washed and pulled them into shape before taking out two navy blue sports socks and stretching and flattening them out. She glanced round, wondering where to put the items to keep them as out of sight as possible and she opted to put them in the conservatory, hanging the uniform shirt against the window and draping the slightly damp pants and both socks over a radiator.

As she went to walk out and switch off the light, she noticed the pair of well-worn black lace-up police shoes, standing upright against the wall, each one with a wad of newspaper stuffed inside it, leaving the darkly-stained tan-coloured inners barely visible and she sighed as she exited the room, daring not to look at the small backpack which was lying on the nearby table, and the wallet and police warrant card holder which were placed, opened out and drying, next to it.

Back in the kitchen, she glanced into the lounge and saw her husband of almost four years, 27-year old Police Constable Simon Bentley slumped back on the sofa, wearing a dark green sweatshirt and a pair of light grey loose-fitting tracksuit bottoms with both of his white sports-socked feet resting on a footstool. He was gazing towards the TV but appeared to be looking past the screen and almost in a world of his own. The recent meal-time had been uncomfortable and Loraine knew that she was going to have to break the silence soon enough. She made two cups of tea and walked in, sat down next to her husband and they both sipped the hot drinks without saying a word.

Before either of them could speak, let alone look each other in the eye, Loraine clasped her husband’s arm gently and stroked the soft hairs above his wrist. He turned, looked at her and smiled and she brushed a few scattered crumbs from his thigh.
As he looked at his comforting wife, his eyes briefly caught sight of the radiator near the kitchen door and the slight smile disappeared from his face as he spotted the underpants and socks he had put on that morning in readiness for his police shift. Just seeing the items now freshly washed and drying made him want to shudder as he recalled the horrific incident that had necessitated him having to take them off and hand them to Loraine to put in the washing machine...


…it had been around 90 minutes earlier when Loraine had been finishing the preparation of their evening meal when she heard the key in the front door. Simon was slightly later than he normally was when on the day shift but the meal was just about ready. Several minutes later, Loraine puzzled as to where he was. He always took his shoes off at the door as a matter of course but he seemed to be taking forever. She went to move through the lounge and into the hall when suddenly, the door slowly opened and a somewhat forlorn-looking Simon emerged.

He still had his cream-coloured jacket on and his police uniform jacket was lying on the telephone table. In each hand he was holding one of his shoes, holding the backs of the shoes with the laces dangling downwards and each shoe had a navy blue sports sock draped across the inside. Loraine looked startled and instinctively reached out and took the shoes from her husband who made no attempt to stop her. Her hand brushed against one of the socks and she could feel a very obvious dampness.
“What’s happened? You’ve taken your socks off, and why are they wet?”

As Simon bowed his head, Loraine’s gaze was drawn to his uniform trousers and despite the darkness of the material, the shiny glow and the sodden state of the material caused her heart to pound. The sudden waft of an unpleasant aroma crept past her nostrils and although Simon’s mumbled response was inaudible, he hardly needed to repeat the phrase although the fact that he did served to confirm Loraine’s awful discovery.

“I’ve wet myself!”

The pounding in Loraine’s chest momentarily intensified as she heard the words whilst Simon’s own stomach flipped over as he heard himself say something that he’d only ever communicated by someone else. Not him, surely? He couldn’t be uttering those words. He was a police officer, for goodness sake! A married man aged 27!

No more words were exchanged at that moment as Loraine stepped into the kitchen, put Simon’s damp and slightly sweaty shoes down on the floor and went back to take his jacket off him like a mother undressing a little son and with that Simon turned away silently, headed off upstairs and within minutes the sound of the running shower could be heard from the bathroom.

Loraine tried to comprehend what she had just been told and also the evidence before her own eyes and still puzzling to understand what had happened she headed upstairs and heard the shower water splashing noisily. A few minutes later, the shower stopped running and, somewhat cautiously, Loraine gently pushed the semi-open bathroom door. Simon was sitting on the edge of the bath with a white towel wrapped around his waist. His head was bowed and he was staring at the floor.

Without exchanging comments, Loraine bent down and picked up the white police shirt that was on the floor. It still felt warm and soft but the same could not be said for the pair of white cotton underpants that were strewn alongside it. As Loraine picked them up they were heavy and sodden and the wet coldness of the material caused her to wrap the shirt around the pants. The police uniform trousers were equally as damp and as Loraine held them up she could smell the faint whiff of urine and she quickly folded them up, realising the extent of their saturation as she held the bundle in her arms.

“Erm” Simon mumbled, “the trousers need to be dry-cleaned, not washed.”

“I know” whispered Loraine, adding quietly, “whatever happened, Simon?”

Simon shook his head, “Not now, Loraine, give me a few more minutes, please”.

Loraine nodded, “Okay, but you’re alright aren’t you? I mean, you’re not ill or hurt are you?”

“No, no” re-assured Simon, “nothing like that at all, I’m fine. Just give me a bit of space for now.”


The mealtime had been almost too uncomfortable to bear as they ate their meals in near silence, with Simon pushing his food around the plate and breaking into long periods of apparent vagueness, staring into space as if trying to recollect a series of event.

As the couple sat in the lounge sipping their tea, Simon suddenly turned to Loraine and looked straight at his wife, “I’m sorry, I just needed to get my head right.”

“It’s all okay” she said as she moved closer to him, “as long as you’re okay.”

He nodded and Loraine hesitated for a good few second before she asked, “Where did it happen? I mean, where did you do it? Did anyone see it happening? Does anyone know?”

Simon twisted his neck and raised his head, “Outside Primark, right outside, I was stood right outside the store. I did it all over the pavement.”

Loraine put her hands up to her face, “Oh Simon, I thought it had happened at work somehow. Were you on the way home, then?”

He nodded, “It was awful Loraine, awful, a terrible experience. I can’t believe I did it.”

Loraine sat in silent disbelief as Simon revealed all. "You know what I’m like, I never need a wee. All the lads are always saying so and talking about it. The trouble was that today we were stuck outside that bloody community centre for hours on end. Because of the tensions of the last couple of days, we couldn’t go inside and use the toilets and yet we kept getting plied with coffee, water, orange juice – the lot.

Quite a few of the lads were really needing the toilet before the end of the shift and the skipper said we could use the library toilets, which had been opened up especially for us, so almost everyone nipped over there, leaving just a couple of us – including me, old-iron-bladder, to hold the fort. The thing was, by the time they had been and got back, the van had arrived and the skipper got us all on.

I was busting to go, really busting but I thought we’d only be about 10 minutes getting back to the nick. Anyway, the traffic was terrible and it took us nearly half an hour, I was gagging to go and I really wanted to stop the van somewhere but I’ve told you before what that smug young sergeant is like. He’s a real stickler for regulations. If it had been Dave or Nigel, I would have asked but I just decided to hang on until we got back. But then because we were so late, he decided that we’d all be booked off by him and that he’d drop off a few of us who used the tube off at the station.

Four of us got off and I was as desperate as I’ve been for years. I was telling the other lads how bad I had to go and they were having a right laugh but you won’t believe this, they haven’t got any toilets at Ickenham station! I was panicking a bit about getting on but what else could I do, the others were egging me on to get on and in the end I thought ‘well, it’s only five stops so I should just about be okay. But I was panicking, though.

It was alright for the others, they all got off at the next stop at Ruislip but just as we got past West Harrow, by which time I was absolutely breaking my neck to go, the bloody train ground to a halt and we got held there for about 15 minutes by some signal failure. I was in agony. I really thought that a couple of times I was going to do it in my trousers, I really did. If I’d have relaxed myself I’d have done it there and then, in my pants, on the seat of the train, I know I would.

Anyway, eventually we got going again and the train absolutely crawled into Harrow station and I was on the verge of having an accident. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to go as badly, ever. We got off and there were crowds of us trying to get up the stairs and I was thinking ‘I’m not going to get there in time. I’m not going to make it’.

We finally got to the top of the staircase and I managed to get out of the crowd and towards where I knew the toilet was and … well, you’re not going to believe this, it was only marked “Out of Order”. I just didn’t know what to do. I tried the door just in case but it was locked. I could hardly manage to walk but I got back to the ticket gates and, well, as embarrassing as this is to say, I was virtually starting to do it. I was just about to ‘go’, believe me. I was at the end of my waiting time like I’ve never been before.

There was a young guy from the station staff standing there and I just said to him something like, “I’m a police officer, please can I use your staff toilet? The public one’s shut.”

He just looked at me as if I’d asked a complicated question and then said “What?”

“Please mate, please can I go to the toilet. I can’t wait, I’m a police officer. Please let me use it, now”.

He replied with complete indifference. “You can only use the public one. I’m afraid we don’t let people use the staff one.”

“But I’m a Police Officer! Please! I’m about to wet myself!”

He looked a bit flustered when I said that and replied “Hold on a sec”, and he switched his radio on and started to press the digits, said something I couldn’t hear and then turned back to me and said, “Have you got a warrant card on you?”

I tried to get my hand into my back pocket trying to pull my wallet out but, Oh Loraine, I was literally starting to go to the toilet in my pants. I honestly can’t believe I actually acted like this but I just didn’t know how to get the message across and I think I said, “Please, I think I’m actually wetting myself!”

I was fumbling around trying to grab my wallet but I was desperately trying to stop myself peeing too and I can’t imagine what I must have looked like to people who were watching.

I just blurted out “Leave it, leave it!” I said to him, “I’m doing it. I’m about to do it standing here!” and with that I just knew I had to get away before I stood there and went in my trousers in front of him. I sort of hobbled to the entrance and I was thinking that maybe I could get to the shopping centre and see if their toilets were still open but as I got to the crossing, the lights had changed and there was a load of people standing there waiting to cross and as I stopped and stood still, I started doing it all down my leg.

I’ve never ever experienced anything like it in my life. I was actually going in my pants. I just turned around and walked a few paces back, still wetting down my leg. I just got to the window of the Primark store and that was it, I just lost it completely and I was totally going in my pants. I just stood there doing it. I couldn’t stop myself. It was an incredible relief but I was just standing peeing down both legs like a waterfall.

Loraine was agog listening. “Did people see you? Did they see what was happening?”

They must have done, I was doing it on the pavement. It was all running away from my shoes and snaking round my feet. I could feel it pouring down my legs and it was running all into my shoes and through my socks. I just stood there wetting myself, there was nothing I could do.

I’ve no idea how long I stood there but it was until I finished going. I didn’t even glance at people who were looking at me, I just started walking away. God knows what sort of puddle I must have left on the pavement.

I just walked away. I knew there was no way I could get on the bus so I started walking home, but talk about uncomfortable. My trousers felt all cold and my pants and my socks were all soggy and the insides of my shoes were all warm and sticky. Oh God Loraine, I wet myself, in the street! I’m 27 years old and I wet my trousers! I can’t believe I did it in my pants, in my uniform too. If the lads at the nick ever find out, that’ll be it for me!

Loraine put her arms around his neck and hugged him. “It’s okay Simon, honestly. You had an accident, that’s all. It doesn’t matter how old you are or whether you’re a policeman. You couldn’t help it.” She kissed him and Simon gave a deep sigh.

“Don’t you dare tell that bloody woman in the dry cleaners that I widdled in those trousers, will you?”



The Next Morning…

Simon had already left to start his shift and Loraine was clearing away after the previous night’s events. Despite the fact that Simon had left without mention again of what had happened she was sure he must still be feeling mortified. Loraine herself had butterflies in her tummy whenever she thought about her gorgeous policeman husband wetting his pants in the street; she could hardly contemplate how he must have felt when he was doing it.

She could only ever once remember seeing someone else dying for the toilet when she honestly believed he was going to wet himself and that was way back when she and Simon had only just started going out together and had been coming back from one of his mates’ birthdays on a minibus. It was another one of his mates who had finally blurted out “I reckon you need to stop ASAP before Craig wets the chair!” Everyone was laughing as the minibus pulled over and this lad Craig clambered to the front door saying “Quick, Quick!! It’s coming! It’s coming! I’m doing it!” as he almost fell over in his desperation to get out.

Simon had mentioned a couple of times how embarrassing the incident had been and shook his head in disgust whenever the incident was mentioned. So, for it to happen to him – and worse – was so awful for him.

Loraine started to put things away and looked at the freshly-folded soft white cotton briefs, scarcely believing that around 12 hours previously, her policeman husband had urinated in them, actually totally peed in his underpants and she recalled the sodden state they had been in when she picked them off the bathroom floor. As she put them in the drawer with all of his other pairs of pants, her tummy flipped once again. Even as she put his navy blue sports socks with his numerous other pairs of socks, she felt like putting them to one side to avoid contaminating all the other pairs, despite the fact that they had been freshly washed.


… at around 10.30am, Loraine walked into the dry cleaners in the town centre, clasping a white plastic carrier bag, and she was greeted by a girl of her own age who she had known since her teenage days.

“Hi Dawn, is your mother not in today?”

“No, she won’t be in until this afternoon. How are you?”

“Yes, I’m fine, well, I am – but I’ve got a bit of an embarrassing thing to ask you, before anyone else comes in”. Dawn looked a bit puzzled as Loraine half-opened the carrier bag and held the bag slightly away from her body.

“These are Simon’s police uniform trousers. They need to be dry-cleaned, as quickly as possible, please”. “No, don’t…!” Loraine quickly added as Dawn went to take and open the bag.

“This is ever so embarrassing and Simon will kill me if he knows I’m saying this, but err - oh dear – you need to know, that, well…he had a bit of an accident on the way home last night. I’m afraid he wet them.”

“Wet them?” queried Dawn.

“Yes, he’d been on the train and needed the toilet so badly but he couldn’t get there in time.”

“You mean he wet himself? Seriously? Oh Dear!”

“The thing is,” continued Loraine, “they’re still ever so damp and I’m afraid they don’t smell too good.”

“Oh that’s okay” said Dawn, looking hugely embarrassed. She took a large piece of paper and wrote on it “Badly soiled – urinated in” and clipped the paper to the carrier bag, adding another stick-on note with the written words “Urgent, police uniform trousers”.


… in a plush office in Ruislip, six young suited blokes were pouring themselves coffees before preparing for the day ahead,

“Are you being serious, Rich?”

“Honestly mate, as true as I’m standing here.”

“And you really reckon he was peeing himself?”

“Definitely, you could see it running out of the bottom of his trouser-leg. It was all coming out onto the pavement and it was all round his shoe. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

“And you reckon he was a copper, too?”

“Yeah, he was carrying a police tunic and they were police trousers, you know you can tell those thick black itchy looking trousers?”

“So it was a full-blown piss?”

“Oh yeah, it was pouring out of the bottom of his leg. You know how you can always tell coppers because they always wear sort of basic shoes and the trousers are always a bit short so you can see their socks?”

They all laughed, “How come he peed himself, then?”

“I don’t know, the toilets were shut at the station, they have been for weeks, perhaps he got caught short and couldn’t wait and had to do it in his pants?”

They all laughed out loud again, “Brilliant!”


… in the Primark store, two middle-aged employees were folding clothes on the shelves.

“I know, the poor lad, I felt so sorry for him. He was just standing there as if he didn’t know what to do. It was all running down the legs of his trousers.”

“I’m sure it was the young policeman who is married to the girl whose mum is friends with Maureen. I remember when they got married. I’m certain it was him, he was partly in uniform too”.

“Poor love, he was standing in a puddle when he’d finished, he must have been bursting to go, whatever he’d been doing.”


… at midday, 19-year old LUL station employee Paul Foster walked into the LUL staff room at Harrow station as the shift changeover was taking place. “Alright lads? ‘Ere, guess what – I reckon a copper pissed himself last night!”

“What? Where? What are you talking about?”

“Just before I was about to go on my break, this young bloke came rushing up saying ‘Please, Please, can I use the staff bog”.

You know the public ones are still shut, well this bloke was hopping from foot to foot saying ‘Please, I’m going to wet myself!”

There were a few sniggers from all the other lads.

“He was, he kept saying he was about to do it in his trousers. Then he started saying he was a policeman and he had to go before he did it in his pants”.

“Do you reckon he was definitely a copper, then?”

“Yeah, he kept saying he was – and he had those police trousers and shoes on, so it looked like it. I radioed Ken and he said to ask him for his warrant card, so I did but he was trying to get his wallet out of his pocket and hopping about. Then he said “leave it, leave it” and he rushed away but he looked like he was actually pissing himself.”

“Really? Blimey!”

“It looked like it, the way he was walking – it looked like he was doing it in his pants – then about 10 minutes later, a couple of blokes walked in, saw the toilet was out of order and one of them said “told you!” and then he turned to me and said “some lad’s just stood there and wet himself on the pavement outside the station”.



… the new shift at the police station, were in the changing rooms ….

“Did you make it to the loo in time last night then, Simon? I was absolutely busting, another 10 minutes and I wouldn’t have made it!”

“Simon looked like he couldn’t have waited another one minute, let alone 10! I bet you didn’t last out ‘till you got home, did you?”

“You didn’t have to nip behind the stairs at the station, did you? When I was in Harrow with the missus last week, I noticed the toilets were shut. Bet that almost caused a bit of leakage didn’t it, mate?”

As the banter continued, a crimson-faced Simon was pleased he had his back to his colleagues, as he fumbled with the buttons on the jacket of his tunic, with his stomach doing cartwheels as he remembered standing outside Harrow station, peeing furiously all down his legs and through his pants and trousers.

“Don’t worry lads, old iron-bladder Bentley wouldn’t know what it feels like to even come close to wetting himself, would you, mate? Not like us mere mortals”

[Brian]

I love the deft juggling of the incident from different people's viewpoints when they had witnessed various different stages of it, beforehand, during or aftermath.

[Fred]

Poor Simon. Of course it could never be kept a secret, and nowadays there would be a photo posted to Facebook or Tumblr.

[Dontpissitaway]

I used to live in Harrow so I can picture exactly where his accident would have happened, lots of people would have witnessed it, as if wetting yourself alone wasn't embarrassing enough!

[evergreen]

Lee,

As ever - a great story that rings true - nowadays secrets are hard to keep.

[Brian]

Yes, this particular story by Lee especially has the theme running through it all the way of how many people witnessed the accident and how impossible it was for the poor PC to keep what had happened a secret, doesn't it? For example, those two big embarrassing labels which the dry-cleaner's daughter puts on Simon's load ...

[Lee]

...those two big embarrassing labels which the dry-cleaner's daughter puts on Simon's load ...

The only thing she missed off was his name and number (and date of birth)!!