When I was a kid, there was a TV show on regularly that young people would write into and the host would fix it for them to do something they asked for. The host was later implicated in a huge scandal (after his death) so I won't name him or the show. People would ask for all kinds of things, two examples I recall are helping to feed the animals at the zoo, or having a ride in a helicopter. When I was about eight I got told off by my mum for getting some clothes grubby, I don't remember the exact details but it prompted me, being a daft little girl, to write into the show and ask if it could be arranged for me to roll in the mud in my clothes, because my mum didn't like me getting dirty. I remember longing for them to get in touch with me so I could go on TV and get covered in mud fully clothed! Of course, I never heard anything.
Now, fast forward 12 years. I'm 20 years old and a good friend and I have managed to get tickets to appear in the audience of a popular Saturday night TV entertainment show. All sorts of things happen, silly competitions, variety entertainment and the like. They were into doing this thing where they would embarrass people with silly stuff they'd done in the past. I'm sure you can probably see where this is heading...
About half way through the show, one of the hosts came up into the audience and stood near me. "Are you Lauren?" he said. I blushed and nodded, feeling nervous. I'd seen this show enough over the years to know that this was likely to be an embarrassing time for me. "Ah, Lauren!" he continued. "A little bird tells us that your mum doesn't like it if you get your clothes dirty and you're after a little favour from us!" I smiled, my face now bright red, and squeaked in a tiny voice "maybe when I was eight!" The host laughed and continued. "You see ladies and gents, Lauren here once wrote a letter to a certain TV show asking if she could play in the mud with her best clothes on because her mum wouldn't let her!" The audience erupted into laughter. My mind was racing. I knew the kind of stuff they did on this show. I realised they were probably going to make me get dirty in some way. I didn't have a change of clothes. Oh my word! The host asked me to stand up. "What do we think of Lauren's outfit ladies and gents? Shall we make her dream come true and let her get it muddy?" Of course, the audience roared approvingly. He went on. "Yes Lauren, that is a very nice shirt and cardigan combo, those jeans are rather sleek and I must say, you've nailed the smart/ casual brief with those shoes and socks!" Just to explain my outfit, I was wearing a shimmery purple shirt with a short, fitted black cardigan over it, dark blue (you'd probably describe them as "indigo") skinny jeans and some rather neat slip-on ballet pumps, with black socks. My socks had bright yellow heels and toes but obviously you couldn't see those with my shoes on. The host continued. "OK Lauren, we're in a position to make the dreams of your eight-year-old self come true, take a look at this!" He gestured towards the front of the studio, the "stage" if you like. Four men were pushing a huge metal container out from the backstage area. It was like a rubbish skip, but much shallower. I would estimate it was ten feet by six feet and around eighteen inches deep. And it was full to the brim with heaving wet mud.
I'd thought they might make me do something silly and a bit dirty, but this was truly big league. It was a very deep, very dirty mud bog and it looked like they were going to put me in it live on TV! My mouth went dry. "Right Lauren, we're nothing if not generous on this show, not only are we providing a bucket list experience for you in that we're making it possible for you to get your clothes muddy, we've also hidden £500 in a plastic mud-proof wallet in the bog of dreams and if you can find it you can keep it! I'm sure it'll pay for some new clothes!" The audience roared with laughter and started to clap rhythmically. "Now, obviously you don't have to do this Lauren, but I must ask you now, will you go down there in exactly what you're wearing now and sink in the bog of dreams?" He thrust the microphone into my face. "Yes!" I squeaked in reply. I recalled occasions where they'd done stuff like this and the person relevant to the stunt had refused. It was always disappointing and made bad TV. I felt obliged to do as I was asked. The audience roared ever louder and continued to clap as I was lead down the steps towards the mud. The host explained that as per my letter of 12 years ago, I had to keep everything on to get in the mud bath, even my shoes and my cardigan. If I'd known I could have at least taken my socks off, then put my shoes back on, but it was too late now, even my socks were going to get muddy. And they really were too, because my ballet pumps were really small and low-cut and left lots of my black socks showing. The shoes were new and I felt a bit gutted about keeping them on. I know it sounds weird but thinking about it, I'd have rather gone into the mud in just my socks.
The host, trying not to laugh, shouted into the microphone. "It's time Lauren! Who need wellies when you have shoes, socks and jeans! You have five minutes to find the money, but more importantly have fun in the mud! There's 4000 litres of it, we "borrowed" it from a nearby farmer's field earlier today!"
The audience was going wild, clearly desperate to see me covered in mud. I couldn't believe what was happening to me. I definitely wanted the money though! These clothes were going to be wrecked and would need replacing.
I lifted one foot over the side of the container and lowered it into the mud. I winced as my shoe went in. I could instantly feel the mud oozing all over the exposed bit of my thin, black sock. I was nearly up to my knee by the time my ballet pump touched the bottom of the bog. The audience was going crazy at the sight of me with one foot in the mud. I stepped straight in with the second foot and lowered it right down next to the other one so I was properly knee-deep in it, with both legs. I couldn't believe how slimy and smooth it felt as it soaked into both socks. The ballet pumps had done very little to protect my socks! I imagined the mud seeping into my shoes and making the yellow heels and toes of my socks all dirty. It was funny to think of my nice socks, buried in this mud. I thought I should start looking for the money in the middle of the bog, and work outwards, so I steeled myself to wade across the knee-deep ooze. I pulled upwards with my left leg with the intention of taking a large step through the mud. I knew instantly that my shoe had come off. The mud was so thick that my foot had just come straight out of it. I just about managed to get my foot out of the mud. I stood awkwardly on one leg, displaying my bedraggled, muddy black sock. Amazingly, quite a lot of the bright yellow toe area was still clean and it looked ridiculously colourful against the backdrop of wet, brown earth that I was surrounded by. "I've lost my shoe!" I squeaked. The host, and the audience laughed like maniacs at the sight of me. Things rapidly got much worse. I started to lose my balance, so hurriedly put my sock down into the mud to stabilise myself. I stumbled slightly and as I lurched forward, I lost my right shoe too, and landed on my knees in the heaving, filthy mass. The mud was like glue at the bottom of the pit and had instantly nicked my ballerinas! "My other shoe has come off!" I screamed. It felt so weird to feel the slimy mud through my thin socks. I wiggled my toes, almost enjoying the feeling of freedom now my shoes were off. I guessed that the bright yellow heels and toes would never be the same again after this! I didn't see any point digging my shoes out at that time, I might as well do this in my socks now, I thought. There didn't seem any point trying to protect the (actually really nice) socks that I had on. They were completely covered in mud and beyond concern! Besides, if I did manage to put my shoes back on, it wouldn't be for long in mud this thick and deep.
Losing my ballet pumps in the mud so quickly had been a shock but I looked on the bright side. My socks were very smart, thin ones and I could feel the mud very vividly through them. It stood to reason that I could use my feet as well as my hands to feel for the money as I crawled around in the deep mud. I started to squelch around on all fours, feeling for the money. It quickly plastered all over my beautiful skinny jeans and I was well over my elbows in it as I felt around with my hands, so my cardigan and nice top were getting filthy too. I soon realised two things. The first was that I was still wearing my jewellery and watch so I hoped they'd be OK in the mud! The second thing was that the mud towards the middle of the bog was so thick that I was genuinely struggling to move in it! I was pretty much laying on my front in it pretty much stuck. I could feel it seeping through my lovely top and squelching into my bra. The cold slime made my nipples rock hard as I laid there bathing in mud on national television. I had to be faster to stand any chance of the prize. I made a kind of weird swimming action with my legs and feet desperately feeling around for the envelope hoping it would tickle one of my feet through my thin socks. But it was no good. I was just getting more and more stuck and buried in the mud.
I made a decision. I was going to stand up and make the most of the fact that I wasn't wearing any shoes. I reckoned I could cover the whole area of the mud bog in a couple of minutes taking small steps and feeling for the money with my feet. So that's what I did. I pumped my feet in and out of the mud with loud squelching, sucking noises. My feet actually looked really sleek in their shiny brown socks that melded seamlessly with my skinny jeans under their layer of ooze. Occasionally I'd hit a hidden pocket of much wetter mud under the surface and this would splash violently up my legs. Some of it even sprayed me in the face. I could hardly believe how dirty I was by now. I was almost running up and down the mud bog, pumping my socks in one after the other, frantically feeling for the parcel of cash. And then, eureka! I felt a strange sensation as my right sock made contact with something firmer than it had been used to. I threw myself back down onto all fours with a squelch and burrowed into the thick mud with my hands, flinging it in all directions. I pulled out the muddy parcel of cash and the audience went wild! I was so relieved to have won, I'd be able to replace my ruined clothes and shoes and still have plenty left over. I was pretty sure that everything would be ruined, even my underwear and certainly my socks.
"Well done Lauren!" shouted the host. "Now you've won the prize you are free to focus on getting your clothes nice and muddy!" I looked at him in disbelief as I stood in the middle of the mud bog, up to my knees, in my socks, with it oozing off my cardigan and splattering down my best skinny jeans. As far as I was concerned, I was covered! "You've definitely still got rather a lot of clean patches" he continued. "We've asked your friend Stephanie to come down from the audience and help you to get completely muddy! How does that sound?" I looked up in surprise and saw a blushing Steph making her way down the steps. "Err, fantastic, I think..." I mumbled. Steph took up a position next to a row of buckets that I hadn't noticed before. Of course, they contained mud. It was very similar mud to that which I was currently bogged down in, but quite a lot wetter, presumably so it was "throwable" from the buckets. Obviously, they'd arranged for Steph to pelt me with buckets of mud to make sure I was as filthy as possible!
The host piped up once more. "OK Steph, we know that, unlike Lauren, you don't have fantasies about wallowing in mud with your clothes on so feel free to put this on in case any mud gets splashed down you". He handed her one of those disposable lightweight boiler suits. Steph giggled, took her shoes off and pulled the overall on. She didn't bother putting her shoes back on and she looked really funny stood there in a slightly see-through white boiler suit with her black and pink socks sticking out of the bottoms. "Go for it then Steph, pelt Lauren with the mud-buckets, aim for the bits that are still clean! Her shoulders and back are still clean and the tops of her legs and bottom! She wanted to be covered in mud, you have to help her!"
I sat down in the mud and watched in mock horror as Steph picked up the first bucket. They were clearly heavy and I laughed as she staggered towards the side of the mud bog in her overalls and socks combination. She tried her best to propel the mud in my direction but it fell short, splattering onto the surface of the established mud, in front of where I was sitting. The audience laughed and some of them shouted "Booo" good naturedly. The host, with a glint in his eye, piped up. "We have a problem! Lauren, you may need to move nearer to the edge of the mud bog so that Steph can reach you with the mud buckets!" I shook my head and refused, making the audience laugh yet again. Despite being positioned in a huge pit of mud with everyone seemingly enjoying my filthy humiliation, I felt oddly powerful. He continued. "I'm sorry Steph, this can only mean one thing. Your friend's disobedience means you're going to have to hop in too, if you want to tip the buckets over her. It's the only way you'll get near enough!" I sort of got the impression that this was planned all along and I also knew that Steph was game for a laugh enough to do it. My mind raced. I actually really wanted my friend to get muddy so she'd be in the same muddle as me, fifty miles from home with nothing else to wear. A kind of a "strength in numbers" thing!
I think Steph, like me, realised she was going to have to sink in the mud so as not to spoil the TV show. That really is the mindset that you end up with. I guess it's better to be embarrassed by getting filthy than it is to be embarrassed by being a party pooper and refusing to do the crazy TV stunt. I'm sure a psychologist would be able to explain our willingness to wallow in mud so as not to disappoint people!
She seemed emboldened by the fact that she had a flimsy boiler suit on and marched purposely to the edge of the mud bog container. I found myself wondering if she'd put her shoes back on, or take her socks off and hop into the mud barefoot. She had really nice socks on. They were essentially plain black, but, like mine, the heel and toe areas were a different colour, in Steph's case really bright pink. She stopped, opting to put her shoes back on before getting into the mud. Clearly, she wanted to try to keep her pretty socks clean. The shoes were ballerina pumps, like mine, but they had a thin strap that went over the top of the foot and fastened with a press stud. To be honest, the shoes left a massive area of Steph's socks visible to the elements, wellington boots they were not! She was definitely about to get mud on her socks.
Smiling, she willingly swung one leg over the side of the bog and put her foot into the mud. She quickly followed it in with the other foot before saying "Ewww, I'm not sure these shoes are the best footwear for mud!"
She waded awkwardly towards me with her bucket of sloppy mud, getting her shoes completely covered in mud in the process, as well as the legs of her thin boiler suit. I could see that mud had squelched all over the large exposed parts of her black socks, through the large cut-outs in the shoes. Each step was accompanied by a loud sucking squelch as she pulled her foot out. I wondered if she would lose one, or even both shoes like I had, but it seemed that the straps were keeping them on despite the thick, sucking mud.
She proceeded to empty the bucket right over my head as I sat in the deep mud. It slapped and splattered all over my hair and oozed down my face, much to the audience's delight. I must admit, it was really fun being completely gunged in this manner! Encouraged by the host, Steph then started to rub thick mud all over me with her hands, focussing on the areas of my clothing that had somehow stayed clean thus far. I was basically receiving a fully-clothed mud massage to ensure I was completely covered in it. By the time she'd finished splashing mud all over me, I really WAS completely covered. The thick, wet, brown slime was all over me, from my long blonde hair, right down to the once brightly-coloured heels and toes of my black socks.
Speaking of which, I'd almost got used to the sensation of not having my shoes on. It felt really silly, but also good fun to just have my socks on in the mud. I just hoped that the gallons of mud would wash out of the lovely yellow heels and toes and the socks would live to fight another day. They were a favourite pair! I was just wondering where my shoes actually were, trying to remember where I'd been when they were sucked off, when, almost reading my mind, the host piped up. He addressed my friend, Steph. "OK Steph, we feel it's only fair to give you the chance to win £500, just like Lauren". Steph looked intrigued, as she stood well over her ankles in mud. He continued. "It's simple really. You've got to get down on your hands and knees in the mud and find Lauren's lost shoes. But you've got to take the protective suit off first. You've got to get down in the mud in your own clothes". Steph looked shocked, but then started giggling. The host continued. "Come on, step out of the mud and strip the boiler suit off, then get back in and have a good squelch in your own clothes! Remember, there's £500 up for grabs!"
Steph, still giggling, did as she was told, stepping over the side of the pit and exiting onto the hard studio floor. She couldn't remove the boiler suit with her shoes on so she bent down and unfastened the straps on her ballet pumps. As she did so I was amused to see a thin band of perfectly clean black sock on each foot that had been protected by the straps. She went on to slip the very muddy shoes off. Her socks looked so, so funny. They each had a large oval of oozy mud on the top of her feet, in the shape of her shoes. But her brightly coloured heels and toes were still clean and visible, having been protected inside the tiny shoes. I think they'd soaked up a bit of moisture so were wet but mostly clean. She ripped the flimsy boiler suit off and again, I noticed her skinny jeans were quite damp up to the knees, and had a bit of mud around the bottoms of the legs, but she was mostly clean. Finally she eased her partially muddy feet back into her very muddy shoes and, struggling slightly, refastened the straps to hopefully hold them on.
The host, with a glint in his eye, piped up. "OK Steph, before you get in the mud I'm a bit worried that it's drying out a bit and you might get stuck, we'll make it a bit easier for you!" A man appeared and started to soak the surface of the mud with a hosepipe. He must've added gallons and gallons of water, until it started to actually pool on the surface. At this point I was standing in the corner of the container, knee-deep in it, obviously still just wearing socks. I could feel the cold water seeping into the mud through the thin socks. It was changing the characteristics of the mud by the second, making it much squelchier! The host continued. "The rules are simple Steph, you have five minutes to find Lauren's shoes in the mud, when you find them you must take your own shoes off and put them on, to win £500!" Steph looked bemused, but smirked and nodded. I remember thinking it was good that we were both size 5 so this bizarre mud bog shoe swapping game would work!
"3-2-1-GO!" Steph wasted no time and jumped into the middle of the now much wetter, gungier mud. She plunged straight in up to her knees, squealing with laughter. The tidal wave of wet mud that she created splattered all over me, not that I could actually get any muddier by now. The mud was so wet and heavy now, it was like a ploughed field after a week of rain. It had instantly plastered all over Steph's jeans and splashed up as far as her face. She was almost stuck in it, clearly finding it very difficult to pull her feet out to walk around the bog on her shoe-hunt. She looked at me in amusement and said "Crikey, I'm nearly stuck here!" I responded. "You've only got five minutes, you'll have to get down on all fours and search with your hands! I think they're over there somewhere!" I pointed to the area of the mud where I thought I'd been when I parted company with my shoes. Steph aimed herself towards the relevant part of the mud bog and kind of eased herself forwards onto her knees, putting her hands and arms down into the thick, wet mud. At the same time, she kind of teased her feet upwards out of the mud so she was kind of floating on/in it. I heard her laughing like a maniac. She squealed "eeewwwww I've got a muddy sock!" then I noticed a flash of bright pink which turned out to be the heel and toe colouring of her left sock. Despite the strap, her shoe had been sucked off in the deepest part of the mud. Her sassy black and pink sock quickly succumbed to the comedy quagmire, becoming instantly filthy in the mud without the (admittedly minimal) protection of her ballet pump. I noticed with amusement that she still had her right shoe on, I don't really know how she'd managed that! She pushed a hand deep down into mud and, with a load sucking noise, pulled her shoe out. She tossed it towards me laughing. "Look after my shoe darling!" The one-shoed Steph crawled at pace through the heavy ooze towards where I thought MY shoes were.
Steph went at it like a woman possessed, pumping her arms in and out of the heaving mud, getting muddier and muddier in the process. After about a minute she screamed in delight and produced one of my shoes from the depths. It was barely recognisable, covered in, and full of mud. I guessed it was the second one that'd come off so urged her to go a bit further to feel around for the other one. Still on her knees she slurped and squelched herself further and managed to produce the second shoe. All she had to do was put them on and she'd won the £500. It looked like a good chunk of it would have to be spent on new clothes to be honest, but that was equally true of me!
Steph struggled around and kind of sat, semi crossed-legged on the surface of the mud facing me, clutching my bedraggled ballet pumps. The host chimed in. "Very well done Steph, now remember, all you have to do now to win the money is take your shoes off and put Lauren's on! It may have been made easier by the fact that you only appear to have one on, is the mud sticky?" Then he laughed like a drain. Steph started to feel through the mud for the strap fastener on her remaining shoe. She soon tugged it undone and carefully slipped the shoe off to reveal the wet, but surprisingly brightly coloured heel and toe of her black sock. She held her foot up to a ripple of applause and laughter from the audience. She quickly worked out which was the right shoe and pushed the pink tip of her sock into it, displacing the mud from within, with a gentle splat. She then put the other shoe onto her completely muddy left sock before thrusting her legs out straight and raising her arms in the air like she'd scored the winner in the FA cup final. She'd done it! We were both £500 richer, but covered in mud! Steph tossed her own shoe at me so I had the pair, and struggled to her feet, in doing so sinking almost to her knees in the mud. I picked her shoe up, and with one in each hand, struggled through the mud to the middle to join Steph, and we both took a bow to an appreciative audience. They had clearly enjoyed watching two fully clothed girls losing their shoes in mud and getting covered in it!
I thought about putting Steph's shoes on, but didn't really know how I'd manage that stood in the knee-deep bog, plus there was little point, my socks were past the point of caring about, they were just completely brown and soaked through!
As I stood there, in the mud with my friend I thought back to writing that letter all those years ago. When they'd revealed the huge tank of mud, although I'd acted horrified and reluctant, I'd been literally buzzing inside about having the chance to be slathered in mud with my nice clothes on. I felt helpless yet really excited when I lost my shoes in there, the feeling of playing in the mud in my best skinny jeans with just my socks on was actually lovely. There was something satisfying about knowing that I was wearing those sleek black socks with the yellow heels and toes in all that mud! It was ridiculous, but wonderful to feel the squelch of the mud through my socks.
Steph looked at me giggling. "Look at the state of me!" she whispered. I smiled through the mud and held her hand. The host addressed us. "Well done girls, that was a textbook mud bath! Let's get you out of there now and get you cleaned up!" Steph took a couple of laboured steps, accompanied by loud sucking sounds, then immediately stopped and declared that her (my) shoes had come off! She held up a foot and wiggled her toes as if to confirm that she was, once more, in the mud with socks on. I dropped down on my knees into the mud and pulled my shoes out of the holes where Steph's feet had been meaning I had all four shoes and we both slowly squelched out of the mud bog in just our socks.
Accompanied by a wall of applause from the audience, we slurped, slipped and squidged our way backstage in our traction-free muddy socks and were shown into a large clean-up room. A female member of the production team met us there and explained that we should use the facilities to wash as much mud off us as possible but we were not to get undressed, they wanted us to go back out to take a bow, even though we'd be soaked. I mean, it's not like either of us had more clothes with us anyway! It was basically a "wet" room with a couple of showers and a hosepipe attached to one wall. Steph just immediately got under one of the showers and started removing mud from her hair and face, working downwards. I decided to use the hose first to rinse out our shoes and then jet the mud off the outsides of them. This was actually really easy and I soon put the spotless, but wet, shoes down to one side. I then joined in with the showering using the other one. Then we took it in turns with the hose, blasting the mud off each other in the places we struggled with on our own. Places like our backs and bums, the back of our heads etc. Finally we turned the hose up to the max and washed our sock-clad feet off. It was so funny to see our black socks emerge with their bright, contrasting heel and toe colours emerging relatively unscathed from their mud bath! I was really surprised by how little damage the mud had done to our clothes. We looked almost normal, albeit soaking wet! The yellow toes of my socks were definitely a bit stained, but really not as badly as I'd feared. Steph's pink heels and toes were really bright still, but I guess they'd only been right in the mud at the end. She hadn't spent nearly as long shoeless as me!
We left our shoes drying off and squelched back out to the main studio to rapturous cheering, dripping water on our way!
This had been quite a night out! Definitely one of the most thrilling, fun and exciting things I've ever been lucky enough to do!