An Accident at Police Training College

[Lee]

Thursday morning, just after 10.15am at Hendon Police Training College, the north-west London centre for Metropolitan Police officers in training...

...Group C2, one of the most recent of the current year intake had just completed their first exercise of what was to be a tough and stressful day in the penultimate week of their initial sixteen-week training programme – an early morning observation session in which the group had been sent out to watch a series of re-enacted roadside incidents, performed by serving officers.

The early morning start had been, they all suspected, a way of taking their minds off the main event of the day, namely the ‘big’ examination which was the culmination of much of their learning of the previous few months. Police Training College seemed to consist of tests and exams along with a host of practical exercises and today was an important one – success meant being allocated a four-week placement at one of London’s busy police stations whilst failure meant being back-tracked to work with another intake before enduring a re-sit.

Outside the back of the main building, 21-year old Carl Blake was taking advantage of the couple of free minutes to sneak a quick smoke break. He was the only one who smoked amongst his group and although it wasn’t a regular occurrence for him, in times of anxiousness he enjoyed a crafty quick puff. Surprisingly, the rest of his sixteen-strong group seemed to have rapidly dwindled away to leave him on his own, although quite or where they had all found it necessary to have vanished to was unclear. Carl exhaled a silent stream of smoke into the morning air and knew that he would certainly have to be going somewhere himself in the next couple of minutes. He was absolutely bursting to go to the toilet and had been hugely uncomfortable throughout most of the observation session and he leaned back against the wall, careful not to mark his uniform jacket and very conscious of the fullness of his bladder.

As he stood upright again and gave a little stretch, he winced at the discomfort in his tummy and dropped the almost extinguished cigarette butt on the floor, squashing it under the sole of his shoe and twisting the heel to grind the tobacco stem into the ground. He brushed some specks of the fallen grey ash from his black tie and rubbed his shoe on the back of the calf of his other leg to also remove signs of stray ash before lifting his foot onto the small garden-bed wall and bending forwards to pull up his sagging sock.

“God, do I need a piss!” he mentally uttered to himself as he heard voices and a group of his missing colleagues suddenly re-appeared, looking as anxious as Carl himself felt about the impending test. As he looked up he saw that it wasn’t just a small group but everyone was gathering and his heart gave a little flutter as he realised just how little time he had left himself to nip to the toilet.

All of a sudden, his heart did more than flutter as he heard the voice of Sergeant Desmond, the surly and old-school-type trainer who had been their nemesis for much of the preceding month or so. He was a knowledgeable and attentive trainer but gruff in his approach and someone it paid to be wary of. As he called the group to order Carl was panicking a bit. Time must have passed faster than he had realised. He’d have to rush to the toilet as soon as they reached the main hall “Blast!” he cursed to himself, he hated being as unprepared and yet it always seemed to be the case with him.

He joined the group who almost by routine nature fell into an orderly line of twos, such had been the discipline hammered into them since their arrival. As they started to trundle along behind Sergeant Desmond, the colleague closest to him, PC Gary Porter nodded towards their skipper and said quietly, “I always almost expect him to have us holding hands and walking in pairs!” Sue Jones, who was right behind them giggled and Gary grinned but Carl was in no mood for joking as another eruption in his belly threatened to turn a complete somersault with a second surprise in as many minutes,

“Why are we going this way?” stammered Carl, “the hall’s in the other direction, what’s going on? Where are we going?”

“Don’t you read anything, mate?” replied Gary, “didn’t you read the notice stuck on the corridor door last night?”

Carl was almost spluttering in his response. Yes, he’d seen the notice taped to the door but half those notices were about the most ridiculous of things that hardly mattered. He’d got fed up reading all sorts of trivia during the course of the weeks - anything that was altered seemed to necessitate a notice being put up!

“What did it say, then?” he enquired with some trepidation.

“The main hall, gymnasium and exam rooms are out of use today and tomorrow, the floors are being re-varnished or something like that. Anyway, they can’t be used so we’re having to use that portakabin on the other side of the parade ground.”

“I just hope it’s nice and warm in there?” said Sue.

“I need the toilet!” gulped Carl, "there'd better be one in there, I'm desperate."

“Out of luck, mate, there aren’t any over there. Where do you think we all disappeared to? That was the only chance you had of a piss this morning. You really should read instructions, you know.”

As another conversation broke out PC Carl Blake felt a hot flush of panic engulf his whole body and almost in reinforcement his bladder gave more than a little reminder that it needed relief – and soon.

It was no good sharing his predicament any further with the others at this stage. Apart from the fact that it would simply be embarrassing for him and no doubt highly amusing for the others, Carl was desperately trying to fathom out what he was going to do. He couldn’t break ranks half way there and couldn’t run after the fast-striding Sergeant Desmond to ask if he could go to the toilet like a little boy. He’d simply have to do something when they got to the temporary exam room. There had to be a toilet there, surely?

Two hundred metres of panic-stricken walking later, the portakabin appeared in front of them, looming large as Carl’s wide eyes began scanning desperately for a sign saying ‘toilet’ or a picture of a little man on a door or even just a long-since-used, run-down facility. Anywhere! But he had to have a piss – and ‘really, really’ had to have a piss!!

In common with his other fifteen colleagues, Carl’s heart was thumping and his mouth was dry but the reason for his growing anxiety was not in common with their rising stress levels about the content of the exam they were about to sit. His panic was about where the hell he was going to be able to relieve himself!

“I’ve got to ask” he told himself sternly, “sod the embarrassment, I‘m just going to have to ask, even if it means me running back to the main building and everyone waiting. If I get a bollocking, so be it.” He was about to step out of the now stationary line and blurt out his request when all of a sudden, the portakabin door opened and out strode the Chief Inspector who they had been introduced to on their very first day. Carl couldn’t remember his name but knew full well that this was the top man, the guy who all-but-ran the Training College and the small but immaculately-dressed officer immediately emerged to stand in front of them and began to address the group...

“Good Morning Ladies and Gentlemen, I know you will be anxious to get inside and underway with this very important examination but if you will allow me a few minutes of your time, I have some messages for you to take with you into the exam room and some information that you need to be aware of at this stage of your training...”

His voice tailed away in the distance as PC Carl Blake stood there, quite simply not knowing what to do. His options had all but disappeared and now he knew that the only outcome left for him was to ask to leave the exam after it had started. He also knew that such a request would be badly-received by the instructors but he had no choice. Oblivious to what was being said to the group, his mind was racing ahead to how he was going to handle the situation.

Should he wait until the exam was underway and nonchalantly ask to go out, assuming of course he could appear nonchalant when his need was as great as it was?

Should he actually say he needed the toilet? Or should he try some other excuse?

Like what? Could he say he wasn’t feeling well? He needed a drink? Or wanted some fresh air? No, he had to dismiss that straight away, if there wasn’t a toilet there he couldn’t risk just standing outside with someone accompanying him, could he? And even so, he might seem weak if it was viewed as nervousness.

He actually even found himself glancing around to see – incredibly – if there were any trees or secluded places he might be able to hide behind if he were to be allowed out of the room on his own!

It was all no use at all, he was just going to have to ask!



Ten minutes later, the whole group were taking their seats and settling themselves down for the test ahead of them. The room was laid out with sixteen small desks, all spaced apart and in four rows of four, each with a metal-framed and canvass-seat chair. All of the participants, in full uniform, were making their final preparations, almost every one of them removing their uniform jackets and hanging them on the backs of their seats, so the room was almost entirely a sea of white shirts with black ties and shoulder epaulettes.

At the front, Sergeant Desmond was still in conversation with Chief Inspector Callaghan and although there was another officer observing the settling-in process, it was pretty clear that their sergeant would be the exam supervisor and invigilator.

At the second desk from the front in the second row, Carl Blake was endeavouring to settle down but his mind was in turmoil. He was almost regretting the decision to remove his jacket because he could feel a slight dampness beneath his armpits as his heart-rate threatened to send his blood pressure to extremities. As he sat down and felt his heavy black belt tightening around his sensitive belly, he glanced down at the tops of his thighs, encased in his thick police uniform trousers and saw the almost involuntary gentle jigging of his legs and his softly bouncing black shoes, tapping the floor with his heels.

Carl had already suffered more dagger-blows to his heart in the last twenty minutes than was acceptable in a young lifetime and yet the worst was about to be inflicted. Sergeant Desmond, looking and sounding more obnoxious than ever, started to outline the protocol and a lesser-willed soul than PC Blake might have disgraced himself there and then as the announcement was made that “no-one will leave the examination room during the course of the next two hours”.

Carl wanted to wave his hand frantically and wildly in the air and plead his case but sitting tightly and already feeling the tautness in his legs, he was desperately plotting his escape mission without a thought as to the content of the crucial test paper placed in front of him. When he heard the words, ‘please turn over your exam paper’ he expelled more energy in tensing his tummy muscles than he did in adjusting the papers on his desk.

Ten minutes in, he was writing away on his paper, unsure as to the accuracy of his scribbling and afraid to shift around too much on his seat for fear of accentuating his need which was already approaching the stage beyond urgency. His continual gentle jigging of his legs and shuffling of his shoes had so far gone unnoticed but he feared how long he could contain his predicament, as well as containing himself.

He was desperate to get to thirty-minutes-in. Surely at that stage he’d be allowed to leave? After all, this isn’t some old-fashioned boarding school for goodness sake. He was bursting to go to the toilet and so there was no other option but to let him go out, was there? He continued to sit there convincing himself of that fact. His tingling tummy flipped a little as he admitted to himself for the first time that if he didn’t go out, well ... he daren’t even think that way, he had to banish such nonsense to the recesses of his mind.

As the clock ticked onto twenty-five minutes after the start time, Carl knew it was touch-and-go whether he’d last out for the full thirty minutes. For the past few minutes he had been experiencing knife-like stabbing pains in his belly and twice his bladder had spasmed to cause him to shift suddenly to avoid the discomfort. He glanced at the clock again and with the hands seemingly static he felt a wave of nausea as his bladder twitched like an unborn foetus and Carl knew it was now or never.

Squeezing his thighs tightly together and ever-more conscious of the wetness underneath his armpit, he raised his hand just above his head, his finger pointing upright and with his face burning crimson. A couple of heads turned in surprise and those who were fully concentrated on their exam papers also had their attentions roused when Sergeant Desmond rose from his seat and moved across the room with a frown on his craggy face.

“What is it, lad?” he said quietly, although the tone and gruffness of his voice allowed everyone in the room to hear.

“Erm...I need to go to the toilet, please” replied Carl, his voice quivering and his left hand still raised at half-mast.

“You know the situation, son” said Sergeant Desmond, “I told you at the outset, there are no breaks permitted in this test, you’ll have to wait.”

Carl hardly knew how to respond, it was his worst nightmare and one that he had convinced himself simply couldn’t happen. Before he knew it, the sergeant had turned his back and was heading back to his seat at the front.

“Sarge!” blurted out Carl, almost without thinking and the irritated officer spun round rapidly, glaring at the young constable whose right hand was no longer holding his pen but was tentatively touching the crotch of his trousers, as a seemingly protective guard against leakage and in a bid to ease his anguish.

No further words were exchanged. Carl didn’t know how to express himself and Sergeant Desmond simply shook his head to confirm his earlier response and beckoned to his young PC to lower his hand, before returning to the front.

Several of the other young coppers were looking across in a startled manner at their colleague, although only a couple could see his frantic hand action whilst some of the others could tell by the jiggling leg action that the need they had heard expressed was a very real one.

Carl bowed his head and for a couple of seconds the crescendo of pain in his belly rose to such a level that he had to tense up his whole body to prevent himself starting to urinate uncontrollably. In a blind panic he darted his head round the room looking for some sort of resolution and he caught the eye of PC Gary Porter who was sitting in an adjacent desk and having remembered the earlier conversation, had realised the seriousness of the situation.

As Carl stared into his eyes like a rabbit caught in the headlights, Gary silently mouthed “Go on”, gesturing towards the door with his hand and tilting his head in the direction of the exit. It was clearly apparent to him that sitting just a few feet from him, the young police constable was on the verge of wetting himself.

Gary cleared his throat loudly, prompting everyone including Sergeant Desmond to look over at him and PC Porter pleadingly nodded towards Carl who by now had his head bowed to such an extent that his chin was firmly planted onto the top his chest with his forehead within inches of his arm which was rested on the desktop. His other hand was gripping and releasing its grasp on his crotch and his legs were scissoring back and forth in non-stop fashion.

Sergeant Desmond strode across and unexpectedly yet tenderly put his hand on the back of the young constable’s neck. Carl raised his head, portraying watery eyes almost bulging from his bright red face and he uttered the words that no self-respecting 21-year old, police officer or otherwise, would ever want to be associated with,

“Please Sarge, I’m going to do it in my pants!”

“Okay lad, hang on, I’m going to get someone over to escort you out, just try and calm down and hold on.”

He walked back to the front and picked up the telephone, pressed a few digits on the keypad and waited several seconds before turning his back and speaking quietly with snippets of his conversation being audible,

“...I need someone over here as a matter of urgency ... got to get him to the toilet ... back to the main building ... anyone will do ... quickly though, I think he’s nearly wetting himself ...”



The few seconds of immense calm that PC Carl Blake had experienced following the revelation of his predicament, despite the terrible embarrassment of his words, suddenly vanished as he realised that he had to wait even longer and his need was now so crucial that to describe his urgency to piss as white-hot would have been an understatement. In sheer panic mode he felt himself release a 2-3 second spurt of scorching hot piss into his underpants and although the release astonishingly diminished his need rapidly, he couldn’t just sit still.

Rising to his feet, he almost knocked the small desk over and scrapped the chair back on the wooden floor and with one hand gripping his crotch he took three or four small steps towards the door.

“Sit down lad!” growled Sergeant Desmond with his tone rising, “someone’s on their way to escort you, sit down and wait!”

“But I’m going to wet myself, please!” PC Blake’s gripping of his crotch became a kneading exercise and standing awkwardly, he pressed his knees together like a five-year old waiting in line for the little boys toilet.

“Walk out now and you’ve disqualified yourself” rapped his sergeant, “wait five minutes and you’ve got half a chance of getting yourself out of this mess you’ve got yourself into!”

In the full glare of the classroom full of young police officers, Carl waddled back to his desk and almost resignedly sat down on the canvass seat, the ache around his midriff such that he hardly felt the pain any more, just a terrible numbness that left him unaware of what his body and organs were doing any longer.

The written exam was no longer of any concern for Carl. Making no attempt to pick up his pen, his only focus was on trying not to piss himself and it was a battle that already knew he had lost. It was a case of when it happened rather than if it happened and he felt a strange inner calmness before experiencing a wave of nausea that left him light-headed and dizzy before he was once again acutely aware of the bright lights of the classroom.

All around him his colleagues were also viewing Carl rather than concentrating on their exam papers, some willing him to hold on, others not appreciating the inevitability of the outcome and a couple astonished at the spectacle they were witnessing.

Sergeant Desmond was standing at the half-open door, glancing out urgently to see if his requested assistance was on its way and occasionally looking from the corner of his eye to see the scene in his exam room.

PC Gary Porter was agog, staring wide-eyed at his colleague and looking down at the shoes on his mate's feet, with his own heart pounding in trepidation of seeing the most awful evidence begin to appear.

Sitting at his desk, his backside moulded to the canvass seat of the chair, PC Carl Blake’s ears were ringing and his contorted face with semi-closed eyes and slightly-open mouth would have betrayed his condition to a blind man. Hunched slightly forwards with both of his hands buried between his thighs in a last desperate bid to hold back the impending flood, his legs were clamped together and his shoes were no longer tapping the floor. Instead his feet were on tip-toe with his heels raised an inch or so from the floor.

His bladder muscles, that he had fought so strenuously to control had decided that enough was enough and he was unable to counter the message that his brain was sending out telling everything in his aching body to ‘let it flow’. Beneath his police trousers, part of that Metropolitan Police uniform he had so proudly put on for the first time several weeks before and stood himself in front of the mirror in admiration, there was a tingling warmth engulfing his thighs and a silky warm wetness was spreading beneath his bum. His white cotton underpants were absorbing urine quicker than it was possible to do so and the overflow was simply pouring down the young constable’s legs.

The streaks of hot wetness were streaming down his lower legs, rapidly spreading down the backs of his calves and tickling his shins before engulfing his short black cotton socks and wetting the soles of his socks and the insides of his plain black lace-up shoes.

The scene from across the aisle was even more horrific. The canvass seat acted as a carrier for the urine and as PC Blake sat and wet himself, the sack-like material dribbled wetness at around half a dozen different outlets, dripping onto the wooden floor in a puddle that was being formed by the main flow running from the front of the chair.

His half-raised shoes were releasing excess water which was running all down the sides of both shoes and at the bottom of the legs of his trousers, a tap-like stream was making his socks glisten before running into and off of his warm shoes.

Carl sat at his desk simply urinating in a way that he could never recall happening before. Not only was he horrifically peeing his pants and trousers, wetting himself in a manner that would shame a child, he was weeing without control. He fully understood the enormity of what he was doing but he couldn’t stop himself. The relief was indescribable and the warm wetness in his pants beyond belief but he almost didn’t want it to stop. This was the piss to beat all pisses. Never could anyone have needed to ‘go’ like Carl had needed to go and the fact that his Metropolitan Police career could be dissolving into a puddle round his shoes paled into insignificance at that precise moment, compared to the erotic sense of relief, completed by a little post-piss shudder to finalise the previously never-ending flow.

At the door, Sergeant Desmond was greeted by a worried-looking PC Osborne who had been rushed across to the portakabin but his welcome was an embarrassed groan from the sergeant, who had heard the thundering torrent splash onto the wooden floor from where he stood,

“Too late mate, he’s wet himself” and the two experienced Training College officers looked at each other with sheer astonishment.

In the classroom itself, the exam had well and truly taken second-place and fifteen pairs of eyes were fixated on the desk second from the front in the second row. Some had heard the wetting happening whilst others had seen the flow from the chair and some had witnessed the sight of the lower trouser-legs, shoes and socks a-wash with Carl’s urine.

What was undeniable now was the large steaming puddle that surrounded the young constable’s shoes, glistening and shimmering on the wooden floor and reflecting the light of the room.

Carl sat still, hardly able to contemplate the fact that he had just wet himself and yet still trembling with the pain release although now feeling a cold, clammy and sticky wetness from the waist down.

As he slowly rose from his seat, freeing up what seemed like another pint of cooling urine to stream all down his legs and out over his shoes, the canvass seat still retained a small pool in the recess of the material. PC Blake slowly and uncomfortably took a couple of steps, leaving behind the puddle although making full prints of the sole of his shoe on the wood flooring. The dribbling down his lower legs almost made him shiver as he felt PC Osborne’s arm around his shoulder and he was led from the classroom like a naughty schoolboy.

Back inside the room, Sergeant Desmond had to try and re-focus his group on their exam and its importance but it proved a thankless task as he spread newspaper on the floor and seat at the scene of the awful mishap.



At around 3.00pm, PC Carl Blake, now fully-refreshed and showered on the outside but still feeling mortified beyond comprehension on the inside, knew that he had to face his colleagues sooner rather than later. The longer he left the fateful moment the more impossible the ordeal would be and dressed in a sweatshirt, jeans and trainers he made his way down to the canteen/bar area where he knew they would all be gathered. As yet unaware of his fate with regard to the examination outcome, he could at least start to deal with the first aspect of his accident.

As he opened the door and walked in, his group of colleagues all looked at him and he felt eyes burning into him from elsewhere in the bar area with news of his unbelievable mishap having no doubt spread like wildfire around the training school. As he approached them, the silence was broken by Nick Cartell who said loudly,

“Well, come on, where are they, then? What have you done with them?”

Blushing with embarrassment, Carl said, “What? What are you talking about?”

“Your knickers, mate. What have you done with them? We’ve been laying odds on whether you’ve washed ‘em or binned ‘em! So come on, in the washer or down the rubbish chute?”

The group erupted into laughter and Carl, still red-faced, grinned with them.

“Don’t worry, Pissy Pants” said Paul Walton, leaping up and almost jumping onto Carl’s back in a playful manner, “that goes down as the quickest anyone’s ever ruined a uniform at this place!”

“Mind you,” laughed Gary Porter, “I’ve seen camels at the zoo piss smaller puddles than you made!”

Craig Dudworth said, “It’s okay mate, we’ve just been composing an email to send out to your new nick, telling them to make sure you always have a wee-wee before going out on duty. You do know that you’ve given The Met fantastic material for the next ten years, don’t you!”

PC Carl Blake smiled and gave a huge sigh of ... well, more emotions than he cared to consider. That was the first part of the ordeal over - now to face the senior officers and hope for a similar reaction!

[Brian]

Really enjoyed the opportunity to read this story again. It's got everything! Of course the physical descriptions of what happens to Carl are sublime, but I also love the psychological battles he goes through earlier trying to work out how to ask to go to the toilet when they're all ready to go into the exam.

That awful (for Carl) announcement "no-one will leave the examination room during the course of the next two hours" stuck in my memory from previous readings, quite unforgettable!

This is an absolute classic, Lee.

[Lee]

Thanks Brian, it's a personal favourite scenario of mine.

[Fred]

Thanks Brian, it's a personal favourite scenario of mine.

And one you do so well, Lee! We not only see it as it unfolds, but we feel it.

[evergreen]

I can truly imagine the scene in every detail - every horror that went through his mind. Finally losing control can sometimes bring about intense relief and even pleasure but under this guys circumstances it would have felt horrific. For me it was not a police exam but an end of course year OU exam in a large hall where thankfully few people knew one another. I had almost been late and ushered in and given a desk at the back of the hall.
Despite not having to think too much about answers and writing quickly I began to lose control and sent a hot squirt into my trunks sufficient to show through my trousers. I regained control but knew I couldn't win. Finally ten minutes or so from the end I simply pissed my pants. The chair, thank God was slightly bucket shaped plastic and I never puddled on the floor and whilst the wee extended well down my thighs it was mostly my bum that was soaked and where the wee leached above my waistband and several inches up the back of my shirt. The collection of papers began at the front and people walked out unaware of my state and finally the invigilator took mine glaring at me as she did so. My nerves had made me desperate for a poo and I virtually ran to the toilets passing people not giving a shit about them seeing my soaked bottom. I got to the toilet in time and slowly pulled myself together for the walk back to my car. I don't think I had a dry spot left in my underpants. It lives with me as one of my worst very public very real accidents.

[Brian]

@evergreen Your true story is a wonderful addition to Lee's great classic. I have to say I'm shocked that the invigilator glared at you like that. A bit of sympathy and support would have been appropriate, I feel.

Just in case you haven't seen it, there's a thread in General & Open about true exam desperation and wettings. Worth a read, anyway.
https://www.ladspissing.com/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=576

[evergreen]

Brian,

Thank you. I'm still discovering all manner of desperation on the site and having a good time doing it. Funny how satisfying it can be to see someone in a state of desperation and how hilarious it can seem to the watcher if they lose it and soak their pants and even more so if they are not guys we much care for!

[Sam70]

The stare you received from the test giver may have been for really arriving late. She may have had grounds to tell you that you were too late. At any rate, her stare may have been for being late and don't do it again!

This has been been a fantasy of mine. Get up too late to even take a piss and still barely arrive in time to take the final exam. Permission not given or I didn't ask because I already knew the answer. I could go but I would not be allowed to sit for the exam.

You did the right thing though in putting the exam first with little concern about the state of your pants.

If we could go back in time and instead of taking the exam you had to stay dry the entire time, you might have made it as you were giving it 100 % of your attention. I also know from personal experience that when I get urgent enough, I can not focus on anything except the severe urge to urinate right now!

I've been desperate numerous times with the goal of holding it until control is lost. Had I placed all my attention on an exam I would have lost control much earlier.

At the end you mentioned how you felt when you lost control. I can't bring the story up to give a correct quote, but we can understand that the feelings were pleasurable and most likely feelings that we would not discuss on the open forum.

I suspect that most of us here have had experiences where we were not allowed to use the toilet and when we were able to use the toilet we had similar pleasurable feelings.

I believe that this is the basic reason with some deviations to certain conditions that cause our interest to blossom. This could explain why straight guys can get pleasure at seeing a male that they admire being in this situation.

This story at the Police Exam is exactly how I envision it with the accident being very public with friends who are very supportive both during and after the event. My friends blaming the exam giver or test conditions, not the exam giver.

BTW. THIS IS WHAT I BELIEVE WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IN A REAL SITUATION

If this really happened at a Police Academy, the exam would have to be given over for all of them or for sure all who did not pass the exam and the candidate who wet his pants during the exam.

There is a chance that all the cadets' exams would be collected and the exam be rescheduled for a later date.

WHY? For exams to be considered reliable, the exam conditions need to be as close as identical from other exams taken over time. That means the length of time. The weather climate in the exam room.

Suppose a cadet taking the exam failed the exam. The cadet could claim the above reasons plus the ones listed below as the reason they didn't do well on the exam. The room was so hot that their clothes were wet and they couldn't grasp the pencil. The room was so cold they were shaking.

Consider the following:

The political atmosphere and ambiance in the exam room would need to be as neutral as possible and separated from other major events. A Police Academy would not schedule a police exam on December 24 or December 31.

State and school events would also be considered. In the US forget an exam being taken on July 4, American Independence Day. In the UK forget about the exam being taken when the Queen is hosting or attending major national events.

The Queen's Speech probably would not matter as governing party has pretty much gotten enough votes in the Commons to pass the items in the Queen's speech. Therefore, few if any surprises. It is next to impossible for that many MPs to know the contents of the Queen's Speech and practically every item not made it into the national press is some form.

If there is a major athletic event that receives national or international attention the exam may not be scheduled the day before or the day of the event.

As much as it is possible, the exam conditions are to be as exact as possible including a stop watch to count time, not somewhere around two hours.

VALIDITY IS NOT AN ISSUE HERE. HOWEVER,

The following goes beyond the subject of what to do about to do if this really happened during a police exam. The reason is that the professionals have already used procedures designed to see that validity has been achieved.

For those interested in beyond the specific issues if this happened, but what else has to be achieved that is validity read on. Not interested. Stop reading here!!!

THE ISSUE OF VALIDITY

Validity is also required. That means that the cadets taking the exam over time would score about the same on every version of the final exam. There can't be easy or difficult versions of the exam.

This means that whatever the cadets scored on the various versions would be practically the same. No cadet could charge that they would have passed the easy exam given on the scheduled test day, but didn't pass the difficult version that they had to take.

Reliability and validity are very much related. Reliability refers to seeing that test conditions will result in about the same scores regardless of a particular exam setting.

Validity refers to the ability to see that test scores will be about the same regardless which version of the test is given on a particular day.

If validity is achieved then there can be multiple versions around the exam room. That will cut down on possible cheating tremendously. Choice A will be the answer for question ten, but Choice B might be the answer also for question ten on a different version and so on.

THIS SHOULD RELATE TO ALL UNIVERSITY LEVEL AND CERTIFICATE LEVEL SUCH AS POLICE ACADEMY AND INTRO COURSE IMMEDIATELY PRIOR TO THESE UPPER LEVELS OF COURSES (For those still reading!)

Teachers are suppose to try to make validity and reliability to be as equal as possible on their exams. For example, that means that the entire sequence and scope of the course is taught and tested every time the subject is taught.

In the ideal world, it should not matter where and when a certain subject is taught and tested and by who is the teacher doing the teaching.

Sam's Editorial

That is why the UK gives the GSCE exams. There is every human attempt made to see that validity and reliability are secure regardless of where and when those tests are given.

The US needs to go to this nationwide for university bound students. (Grades or years comparable to Sixth Form in the UK. This should also go for the required subjects to get into police academies, nursing, hair styling, plumbing, etc. as well.)

Students who don't pass these tests would not be able to get into university until they do. That would solve the huge percent of students flunking university their first year. They should not have been enrolled in university level courses. They should pass the remedial courses and exams to qualify to take those university level courses first.

Ditto for getting into the police academy, hair styling or nursing, etc.