Stopping A Bus, Bare-Handed

“Right, drop your belts in the corner and let’s get warmed up”

Uh-oh, this isn’t good news. Baby Sumo is already showing signs of excitement. His lips are moist and he looks a bit flushed.

This particular semi-annual Officer Safety Training day was gonna be a sweaty one. We won’t be sitting round watching C*O*P*S out-takes, marvelling at the Americans’ baton work.

As Baby Sumo runs us through the risk-assessed warm-up, things are getting worse. He’s now salivating and I think I’ve spotted some perspiration on his nose.

Baby Sumo isn’t actually the offspring of a large, nappy-wearing Japanese gentleman. He’s not even Japanese. After a lifetime of practicing Juditsuate-fu, he now instructs us on how to keep ourselves safe out on the mean Small Corner streets.

He’s a Speak-Action-Think kind of guy. For the past few years he’s had trouble getting his hands through airport security checks. He’s also immensely strong and hasn’t quite realised it. The anguished squeals of delicate Police officers that he’s heard, on many occasions, haven’t made the point.

By now, Baby Sumo is positively drooling. One meaty fist is thudding into the opposing palm, emphasising important bits. His state of arousal is soon explained with that dreaded word. Apparently, we’re in for a day of “groundwork”. His favourite.

A quick headcount reveals a worrying statistic. 4 girls and 7 boys! Not very good odds at a school disco. Potentially catastrophic under these mating conditions. Realism isn’t a factor in the Risk-Assessment world and with lawsuit prevention a priority, girl on girl action was guaranteed.

During the hamstring stretches there was a lot of male bonding going on. Quick glances, subtle nods and conspiratorial winks. In these circumstances what we are all looking for is someone who’s not too big, obviously. Too small and they’re slippery, with bony bits that catch you in distressing places. Too fit and they’re going to exhaust you with their enthusiasm. What you need is a medium sized bloke with a paunch. I was smiling, on the inside; years of neglect had finally paid off. I was getting plenty of winks.

I was feeling reasonably safe. There was just one the hurdle to overcome. Natural selection. It’s common practice in the mammal world. Baby Sumo is definitely an Alpha mammal. We were firmly ensconced in his world. He was in charge and any dissention would be painfully punished. Even the brave amongst us wouldn’t be pointing out flaws. That was a task best left to the foolish. It would be poker faces all round until we had our new partner pinned down in a quiet corner.

Through waterfalls of dribble, we were being told that too many of our colleagues were getting injured and he had taken it very personally. He was going to do something about it. With fist and palm violently colliding he made his play.

“The bus stops here” Thwack.

It was clearly heard by all. A titter.

6 accusatory, and relieved, pairs of eyes turned towards the titterer. Closely followed by an almost lustful gaze from the titteree.

Baby Sumo had his bitch.