Danny goes to Wembley ... and guess what happens?!
Posted: 30 Mar 2026, 17:03
“Hey Danny mate, do you fancy going to Wembley for England’s game against Italy next week?”
Danny looked around at Nick, who was his girlfriend Dawn’s older brother.
“Me?” he queried, “You serious? Why me?”
Nick laughed, “No reason Dan, we’ve got a spare ticket. Me and Phil are going but our other mate Tim has dropped out, so you’re welcome to join us if you fancy it?”
Danny shrugged, “Yeah okay, sounds good. Depends how much though. Tickets are expensive.”
“Don’t worry” replied Nick, “Tim’s already paid and said anyone can have his ticket for free.”
“Oh okay, classy!” said Danny, “Yeah great, I’ll come. As long as I’m not going to get it in the neck from Dawn, we’re supposed to be saving up for a wedding sometime.”
=========================
It was a cold evening a week later when Danny met up with Nick and Tim at Finchley Road station in central London. He didn’t really know Dawn’s brother that well, although they’d met up at a few family events. Nick had worked away for several years, spending time in Japan with his IT company, and Danny had never even met Phil before last week. The three of them arranged to meet in Wetherspoons outside the station and Danny arrived first, ordering himself a pint of lager as he waited. The other two turned up abut fifteen minutes later, apologising for their delayed train, and Nick brought another round of beers for them.
“We’re going to have to down these pretty quickly boys, we’ve just seen the Metropolitan line entrance, it’s looking busy already and I guess it’s going to build up rapidly. Let’s have these and go.”
Danny knocked back the remainder of his first pint and started immediately on the second cold lager. About 10 minutes later, all three lads were almost finished and Danny said, “Wait for me a couple of seconds, I’m just going to have a quick slash before we leave” and he dashed off.
“Brave lad” grinned Phil, “I’m not breaking the seal before a half hour train journey!”
“And the rest” added Nick, “I reckon we’re looking at closer to an hour before we get in the stadium.”
=========================
The walk to the Metropolitan line entrance meant battling through a vast and busy station interior, which took around 10 minutes, and when they arrived it wasn’t just packed, it was absolutely heaving with a huge mass of people trying to get through the ticket barriers. But several of the gates had been closed for crown control and there were hundreds of people pushing and shoving to get through. It must have taken around 15 minutes to finally get to the front and through the barriers, but on the other side they were faced an even bigger crowd, waiting to get onto the platform.
“Christ, this is a right nightmare!” exclaimed Danny, “how long’s it going take for us to actually get onto the train now?”
Nick seemed quite relaxed and accepting of the situation, “I reckon we could be anything up to 20 minutes at least before we are on the platform. These trains aren’t as frequent as other tube lines, so we’re just going have to be patient, this could be a long wait. Good job we gave ourselves time.”
Phil also seemed relatively at ease, getting his phone out of his pocket and casually scrolling through various screens as he looked down intently.
But Danny was feeling nowhere near as patient. He was starting to get that familiar tingling sensation in his belly as his bladder began to make itself known. It wasn’t desperate by any means, but he knew from previous experience that once he got that feeling of his bladder filling up again after breaking the seal, it was going to progress rapidly.
He said nothing, but seven or eight minutes later, during which they hadn’t moved a single step, Danny shifted his feet and he felt uncomfortably bloated around his stomach. He stretched slightly and immediately felt the tightness of his bladder.
‘God, what am I going to do?’ he mused to himself, as he looked back to see a huge mass of people behind him and no way back to the entrance they had waited so long to get through.
“You okay mate?” asked Nick, seemingly aware of Danny’s slight discomfort.
“Erm, yeah okay, cheers” replied Danny unconvincingly, before adding, “I was just wondering whether it will be quicker getting onto the platform or getting back the way we came.”
Phil looked up in surprise, “Go back? No chance mate, whatever made you think that? We’re only going one way, along with everyone else. It’s frustrating, but there is it.”
“What’s up?” said Nick, “you feeling a bit claustrophobic?”
“I could with a wee actually,“ replied Danny.
Phil grinned and Nick laughed, “Oh well, hold on tight. Especially when we get on the tube, we’ll be packed in like sardines! That’ll probably help you, to be honest!”
Danny pulled a face with an awkward-looking expression.
=========================
Another 10 minutes passed, by which time they were actually on the platform, which was packed like none of them had ever seen before.
“We’ll probably never get on the next train, but hopefully we’ll be at the front in readiness for the one after that, so we should get on that one okay” said Nick loudly, above the noise of the crowd.
Danny suddenly swung around as best as he could in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.
“I’m going to have to go back, somehow. I’ve got to try and get off the platform some way.”
Nick and Phil both looked at him in astonishment.
“What the hell are you talking about, mate?” said Phil, “you’re getting on the train whether you like it or not. There’s about a thousand people pressed up behind us!”
“Slight exaggeration!” grinned Nick, “but he’s right, there’s no way out. When this lot behind us surge forward, we’re finding ourselves on the train whether we want to be or not … end of!”
“I’ve got to go to the toilet!” Danny exclaimed.
“I know mate, you said that before, but you’re going to have to wait until we get there.”
“I can’t!” Danny announced, his face flushed with awkward embarrassment, “I‘m not going to be able to wait that long. There’s no way I can get on the train like this, I’m going to have to find an exit!”
“Are you serious mate?” asked Nick.
“I’ve got get out of here, I’m absolutely fucking bursting for a piss!” Danny replied, “I can’t hold on when it gets this bad. I know it. I’ll just have to do it somewhere – anywhere!”
As Nick and Phil looked at each other with raised eyebrows, a lad standing next to them overheard the comment and he leaned towards Danny, grinning “As long as you don’t piss on me, otherwise you’ll regret that for evermore, I can tell you!”
Danny ignored the comment and bent slightly forwards as best as he could in the limited space available, before he exhaled loudly.
“If we get on the bloody train, I’m going to end up wetting myself on there!”
Nick looked totally shocked.
“What!? You need a piss, so what? Just do what anyone does and hold on until you get to a toilet!”
Danny had no idea whether Dawn had told her brother about anything that had happened previously. He assumed she hadn’t but this was not the time to be coy about his predicament and experiences.
”For fuck’s sake mate, I know what I’m taking about, I’ve had this before! When I have to go for a piss this bad I can’t hold it! I’ve pissed meself before and I’m going to bloody wet myself again if we get on the train. There’s no way I’m lasting out to Wembley, no sodding way. Jesus, I’m going piss in my strides!”
It wasn’t only Nick and Phil who were staring at Danny in sheer disbelief. Several others who were standing nearby had heard Danny’s outburst.
“That bloke’s just said he’s going to wet himself!”
=========================
With no possible way back, Danny was stepping from one foot to the other right at the front of the platform, waiting for the next train. Nick and Phil were both feeling extremely uncomfortable at the situation, and Danny was sporadically touching the crotch of his beige chinos, whilst giving himself the occasional squeeze.
“Stop doing that mate!” whispered Nick, “you’re embarrassing yourself acting like that!”
“I’ll have fucking wet pants if I don’t!” snapped back Danny.
As the train finally pulled in and everyone pushed forward to try and get on, Phil heard someone behind them say, “This bloke in front’s going piss himself on there, try and move along a bit!”
=========================
The train took several minutes before it was able to depart as passengers tried to cram inside the already-packed carriages and Nick, Phil and Danny found themselves pushed to the far side. Nick and Phil were almost in a state of shock as they were looking at Danny in horror. Although he was likely to be Nick’s future brother-in-law, Danny was little more than a casual acquaintance and Nick had no idea at all about Danny’s past embarrassments. Dawn had, of course, told her parents about Danny wetting himself previously, but they had all vowed to keep the incidents to as few members of the family as possible. And so Nick was bewildered that he was watching Danny in such a predicament.
As the train pulled away, with passengers grabbing hold of whatever they could to keep their balance, Danny was bent forwards at the waist again, standing with one leg crossed over the other at thigh level, and with one hand hovering close to his crotch as if in readiness to clutch himself if needed. He was initially saying nothing but just looking downwards.
“Jeez, I think he’s focusing everything on trying not to piss!” said an astounded Phil.
Nick was equally astonished, “I’ve never seen anything like this! I think he might actually wet himself!”
Suddenly, the train trundled through West Hampstead station without stopping, as expected. But it was another dagger in the heart for Danny.
“What’s going on?” he groaned loudly, “why aren’t we stopping, I’ve got to get off, I’ve got to get off!”
“It’s non-stop mate, all the way to Wembley” replied someone standing close by, “we don’t stop at four or five stations, just straight to the stadium, why do you think everyone gets on this line?”
“Oh Christ!” moaned Danny in utter despair, “I want to get off. I’m not going to make it to Wembley!”
His comment was heard by everyone in close proximity.
“Is he going to piss himself?”
“Sounds like it, yeah!”
Within seconds, a chant went up in the carriage from hoards of the travelling football fans.
“Pissy pants! Pissy Pants! Pissy Pants!”
Nick put his hand up to his forehead, whispering, “Oh God!”
Just a few feet away, Danny straightened himself up and leaned back against the train door. There were beads of sweat on his forehead and his face was redder than normal. It was already warm in the carriage, and the windows were starting to mist up with the sheer numbers packed inside.
Danny was wearing a fleece-lined grey hoodie which was simply adding to the hot and stuffy conditions, and he wiped his hand across his brow as he pressed his legs together tightly and looked despairingly at Nick.
“I ain’t going to make it, mate!”
“Yes, you are” replied Nick insistently, we’ll be there before you know it, this is the fastest way.”
Danny barely heard the words.
“I’m gonna wet myself!” he whimpered.
Phil could hear a whole host of comments from around him.
“Has he done it? Has he pissed?”
“If he wees on the floor, there’s going to be an almighty scramble to get out of the way!”
“How can you get on the train and wet yourself? He must have wanted to go before he got on?”
“Fucking embarrassing for a bloke of his age to wet his pants, too!”
“He hasn’t done it yet! You’re talking like he’s standing in a puddle!”
“Look at him, if you’ve never seen someone of the verge of wetting himself, you can see it now!”
Two non-stop stations later, Danny was in a semi-squatting position, with his back pressed against the doors and he was clutching himself tightly between the tops of his legs. He was alternating from looking at the ground to glancing up at the ceiling of the train. His feet, clad in a pair of white canvass laced plimsolls, were firmly planted on the floor, displaying his pristine white sports socks, and he was gently but continuously swaying his knees back and forth.
Unbeknown to the onlookers, he was frantically tensing his buttocks and his hamstrings – a technique he had deployed on previous occasions when he had been desperately trying to hold on, whilst he could also feel his calf muscles tightening. He was fearful about standing fully upright because of the intense strain he was experiencing in his stomach, but his sides were aching so much that he wanted to twist and gyrate his body as he would have done had he been standing straight.
By the time the final non-stopping station had been passed and the train announcement was made ‘Next Stop Wembley’, Danny was looking down at his remarkably still-dry beige trousers and silently pleading for the train to begin slowing down. A few minutes later, his prayers appeared to have been answered as the train began to decelerate and gradually ground to a halt. But they weren’t in a station and an announcement was made,
‘Sorry for the delay, we are just outside Wembley Park station, but we are waiting at a red signal, hopefully we will only be held here for a very short time’.
About a dozen pairs of eyes, including Nick and Phil, immediately glanced in Danny’s direction, with his two travelling companions fearful of what they might see. Danny was still in the same position, other than that he now had his other hand holding his tummy.
“Nearly there, mate!” encouraged Nick, “we’ll get you to a toilet as quickly as possible.”
=========================
Three or four minutes later, the train pulled into Wembley Park station and the hundreds of revelling, noisy football fans piled off, immediately creating a packed platform as everyone jostled and pushed for positions and there was a whole wave of chanting and singing.
Nick and Phil were each holding one of Danny’s arms, firstly lifting him into a standing position and then supporting him as they waited for the crowds to subside slightly. They knew that time was of the essence, but they also couldn’t propel him through the dense masses, and they had to wait until they could all move together as a threesome.
With Danny struggling to put one foot in front of the other, they managed to get him to the staircase, where the two impending flights of steps presented a massive challenge.
“Where’s nearest toilet?” yelled Phil to a member of the station staff.
“Upstairs” he replied, “turn left at the ticket barriers at the end of the walkway.”
“He’s not making that! No way!” mumbled Nick to Phil.
Still tightly clasping Danny’s arms, the others helped him up the stairs, one at a time, but Danny was beside himself with anxiety and panic.
“I’m going to piss myself!”
Other supporters were turning to look back as there was no hiding his blatant display of desperation. He was permanently holding himself and squeezing his crotch in a frantic attempt to stop himself leaking into his underpants, scrunching up the material of his trousers in his clenched fist.
“Blimey, I’ve never seen anyone having to piss as bad as that before!”
“It’s going to be a miracle if he makes it in time, there’s bound to be a big queue at the bogs!”
“I reckon someone’s going to be watching the game wearing pissy knickers!”
There were lots more comments from the passing supporters, although there were also a few shouts of encouragement, albeit not all serious, from other sections of the crowd.
“Go on mate, you can get there in time, you can do it!”
“Countdown – Three, Two, One … and piss!” shouted a loud voice followed by a raucous cheer from a small flag-wielding group of lads.
“One man pissed his pants! Couldn’t find a toilet…!” (singing to the tune of One Man went to Mow)
=========================
They had probably progressed no more than about 20 metres along the busy walkway when Danny suddenly stopped, forcing Nick and Phil to stop with him.
“Come on, we’re not far away now!” urged Nick.
But Danny’s defeated face revealed all. He began to sink slowly into a slightly bent-knees posture and put both hands on the lower reaches of his thighs, resting his palms just slightly above his kneecaps.
“I’m fucking doing it!” he mumbled, “I’m wetting myself!”
Almost simultaneously, Nick and Phil leaned forwards and looked down. An ever-widening dark stain was spreading on the left side of Danny’s crotch and it immediately meandered all down the front of his left trouser leg, turning the light beige-coloured material a richly darker shade. Little tramlines were also running down the shin at the bottom of his chinos, before the wet darkness began to also glisten and stain the top of his right thigh.
“Jesus, he is as well, he’s pissing his pants!” said Phil.
There was little else either of them could say as they just watched Danny wet himself, saturating the legs and the crotch of his trousers and gradually extending the shiny wetness right down as far as his ankles and also his short white socks, which were exposed where he had scrunched up his trousers at the crotch.
Large numbers of supporters had turned to watch the spectacle unfolding and there was a buzz of astonished mixed reactions as lots of people stopped to see what was happening.
“That bloke’s pissing himself!”
“What the fuck’s this all about – the geezer’s having a slash in his trousers!”
“He’s only something like 20 or so yards from the toilets! How come he couldn’t make it?”
“He’s pissing like a racehorse, he must have been dying for it!”
By that stage, there was a large puddle on the floor where Danny was standing, swimming all around his white canvass plimsolls as the clear streams ran down his legs, making his trousers steam on the cold night, and soaking his socks, before accumulating into merging pools at both of his feet.
His beige trousers were sodden down both legs, and beneath his wet trousers, his plain white briefs were absorbing the ferocious jet gushing into his underwear, which was becoming saturated around the crotch and even around the bottom section of the seat of his pants.
As he stood still and the flow down his legs subsided, a series of cold trickles escaped to dribble down the backs of his thighs and calves, weaving through the dark hairs on his shins before soaking into his socks and dissolving into his now discoloured white plimsolls as well as spreading underneath the soles of his wet feet.
As a small crowd began to gather to watch Danny having his accident, a couple of police officers walked across to see what was causing the hold-up, and when they saw Danny standing between Nick and Phil, with his trousers drenched all down his legs, they pushed their way through.
“Is he alright? What’s happened?” one of the officers asked.
“He’s had a bit of an accident” replied Nick, “he couldn’t wait and he’s wet himself!”
“I can see that” said the officer, before turning to Danny and asking, “are you okay mate?”
Danny nodded, as the other officer said, “Is there anything we can do for you?”
The replay was a weak and resigned one, “I’ve fucking pissed meself!”
“Okay, move along” the first police officer said, ushering the gathered crowd on their way, although he noticed a few mobile phones out, no doubt recording the moment for their social media posts.
=========================
“What are we going to do about the match?” asked Phil quietly, I’m not missing it because he’s gone and wet himself on the way!”
“Well, we can’t just abandon him – or can we?” replied Nick.
Phil was adamant, “Either he comes to the game with us in that state, or he makes his own way home, I suppose?” before adding, “Danny, what do you want to do? Are you still coming to the football?”
“What, in pissed-in pants and trousers? Are you having a fucking laugh?” snapped Danny testily.
“So, what are you going to do? Go back on the tube?”
Danny shrugged and said nothing.
“Look, why don’t you get the tube to Harrow,” said Nick, “I’ll ring Dawn and she can pick you up from there.”
Danny shrugged again, with Nick adding, “She’s going to be well-shocked about this, I’m sure!”
‘More like fucking furious!’ Danny thought to himself.
=========================
A few minutes later, Danny was on the opposite platform, having waddled uncomfortably back down the stairs, with his badly-stained trousers clinging coldly to his legs, his clammy white underpants sticking to him, and his soggy white socks squelching inside his white canvass shoes.
Everyone was looking awkwardly in his direction as he stood alone waiting for the tube, with a dozen thoughts cascading through his head.
“This is unbelievable, that I’ve done it in my pants again! How many times is that now it’s happened? Dawn’s going to go crazy, how can I tell her that it was the same thing again? I can’t believe I let myself get into that situation after all those previous times – I’ll never fucking learn! She’s going to go mad that I’ve done it in front of her brother and pissed in me jeans again.
Beer makes me wet myself and I need to find some way to stop it happening.”
Danny looked around at Nick, who was his girlfriend Dawn’s older brother.
“Me?” he queried, “You serious? Why me?”
Nick laughed, “No reason Dan, we’ve got a spare ticket. Me and Phil are going but our other mate Tim has dropped out, so you’re welcome to join us if you fancy it?”
Danny shrugged, “Yeah okay, sounds good. Depends how much though. Tickets are expensive.”
“Don’t worry” replied Nick, “Tim’s already paid and said anyone can have his ticket for free.”
“Oh okay, classy!” said Danny, “Yeah great, I’ll come. As long as I’m not going to get it in the neck from Dawn, we’re supposed to be saving up for a wedding sometime.”
=========================
It was a cold evening a week later when Danny met up with Nick and Tim at Finchley Road station in central London. He didn’t really know Dawn’s brother that well, although they’d met up at a few family events. Nick had worked away for several years, spending time in Japan with his IT company, and Danny had never even met Phil before last week. The three of them arranged to meet in Wetherspoons outside the station and Danny arrived first, ordering himself a pint of lager as he waited. The other two turned up abut fifteen minutes later, apologising for their delayed train, and Nick brought another round of beers for them.
“We’re going to have to down these pretty quickly boys, we’ve just seen the Metropolitan line entrance, it’s looking busy already and I guess it’s going to build up rapidly. Let’s have these and go.”
Danny knocked back the remainder of his first pint and started immediately on the second cold lager. About 10 minutes later, all three lads were almost finished and Danny said, “Wait for me a couple of seconds, I’m just going to have a quick slash before we leave” and he dashed off.
“Brave lad” grinned Phil, “I’m not breaking the seal before a half hour train journey!”
“And the rest” added Nick, “I reckon we’re looking at closer to an hour before we get in the stadium.”
=========================
The walk to the Metropolitan line entrance meant battling through a vast and busy station interior, which took around 10 minutes, and when they arrived it wasn’t just packed, it was absolutely heaving with a huge mass of people trying to get through the ticket barriers. But several of the gates had been closed for crown control and there were hundreds of people pushing and shoving to get through. It must have taken around 15 minutes to finally get to the front and through the barriers, but on the other side they were faced an even bigger crowd, waiting to get onto the platform.
“Christ, this is a right nightmare!” exclaimed Danny, “how long’s it going take for us to actually get onto the train now?”
Nick seemed quite relaxed and accepting of the situation, “I reckon we could be anything up to 20 minutes at least before we are on the platform. These trains aren’t as frequent as other tube lines, so we’re just going have to be patient, this could be a long wait. Good job we gave ourselves time.”
Phil also seemed relatively at ease, getting his phone out of his pocket and casually scrolling through various screens as he looked down intently.
But Danny was feeling nowhere near as patient. He was starting to get that familiar tingling sensation in his belly as his bladder began to make itself known. It wasn’t desperate by any means, but he knew from previous experience that once he got that feeling of his bladder filling up again after breaking the seal, it was going to progress rapidly.
He said nothing, but seven or eight minutes later, during which they hadn’t moved a single step, Danny shifted his feet and he felt uncomfortably bloated around his stomach. He stretched slightly and immediately felt the tightness of his bladder.
‘God, what am I going to do?’ he mused to himself, as he looked back to see a huge mass of people behind him and no way back to the entrance they had waited so long to get through.
“You okay mate?” asked Nick, seemingly aware of Danny’s slight discomfort.
“Erm, yeah okay, cheers” replied Danny unconvincingly, before adding, “I was just wondering whether it will be quicker getting onto the platform or getting back the way we came.”
Phil looked up in surprise, “Go back? No chance mate, whatever made you think that? We’re only going one way, along with everyone else. It’s frustrating, but there is it.”
“What’s up?” said Nick, “you feeling a bit claustrophobic?”
“I could with a wee actually,“ replied Danny.
Phil grinned and Nick laughed, “Oh well, hold on tight. Especially when we get on the tube, we’ll be packed in like sardines! That’ll probably help you, to be honest!”
Danny pulled a face with an awkward-looking expression.
=========================
Another 10 minutes passed, by which time they were actually on the platform, which was packed like none of them had ever seen before.
“We’ll probably never get on the next train, but hopefully we’ll be at the front in readiness for the one after that, so we should get on that one okay” said Nick loudly, above the noise of the crowd.
Danny suddenly swung around as best as he could in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.
“I’m going to have to go back, somehow. I’ve got to try and get off the platform some way.”
Nick and Phil both looked at him in astonishment.
“What the hell are you talking about, mate?” said Phil, “you’re getting on the train whether you like it or not. There’s about a thousand people pressed up behind us!”
“Slight exaggeration!” grinned Nick, “but he’s right, there’s no way out. When this lot behind us surge forward, we’re finding ourselves on the train whether we want to be or not … end of!”
“I’ve got to go to the toilet!” Danny exclaimed.
“I know mate, you said that before, but you’re going to have to wait until we get there.”
“I can’t!” Danny announced, his face flushed with awkward embarrassment, “I‘m not going to be able to wait that long. There’s no way I can get on the train like this, I’m going to have to find an exit!”
“Are you serious mate?” asked Nick.
“I’ve got get out of here, I’m absolutely fucking bursting for a piss!” Danny replied, “I can’t hold on when it gets this bad. I know it. I’ll just have to do it somewhere – anywhere!”
As Nick and Phil looked at each other with raised eyebrows, a lad standing next to them overheard the comment and he leaned towards Danny, grinning “As long as you don’t piss on me, otherwise you’ll regret that for evermore, I can tell you!”
Danny ignored the comment and bent slightly forwards as best as he could in the limited space available, before he exhaled loudly.
“If we get on the bloody train, I’m going to end up wetting myself on there!”
Nick looked totally shocked.
“What!? You need a piss, so what? Just do what anyone does and hold on until you get to a toilet!”
Danny had no idea whether Dawn had told her brother about anything that had happened previously. He assumed she hadn’t but this was not the time to be coy about his predicament and experiences.
”For fuck’s sake mate, I know what I’m taking about, I’ve had this before! When I have to go for a piss this bad I can’t hold it! I’ve pissed meself before and I’m going to bloody wet myself again if we get on the train. There’s no way I’m lasting out to Wembley, no sodding way. Jesus, I’m going piss in my strides!”
It wasn’t only Nick and Phil who were staring at Danny in sheer disbelief. Several others who were standing nearby had heard Danny’s outburst.
“That bloke’s just said he’s going to wet himself!”
=========================
With no possible way back, Danny was stepping from one foot to the other right at the front of the platform, waiting for the next train. Nick and Phil were both feeling extremely uncomfortable at the situation, and Danny was sporadically touching the crotch of his beige chinos, whilst giving himself the occasional squeeze.
“Stop doing that mate!” whispered Nick, “you’re embarrassing yourself acting like that!”
“I’ll have fucking wet pants if I don’t!” snapped back Danny.
As the train finally pulled in and everyone pushed forward to try and get on, Phil heard someone behind them say, “This bloke in front’s going piss himself on there, try and move along a bit!”
=========================
The train took several minutes before it was able to depart as passengers tried to cram inside the already-packed carriages and Nick, Phil and Danny found themselves pushed to the far side. Nick and Phil were almost in a state of shock as they were looking at Danny in horror. Although he was likely to be Nick’s future brother-in-law, Danny was little more than a casual acquaintance and Nick had no idea at all about Danny’s past embarrassments. Dawn had, of course, told her parents about Danny wetting himself previously, but they had all vowed to keep the incidents to as few members of the family as possible. And so Nick was bewildered that he was watching Danny in such a predicament.
As the train pulled away, with passengers grabbing hold of whatever they could to keep their balance, Danny was bent forwards at the waist again, standing with one leg crossed over the other at thigh level, and with one hand hovering close to his crotch as if in readiness to clutch himself if needed. He was initially saying nothing but just looking downwards.
“Jeez, I think he’s focusing everything on trying not to piss!” said an astounded Phil.
Nick was equally astonished, “I’ve never seen anything like this! I think he might actually wet himself!”
Suddenly, the train trundled through West Hampstead station without stopping, as expected. But it was another dagger in the heart for Danny.
“What’s going on?” he groaned loudly, “why aren’t we stopping, I’ve got to get off, I’ve got to get off!”
“It’s non-stop mate, all the way to Wembley” replied someone standing close by, “we don’t stop at four or five stations, just straight to the stadium, why do you think everyone gets on this line?”
“Oh Christ!” moaned Danny in utter despair, “I want to get off. I’m not going to make it to Wembley!”
His comment was heard by everyone in close proximity.
“Is he going to piss himself?”
“Sounds like it, yeah!”
Within seconds, a chant went up in the carriage from hoards of the travelling football fans.
“Pissy pants! Pissy Pants! Pissy Pants!”
Nick put his hand up to his forehead, whispering, “Oh God!”
Just a few feet away, Danny straightened himself up and leaned back against the train door. There were beads of sweat on his forehead and his face was redder than normal. It was already warm in the carriage, and the windows were starting to mist up with the sheer numbers packed inside.
Danny was wearing a fleece-lined grey hoodie which was simply adding to the hot and stuffy conditions, and he wiped his hand across his brow as he pressed his legs together tightly and looked despairingly at Nick.
“I ain’t going to make it, mate!”
“Yes, you are” replied Nick insistently, we’ll be there before you know it, this is the fastest way.”
Danny barely heard the words.
“I’m gonna wet myself!” he whimpered.
Phil could hear a whole host of comments from around him.
“Has he done it? Has he pissed?”
“If he wees on the floor, there’s going to be an almighty scramble to get out of the way!”
“How can you get on the train and wet yourself? He must have wanted to go before he got on?”
“Fucking embarrassing for a bloke of his age to wet his pants, too!”
“He hasn’t done it yet! You’re talking like he’s standing in a puddle!”
“Look at him, if you’ve never seen someone of the verge of wetting himself, you can see it now!”
Two non-stop stations later, Danny was in a semi-squatting position, with his back pressed against the doors and he was clutching himself tightly between the tops of his legs. He was alternating from looking at the ground to glancing up at the ceiling of the train. His feet, clad in a pair of white canvass laced plimsolls, were firmly planted on the floor, displaying his pristine white sports socks, and he was gently but continuously swaying his knees back and forth.
Unbeknown to the onlookers, he was frantically tensing his buttocks and his hamstrings – a technique he had deployed on previous occasions when he had been desperately trying to hold on, whilst he could also feel his calf muscles tightening. He was fearful about standing fully upright because of the intense strain he was experiencing in his stomach, but his sides were aching so much that he wanted to twist and gyrate his body as he would have done had he been standing straight.
By the time the final non-stopping station had been passed and the train announcement was made ‘Next Stop Wembley’, Danny was looking down at his remarkably still-dry beige trousers and silently pleading for the train to begin slowing down. A few minutes later, his prayers appeared to have been answered as the train began to decelerate and gradually ground to a halt. But they weren’t in a station and an announcement was made,
‘Sorry for the delay, we are just outside Wembley Park station, but we are waiting at a red signal, hopefully we will only be held here for a very short time’.
About a dozen pairs of eyes, including Nick and Phil, immediately glanced in Danny’s direction, with his two travelling companions fearful of what they might see. Danny was still in the same position, other than that he now had his other hand holding his tummy.
“Nearly there, mate!” encouraged Nick, “we’ll get you to a toilet as quickly as possible.”
=========================
Three or four minutes later, the train pulled into Wembley Park station and the hundreds of revelling, noisy football fans piled off, immediately creating a packed platform as everyone jostled and pushed for positions and there was a whole wave of chanting and singing.
Nick and Phil were each holding one of Danny’s arms, firstly lifting him into a standing position and then supporting him as they waited for the crowds to subside slightly. They knew that time was of the essence, but they also couldn’t propel him through the dense masses, and they had to wait until they could all move together as a threesome.
With Danny struggling to put one foot in front of the other, they managed to get him to the staircase, where the two impending flights of steps presented a massive challenge.
“Where’s nearest toilet?” yelled Phil to a member of the station staff.
“Upstairs” he replied, “turn left at the ticket barriers at the end of the walkway.”
“He’s not making that! No way!” mumbled Nick to Phil.
Still tightly clasping Danny’s arms, the others helped him up the stairs, one at a time, but Danny was beside himself with anxiety and panic.
“I’m going to piss myself!”
Other supporters were turning to look back as there was no hiding his blatant display of desperation. He was permanently holding himself and squeezing his crotch in a frantic attempt to stop himself leaking into his underpants, scrunching up the material of his trousers in his clenched fist.
“Blimey, I’ve never seen anyone having to piss as bad as that before!”
“It’s going to be a miracle if he makes it in time, there’s bound to be a big queue at the bogs!”
“I reckon someone’s going to be watching the game wearing pissy knickers!”
There were lots more comments from the passing supporters, although there were also a few shouts of encouragement, albeit not all serious, from other sections of the crowd.
“Go on mate, you can get there in time, you can do it!”
“Countdown – Three, Two, One … and piss!” shouted a loud voice followed by a raucous cheer from a small flag-wielding group of lads.
“One man pissed his pants! Couldn’t find a toilet…!” (singing to the tune of One Man went to Mow)
=========================
They had probably progressed no more than about 20 metres along the busy walkway when Danny suddenly stopped, forcing Nick and Phil to stop with him.
“Come on, we’re not far away now!” urged Nick.
But Danny’s defeated face revealed all. He began to sink slowly into a slightly bent-knees posture and put both hands on the lower reaches of his thighs, resting his palms just slightly above his kneecaps.
“I’m fucking doing it!” he mumbled, “I’m wetting myself!”
Almost simultaneously, Nick and Phil leaned forwards and looked down. An ever-widening dark stain was spreading on the left side of Danny’s crotch and it immediately meandered all down the front of his left trouser leg, turning the light beige-coloured material a richly darker shade. Little tramlines were also running down the shin at the bottom of his chinos, before the wet darkness began to also glisten and stain the top of his right thigh.
“Jesus, he is as well, he’s pissing his pants!” said Phil.
There was little else either of them could say as they just watched Danny wet himself, saturating the legs and the crotch of his trousers and gradually extending the shiny wetness right down as far as his ankles and also his short white socks, which were exposed where he had scrunched up his trousers at the crotch.
Large numbers of supporters had turned to watch the spectacle unfolding and there was a buzz of astonished mixed reactions as lots of people stopped to see what was happening.
“That bloke’s pissing himself!”
“What the fuck’s this all about – the geezer’s having a slash in his trousers!”
“He’s only something like 20 or so yards from the toilets! How come he couldn’t make it?”
“He’s pissing like a racehorse, he must have been dying for it!”
By that stage, there was a large puddle on the floor where Danny was standing, swimming all around his white canvass plimsolls as the clear streams ran down his legs, making his trousers steam on the cold night, and soaking his socks, before accumulating into merging pools at both of his feet.
His beige trousers were sodden down both legs, and beneath his wet trousers, his plain white briefs were absorbing the ferocious jet gushing into his underwear, which was becoming saturated around the crotch and even around the bottom section of the seat of his pants.
As he stood still and the flow down his legs subsided, a series of cold trickles escaped to dribble down the backs of his thighs and calves, weaving through the dark hairs on his shins before soaking into his socks and dissolving into his now discoloured white plimsolls as well as spreading underneath the soles of his wet feet.
As a small crowd began to gather to watch Danny having his accident, a couple of police officers walked across to see what was causing the hold-up, and when they saw Danny standing between Nick and Phil, with his trousers drenched all down his legs, they pushed their way through.
“Is he alright? What’s happened?” one of the officers asked.
“He’s had a bit of an accident” replied Nick, “he couldn’t wait and he’s wet himself!”
“I can see that” said the officer, before turning to Danny and asking, “are you okay mate?”
Danny nodded, as the other officer said, “Is there anything we can do for you?”
The replay was a weak and resigned one, “I’ve fucking pissed meself!”
“Okay, move along” the first police officer said, ushering the gathered crowd on their way, although he noticed a few mobile phones out, no doubt recording the moment for their social media posts.
=========================
“What are we going to do about the match?” asked Phil quietly, I’m not missing it because he’s gone and wet himself on the way!”
“Well, we can’t just abandon him – or can we?” replied Nick.
Phil was adamant, “Either he comes to the game with us in that state, or he makes his own way home, I suppose?” before adding, “Danny, what do you want to do? Are you still coming to the football?”
“What, in pissed-in pants and trousers? Are you having a fucking laugh?” snapped Danny testily.
“So, what are you going to do? Go back on the tube?”
Danny shrugged and said nothing.
“Look, why don’t you get the tube to Harrow,” said Nick, “I’ll ring Dawn and she can pick you up from there.”
Danny shrugged again, with Nick adding, “She’s going to be well-shocked about this, I’m sure!”
‘More like fucking furious!’ Danny thought to himself.
=========================
A few minutes later, Danny was on the opposite platform, having waddled uncomfortably back down the stairs, with his badly-stained trousers clinging coldly to his legs, his clammy white underpants sticking to him, and his soggy white socks squelching inside his white canvass shoes.
Everyone was looking awkwardly in his direction as he stood alone waiting for the tube, with a dozen thoughts cascading through his head.
“This is unbelievable, that I’ve done it in my pants again! How many times is that now it’s happened? Dawn’s going to go crazy, how can I tell her that it was the same thing again? I can’t believe I let myself get into that situation after all those previous times – I’ll never fucking learn! She’s going to go mad that I’ve done it in front of her brother and pissed in me jeans again.
Beer makes me wet myself and I need to find some way to stop it happening.”
