Grooooooohhhhhh!

And yuk. And eurgh-nearly-threw-up-there. Lesley's partner John was a manager of leisure centres until recently and was known by her as the Poo Master. Why? Because of the frequency of calls from staff at various centres to report poo found in the swimming pool. Yes, poo. Yes, frequent. No, maybe not all to be blamed on children. Remember that word: frequent.

There were more revolting details about protocol and processes for removal, but I won't go into that here; you might just have had your lunch. (But the pool doesn't always get closed and swimmers made to get out........)

The name for this appalling act is not pooing in the pool, or worse. It's called faecal release. Sounds better, doesn't it. No.

Isn't it far worse than petting or bombing? Why aren't there signs to prohibit such a vile act? No Faecal Release Allowed. Offenders Will Be Fined and Have Their Noses Rubbed In It.

Now I can add to my many reasons for never wanting to go swimming ever again.