We’ve found the disturbing reason people are pooing on the floor at concerts

When a concert grinds to a halt because somebody has, according to witnesses, done a ‘huge poo’ in the middle of the pit, it’s only natural to assume they’ve been struck by the worst bout of norovirus since that infamous cruise ship.

Surely this was an isolated incident. A humiliating accident. Something you’d spend the rest of your life flashing back to while trying to fall asleep and cringing in horror.

Except…was it?

Increasingly, public defecation at concerts appears to have remarkably little to do with illness or sudden loss of bowel control, and far more to do with a bizarre new determination to secure the perfect spot in the crowd at literally any cost.

This week, a Devilskin gig in New Zealand descended into chaos after one concertgoer defecated in the middle of the crowd. 

Fans described the smell triggering a chain reaction of vomiting as human waste was unknowingly spread across the venue on people’s shoes and even up their legs. 

One witness told Kiwi outlet Stuff that the man ‘proceeded to shake a log down his leg’ before attempting to kick it away, while another recalled seeing a woman ‘with vomit in her hair, s**t on her legs, and just crying, crying, crying.’

While organisers later referred to the situation as an ‘unfortunate medical incident’ rather than a deliberate act, it’s difficult not to doubt that story.

It’s become impossible to ignore that bizarre toilet behaviour at concerts is increasingly common.

In fact, it’s a full-blown epidemic. 

Just last month, Olivia Rodrigo admitted she can sometimes smell fans wearing nappies at the front of her shows because they refuse to leave the barrier to use the toilet.

‘People wear diapers so that they can be front row,’ she said on KISS Radio. ‘That’s been an experience as a performer that I’ve smelled.’

‘I think about it kind of often,’ she added, with the shell-shocked look of someone who has inhaled horrors she didn’t envision being a part of the equation when she was a little girl dreaming of becoming a pop star. 

Singer Noah Kahan has found himself making similar pleas after human waste was reportedly left at one of his concerts.

‘If you have to poop at a show please dear god just go to the bathroom lmao,’ he wrote on X. ‘I’ve pooped my pants as much as the next 29-year-old but you guys gotta understand there’s a venue worker out there with a 1000 yard stare after dealing with that.’

There’s also been circulating reports of concertgoers allegedly urinating on fellow fans, human waste found at 5 Seconds of Summer gigs, and enough discussion around so-called ‘pit diapers’ that they have become a recognisable part of modern concert vocabulary.

Somewhere along the way, this kind of behaviour has become, if not normalised, at least widely employed.

What’s so fascinating about it isn’t simply that people are going to extreme lengths to get close to their favourite artists – they’ve always done that – it’s that they’re now willing to sacrifice the quality of their own experience to do so, as well as the comfort of the people around them.

Why? Here’s the key to understanding this baffling trend: For years we’ve treated these stories as examples of obsessive fandom, when in reality they’re examples of obsessive competition.

Modern concerts have become strangely detached from the music itself.

People compare who got barricade, whose videos blew up on TikTok, who made eye contact with the artist, who got the surprise song, who left with the best story to post online. The concert has become something to win.

Actually enjoying yourself has started to feel secondary. The goal isn’t to experience the night anymore; it’s to come home with proof that you experienced it better than everyone else.

And once that’s the objective, all sorts of bizarre behaviour starts to make sense.

If thousands of people are going to envy your front-row videos on Instagram, who cares if you spent four hours dehydrated, miserable, and refusing to use a toilet despite increasing urgency?

The problem is that this mentality doesn’t stop at nappies.

It’s the same mindset that has fans inventing elaborate queue hierarchies, policing one another’s places in line, screaming at strangers for moving an inch, or telling Rihanna to sit down for daring to dance at a Mariah Carey concert because, for a few seconds, she blocked someone’s view.

Everyone else becomes an obstacle to your perfect experience rather than an essential part of it.

That’s an especially depressing shift because concerts have always relied on a degree of collectivism.

They’re one of the few places where thousands of strangers agree to put up with a little inconvenience in exchange for something bigger than themselves.

You shuffle aside so someone can squeeze back from the toilet. You accept you’ll spend half an hour inching towards the Tube afterwards. You tolerate elbows, queues, tall people and the inevitable pint sloshed onto your trainers. That’s the unspoken social contract: everyone compromises a little so everyone has a brilliant night.

Because the crowd isn’t an inconvenience. The crowd is the point.

If all you wanted was a perfect view and flawless sound, you’d stay home and watch the concert film. Live music is special because of the people around you: thousands of strangers singing every word, cheering together, feeding off one another’s excitement. That’s the bit you can’t stream.

Increasingly, though, we’re behaving as though everyone else is simply in the way.

Twenty years ago, most people would have been mortified by the idea of wearing an adult nappy to keep their place in the crowd, not just because it was embarrassing but because it was fundamentally inconsiderate. Doing a poo in the middle of the mosh pit would have been unthinkable.

Now the calculation seems to be much simpler: if it gets me closer to the stage, everyone else can deal with the consequences.

Perhaps that’s inevitable when concerts become less about participating and more about collecting evidence. We’re no longer preserving memories; we’re producing content. The night itself has become secondary to the footage proving we were there.

That’s why people refuse to leave for the toilet. It’s why they scream at strangers for dancing. It’s why hundreds of fellow fans become little more than obstacles standing between them and the perfect TikTok.

Ironically, in trying so desperately to have the best concert experience imaginable, some people have forgotten the one thing that made concerts worth going to in the first place: everyone else.