'Fat Boy of Coombe Dingle'

November 1971 - Aged 7

Dad had noted in his diary that I ‘filled my pants’ at school. He hasn’t elaborated on that though and you’re probably thinking “what has he filled his pants with?” Money, sweets, bacon butties, chocolate (well, sort of). OK, I’d shit myself at school! It happens, well it had happened to me. Who hasn’t? [Imagine deathly silence and Tumbleweed, at this point].

Strictly speaking I wasn’t actually at school. We were at some school concert at the church in The Avenue. I thought I could sneak out a crafty fart during the singing, but unfortunately I followed through. While everyone was thinking “Jesus Christ, praise the Lord”, I was thinking “Jesus Christ, I’ve shit myself”. It wasn’t as if I could hide the fact, as until the age of 11, we were forced to wear short grey trousers. So with a brown stripe making its way down my leg, I quickly found a teacher, explained my predicament and was allowed to make my way home.

I ran (well moved as fast as I could, with my buttocks clenched together) down The Avenue, along Emerson Avenue and into Thackeray Grove. Mum opened the door and asked why I was home so early. I said I was feeling unwell and school had told me to go home and immediately run upstairs and wash my pants and trousers with soap, shampoo, bubble bath, basically anything I could find in the bathroom. That last bit was a half truth, I did do that, but school didn’t tell me to.

Kids these days have it easy, when it comes to shitting themselves at school. They have long trousers and automatic washing machines, lucky bastards!