Loose Head by Joe Marler

Author:Joe Marler [Marler, Joe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473581852
Publisher: Ebury Publishing

8

BARE TRUTHS

Five days to go until we play New Zealand in the World Cup semi-final and it’s time for our routine dope-testing. In Japan you provide samples through blood, hair and urine. Filling a little pot with wee is a very simple way of sharing your bodily matter. Or so you might think.

The Japanese drug-testers come early doors on the Tuesday, but not early enough for me. I’ve already been for my morning wee but I reassure them I’ll go again. We have to produce our wee sample in front of dope-testers so they can be sure there’s no funny business going on like switched urine or fake penises. Blokes have been caught filling sample cups with someone else’s wee pissed out of a plastic dick. The drug-testers take no chances, none whatsoever.

I’m used to the process by now. I’ll need to fill the sample cup with urine while he watches me, and I have to be the one who transfers the urine from the cup into two separate pots that cannot leave my sight until they are sealed.

I go into the bathroom dressed in shorts and a T-shirt with the serious-looking Mr Sugiyama Masayuki following me, clipboard clutched to his chest. He crouches down right next to me as I pull my pants down, and then he trains his eyes on my crotch. As I take hold of my cock and prepare to wee he moves in closer. And closer. And then even closer. What the fuck is going on?

His face is an inch away from my knob. An inch. No exaggeration. It is an utterly discombobulating experience. Or should I say discomknobulating?

Unsurprisingly, I can’t squeeze out a single drop of wee. Mr Sugiyama speaks broken English and my Japanese is sadly wanting. I can’t even make a joke to try to make this situation any less embarrassing.

We agree to take a break. We leave the bathroom together, do the bloods and then I try again, once more with Mr Sugiyama’s face right next to my knob, making sure it really is my own member I’m using. It’s no use. We go through the same routine again and again, going back and forth to the toilet. It’s impossible.

After an hour of this charade I realise I need a poo. Mr Sugiyama doesn’t understand me or my inadequate hand signals, and I realise I’m going to have to get the translator to break it to him. We go back to the testing room and I just have to come out with it: ‘Please can you tell Mr Sugiyama that I need a poo?’

When the message gets through, Mr Sugiyama goes bright red, but he stays calm and professional. I feel for him. Why would anyone sign up to do this job?

We go into the toilet again. He’s watching my every move, eyes on stalks, sample bottles at the ready. We’re both assuming I’ll pass water once I’ve pooed, like you do. I sit down. Mr Sugiyama’s face is between my knees this time.

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