Looking at the locker in the sports changing rooms one fine day, I remarked that I thought I could just about fit in one if I curled up very small. Someone expressed disbelief, so I smugly clambered into the locker and curled up. Doubting Gitface said it only counted if the door could shut fully, so with a big smile on my face I pulled the door shut. He couldn't believe his luck. Normally locking someone into a locker took several strong men and a couple of bruised or broken limbs; in this case, all he had to do was flick the lock shut and go to lunch. Pride stopped me from trying to attract attention until several minutes after everybody else had left.