The Incredible Story of the Swallowed Fabergé Egg and Its Gross Recovery

Imagine, if you will, the sheer audacity. The utter, mind-boggling nerve it must take to walk into a high-end London jewelry store, lay your eyes on a priceless artifact, and then – rather than simply pocketing it – decide the best course of action is to... well, swallow it whole. You heard that right. In a story that still raises eyebrows and elicits groans, that's precisely what happened back in 1990.

The stage was set in London's swanky Mayfair district, a place synonymous with luxury and exquisite taste. Within one of its exclusive establishments lay a miniature Fabergé enamel egg, a true marvel of craftsmanship, barely an inch long, adorned with delicate pearls and sparkling diamonds. It was, without question, an item of significant value and historical importance, destined for a collector's display case, not a digestive tract.

Enter Ronald Easterbrook, the man who would etch his name into the annals of bizarre crime. During a moment of opportunity, he executed a theft that was as audacious as it was peculiar. When staff at the esteemed Asprey's jewelry store realized the precious egg was missing, a frantic search began. But here's where the story takes a truly unexpected, and frankly, quite uncomfortable turn. The police, led by the remarkably patient Detective Sergeant George Holmes, quickly suspected Easterbrook and apprehended him.

The problem, however, was where the evidence had gone. Easterbrook, in a desperate attempt to conceal his crime, had swallowed the tiny, pearl-and-diamond-studded Fabergé egg. Now, for the police, this presented an unprecedented challenge. They had their suspect, they knew he had the goods, but retrieving it required a rather unorthodox, and somewhat unpleasant, approach.

Naturally, the authorities couldn't just perform surgery for a stolen egg. So, a waiting game began. Easterbrook was placed under constant observation in a police cell, his every... output carefully monitored. It wasn't glamorous work, to say the least, for the officers involved. Day after day, they waited, hoping that nature would simply take its course and the miniature treasure would reappear, albeit in rather unhygienic circumstances.

And eventually, it did. After a few days of what must have been an incredibly grim vigil, the Fabergé egg was finally recovered. It had survived its journey remarkably intact, a testament to its robust construction, though certainly in need of a thorough cleaning and sanitization. The relief must have been palpable, mixed, no doubt, with a fair amount of lingering disgust. The egg was cleaned, meticulously inspected, and thankfully, returned to its rightful owners.

Easterbrook, of course, faced the consequences of his actions. His unusual method of concealment did little to protect him from the long arm of the law. The incident remains a peculiar footnote in the history of art crime, a testament to both the desperation of thieves and the unyielding, sometimes stomach-churning, dedication of police forces determined to recover what is lost, no matter where it might have ended up.