The Poo Jogger. A man in his 60s with a big corporate job in the retirement home industry who over the course of a year shat on the same bit of footpath in Brisbane while out on early morning runs. He was caught in a classic case of vigilantism when angry residents staked him out and photographed him with his pants down – perfectly-framed and flash-lit, a quizzical look on his upper-middle-class white face, the veins in his neck straining.

You may have seen it.