Ahhhh London: The Poo

So. Tonight I am leaving work, and as I go to exit I am told I have a parcel. Hurrah! The parcel is of adequate size and shape, about the size of two loaves of bread, and fairly heavy. I hesitate a moment, then decide to take it home right away, "what am I waiting for?!" It will be just as heavy tomorrow.

So I happily stumble across The Strand, up Southampton Row and onto the cobbles of Covent Garden Piazza. Lovely.

At this point I think to myself:
"Hey there Self, gee I sure wish I had a large bag to carry this parcel in. With my already large, filled-to-the-brim shoulder bag, the strain is juuuuuust over the comfortable mark.

And suddenly! Like magic! A large, paper MONSOON* bag appears out of the corner of my eye. AHA!! It is the perfect size and shape to house my parcel. I pick up the bag, I shake it open, I prepare to house my parcel when SUDDENLY I sniff...

[sniff. ... sniff ...]
OH DEAR ...YEP. There it is. Clear as day.

It's human feces.

No no, it couldn't be a dog's; it is too large, too MASSIVE a turd to be anything but human and this gets me thinking: how desperate does a person have to BE to shit in a bag in the middle of Covent Garden and NOT EVEN HAVE THE DECENCY TO THROW IT AWAY?

A bag.
Full of kaka.
What next?
Ahhhhh London.