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This is a question Breakin' The Law

'I'd taken some mushrooms in a pub,' writes Allen Smithee, 'and things had got a bit odd. People turning into goblins, barstools into toadstools etc. I wandered off from my friends and found myself in a carpark. I noticed a huge liquorice allsort driving towards me and Bertie Basset got out. I kinda realised that Bertie was a policeman and my brain went into paranoid fast forward. I decided that I must be being arrested and said, "I'll just get in the back of your car, Officer" Bertie looked at me with disgust, "Not bleeding likely sunshine. Just piss off home ok?"'

(, Wed 7 Jan 2004, 20:34)
Pages: Popular, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

If you ever get the chance, do this:
Myself and two mates were pulled over in car by local five O... nothing on us but we were a bit pissed off cos it was the third time in two weeks...

Mate1: (to copper) Is it true that if I was to swear at you, say, call you a cunt you could arrest me?
Cop: (very stern)Yes
Mate1: But if was to think that a copper's a cunt there's nothing they could do is there?
Cop: That's right
Mate1: (pauses, mutters "right, right" to himself then walks a bit closer to the copper and talks right into his face)In that case I think you're a cunt.

Fan-fucking-tastic. Cue barrels of laughter from us and a very red-faced copper who's just realised that he actually gave his express permission to have the piss taken
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 13:03, Reply)
Dutch Police
Was on a stag weekend in Amsterdam almost 2 years ago. Crawled out of the red light district on the saturday afternoon with the munchies (don't know why). So off we went into the nearest Mcdonalds for some food.

On coming out we realised that the square was very busy with people, but having never been to Amsterdam before we figured it must just be a normal saturday afternoon in 'dam.

As we had to get to the other side of the square we set off in single file to fight through the crowd. The guy at the front of this drunken chain noticed a quiet area of the square and headed for it. He was right, there was a 20 foot strip right across the square with no people in it.

So off we trudged up this quiet area. Looking at the people on the right we noticed a lot of Isreal flags being burnt, deficated and the like. Looking to the right we were surprised to see this huge line of riot police on horseback, along with the huge foam cannons on top of the vans all pointed at them.

Both sides by this point were all staring at these 10 drunk kilted scots staggering up no mans land eating their burgers!
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 12:10, Reply)
Fnar Fnar
I once got rear ended by a police metro, I was waiting to go left at a juction went to go then someone came zooming round the corner, so I stopped. Unfortunately the police car didn't. So I got out of my car and knocked on the window and with the word I am still quite proud of asked "is this your vehicle sir?" they were strangly pleasant about it.
(, Wed 7 Jan 2004, 20:44, Reply)
I got to utter the ultimate line
One summer solstice I was walking back from a pub to where I lived in Basingstoke. Basingstoke has rightfully gained the title "Donut City" because of it's vast array of roundabouts, some of which have been decorated by large sculptures.

My personal favourite is the Stone Henge esque WADE ROAD ROUNDABOUT which has several standing stones on it.

At the point I reached the roundabout I spotted some pals of mine sacrificing a doll on the smallest standing stone dressed as druids, they were doing a near theatrical wickerman-esque performance to passing cars.

For some bizarre reason instead of approaching the men in the druidic robes a police car pulled up besides me and enquired "Are you anything to do with this disturbance?"

Without sensible hesitation I uttered the line "Stop, move along, these are not the druids you're looking for"

Surprisingly they just ignored my comments and decided to drive off. I'm Not quite sure what they wanted from me but I'm glad they stopped me.
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 19:03, Reply)
I spent about a year as a Postman
Every morning, about 4.30am I 'd set off to walk the 4 miles or so into the sorting office in Coventry city centre.
Every now and again (it happened about a dozen times) the plod would stop me and ask me what I was doing.
Bearing in mind I'm in full postie uniform and carrying a Big Red Sack I'd have thought it fairly obvious.
On the last occasion it happened I'd had a bad night and wasn't in the best of moods.
Cock in a cop car followed me for about 200 yards before pulling alongside.
"Oy ! You mate. Mind telling me where you're going at this time of the morning ?"
"Sorry Officer, but you've heard of Female Impersonators ? Well I'm a Royal Mail Impersonator"
"You What ?"
"I like to dress up in a Postie uniform and walk around the streets in the early hours."
"Are you taking the piss ?"
"You Fucking started it !"

Needless to say I got nicked !

In the car :
"You are under arrest for impersonating an employee of the Crown, anything you say etc........ Do you have anything to say ?"

"Yes - Ouch ! Ouch ! Bastard Coppers, Stop Hitting Me ! - Now, write that down !"

Got a laugh down the station and I got a morning off work.
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 12:47, Reply)
Oh the Hilarity
At a dress up twenty first birthday party many long years ago I came a cropper with the law.

I had downed a few too many drinks a tad to quickly and passed out in the toilets at the Rugby Club where the event was being staged. I awoke to find the venue deserted. As I stumbled around in the dark trying to find a way out I managed to trip the alarms. Next thing I know I am surrounded by police and being arrested for burglary.

Down to the station we went with all the cops in fits of laughter. They took my mugshot and then promptly told me to piss off home.

A friend who worked at the cop shop later informed me that my mugshot was on the police noticeboard for months.

PS. I was dressed as Spiderman
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 12:04, Reply)
Photoshop ruined my life
Bless me Father for I have sinned. It is 25 years since my last confession, so you'd better make yourself comfortable in there...

I had an old banger. It was a car. The tax ran out. But I had a scanner. I thought 'I wonder...just to tide me over until I get the various bits and bobs repaired and the car passes its MOT', so I scanned in my tax disc and gave myself a two month extension. I amended the little postoffice stamp to read 'Toytown Post Office', so that I felt I wasn't being dishonest, just having a bit of a larf.

It was fine. Two months turned into three, six, nine...all happily motoring away, pleased with my victimless crime (after all, when I finally got the car MOT'd I'd probably pay the back tax, wouldn't I? Yes, I would. Honest). It all started to go horribly wrong when I was running around against impossible deadlines one Sunday - I had to be in three places as close to simultaneously as possible, and so might have been driving a tad over the 30 speed limit when I was pulled over by a spotty ginger police woman. 'It's a fair cop', I thought, before looking again and saying 'No it's not'. It took this eagle eyed/beagle faced slueth about 0.0000004 seconds to spot the clever bit of shoppery, mainly because as I'd gone through various extensions, the versions of the tax disc were more and more lax. Instead of the lovingly hand crafted perforations around the edge and meticulous attention to the look and feel of the original paper, by this time it was crudely cut out and printed on some old photo paper and looked not unlike a beer mat. It was as dodgey as a library full of dossiers.

My existential training kicked in - OK, I thought, here we go, a fine, a few points on the license - let's see what being in a police station is really like.

They took me in and finger printed me, asked me a few questions which I answered honestly, I made the traditional phonecall (my wife was very understanding. No, really) and then put me in a cell. Interesting, I thought, smirking to myself and wondering if I should write some prison diaries whilst I was in there - or use the bog to see what it was like. After about an hour and a half (my smirk now rigid under my nose) the PC Penhalligan un-lookalike came back to the cell to say 'We are going to conviscate your computer for further investigation - where abouts in the house is it.'

Fucking hell, thought I. Fucking Fucking hell. Just how much pornography is there on my 10 gigabyte hard disc. Right click, save as. OOOo. Right click, save as. How much? A shit load.

My computer was kept by them for about ten months, and I was charged with dishonesty, forgery, and being beastly, but not for the pornography on my computer. I was picturing the local paper - 'Local man in horse cock scandal' (well, that was in my 'miscellaneous' section, all right? Just check your own cache before casting a rolling stone in my direction).

It all blew over in the end. I went to court, spoke to the duty lawyer five minutes before I went in and he did some kind of tradeoff with the prosecutor and I got a small fine of some kind.

But it was all pretty stressful. My advice: kids, don't do it. I was under the impression that if I just owned up they'd see that I was a perfectly nice chap and there was no need for any unpleasantness, but what really happens is that one they've got you, they've got you, and the slow machine of the law that is not nimble enough to capture all the two bit scallies or press charges against the big boys, can deal pretty efficiently with little middleclass boys who should know better and who want their mum.
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 10:49, Reply)
Never been arrested but....
I was the only driver in my circle of, well let’s just call them friends and leave it at that and so I was duly appointed the designated driver for all eternity. No alcohol at all for me but all the soft drinks I could down. Woo the excitement of nights out for me.

So picture the scene. 3am, Saturday night, clapped out Nisan Micra full of lads singing badly to the long wave radio as I try desperately to not stall the seriously overworked motor.

Unsurprisingly I was pulled over and as I opened my mouth to talk to the policeman my tongue chose that exact moment to tie itself in a knot.

“Can I help you Ossleffer?” I slurred.

They ask my ‘friends’ if I’ve been drinking and they all found it really amusing to say that they had been buying me drinks all night.

So out of the car breath test, completely clear of course but that’s not good enough. I must have been drinking because four eyewitnesses have just staggered forward to testify and in one case throw up a kebab on my window. I had to take the test again in another machine before they would be satisfied. So now it’s time for random searches along the lines off.

“What’s in the boot?”

Now I was dreading this because in the boot of my car was two swords an axe and a flintlock rifle. All from my role playing kit, yes I run around in woods hitting people with a latex covered weapon that would normally be enough to get me arrested I’m sure, so it’s made of foam or in the case of the rifle balsa wood and plastic. Now believe me when I say there is nothing that will relax a police man when you have to tell him there is a cache of weapons in your car, even if you start it by saying “They are all props”

Finally I got let go but sadly from all the stress I completely forgot that all my friends were sitting along side the road and not in the car when I drove off.

What a pity.
(, Wed 7 Jan 2004, 21:42, Reply)
Walking home from the pub
Happily drunk with my girlfriend about 100 yards to the house we started to discuss what we would have on the TV when we got in.

To my mind the only logical way this could be solved would be in a classic race home and first one there gets to choose. What I didn't expect was my girlfriend to steal a march on me and get away into a sprint first. Just before she got away I managed to grab hold of her arm and and in the ensuing tussle we both ended up on the floor trying to get away from each other. Neither of us noticed the plod car that pulled up at the exact moment and the female police officer clearly assuming I was battering my girlfriend asking her if 'Everything is alright?'. 'Yes' she says, 'first one home gets to choose the telly'. Oh says plod, thats ok then and drives off.
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 13:14, Reply)
Not dangerous, just embarassing...
One late night, I was walking home from work when I noticed a box that a store had put out with the trash. It was filled with plastic DVD cases. I opened a few and they were empty, and it just so happened I needed some spare cases.

I grabbed the box and continued home. A patrol car pulled to a stop near me, and the cop leaned out his window toward me. "What's in the box?"

Why lie? "Some empty DVD cases I found in the trash. I really needed them, and they were thrown out, so..."

"Can I see?"

Why not? I opened the box and handed him a few. He took them for a closer look, confirmed their emptiness, and then looked at the covers.

I didn't realize why he started laughing so hard until I realized where I had got them - outside the porno store. I took a closer look in the box, and in the light of the cop car realized what the covers looked like. I had just handed the cop a stack of empty video nasties, with very "illustrative" covers.

He dropped them back in the box, looked at me as though I were liable to begin violating myself at any moment, snickered "Enjoy," and drove off.
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 7:01, Reply)
Youth, Beer, and Police
In the winter of ohhh.... 1992 or so, I attended a Canadian engineering student conference in Hamilton, Ontario. Ahh, Hamilton - if Toronto is the armpit of Canada, than Hamilton is surely the arsehole. At any rate, it was the normal booze-fuelled state of barely-contained violence and lawbreaking that was the norm for engineering students, complete with theft of the giraffe from the city nativity scene and the attempted dangling of a Volkswagen Beetle from a bridge.

"Attempted", you ask? Yes, "attempted" - needless to say, civil engineering students may not necessarily be the appropriate parties to plan a stunt that involved hooking a large chain to the bumper of said Beetle, and to the rail of the bridge, before pushing it over the side. It's called "shock loading", lads, look it up. The Beetle fell. And floated. And started battering the bridge abutments, whilst being pushed around by the river current.

Said brilliant Civils fled the scene. Approximately 6 hours later, the fine fellows of the local constabulary applied their powers of deduction and realised that the culprits were likely some of them brainy types over at yarn yooniversity, and dragged them out of the conference (guess someone fingered 'em). Oh how we laughed...

So anyway, that evening, after the dumb Civils from the wrong coast got bailed out, it was time for (yet another) party. We (mechanicals) decided to host the party in our room, after having visited everyone else's rooms (in various parts of the hotel - silly bastards did NOT give us the two dedicated topmost floors and the empty buffer floor they were supposed to - this is important later kids, pay attention) and jiggering the cable boxes to supply free porn. We filled an entire bathtub with layer after layer of crushed ice and beer. Brings a tear to my eye and a lump to my throat to remember it even now. It was a thing of beauty.

Somehow, all the beer disappeared. I dunno. Thermodynamics or something. So there were about 200 heavily inebriated and otherwise self-medicated engineering students roaming the hallways, visiting each other's rooms, and more often than not, the rooms of complete strangers who were less than impressed by the invasion of the drunken idiots.

The hotel management called the cops. The cops, already somewhat peeved at us, what with missing giraffes and bridge battering Beetles, sent the riot police. I shit you not. Full body armour, shields, and shotguns. Against drunk engineers.

By this time, I had progressed beyond drunkennes into some wierd Zen-like state of mental inertness. I was wandering the hallways with some chums, carrying my frigging huge Engineering mug (capable of holding more than 2 pints of beer).

We turn a corner, and there's two riot cops glaring at us. One pushes my buddy up against the wall, and one starts in on me.

"What are you doing?"

"Walking" (ever helpful, I thought he might have had trouble observing the obvious)

"Where are you walking TO?"

My Zen calm shattered. "None of your fucking business, you little maggot of a man! I'm a private citizen in a free country and I paid for my fucking hotel room, and I'll walk around the hotel if I fucking well want, and no little wanna-be Gestapo brown shirt is gonna STOP me!"

Rather eloquent, I thought. Wise, no. He starts in on me. "Why are you doing this? You've got a career ahead of you, and you're going to get arrested for carrying around an open container of liquor and for disturbing the peace and resisting arrest and..."

By this time, his goon-like henchman had come over to watch the fun, and snatched my mug from me. Placing to his nose, he sniffed. Perplexed, he dipped his finger in the liquid and tasted it.

"Errr... it's water"

"Eh?" says brown shirt #1.

"Water. He's carrying a mug of water."

“Water?”

“Yep.”

At which point, the way cool mad robotics inventor prof from the U of Toronto showed up and dragged me off to his room for more drinking. But not before I rescued my mug. I get thirsty when I’m drunk. And that’s my most funnest run-in with the law.

Yes, this is my first post. My B3ta hymen is officially broken. And the username? After failing miserably at my first 3 attempts at a unique name, I got peeved.
(, Fri 9 Jan 2004, 5:40, Reply)
I once threw a polo off a bridge
onto a police car
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 18:24, Reply)
One night a friend and I were incredibly drunk (no surprise there)
we were walking down Trafalgar Square, and he was so drunk he could hardly walk, instead adopting a sort of stompy stagger. A police car pulled up and the officer asked if he was OK. I said "yes, he's fine, he always walks like that"... For some reason they believed me and drove off smiling.

Another friend's dad decided to blast a squirrel in his garden with a shotgun right in the middle of the 2 minute silence for Diana's funeral. Seconds later the whole street was crawling with police, but they didn't catch him.
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 16:42, Reply)
traffic cones
I've always wanted to purchase a traffic cone by legitmate means and get a receipt. Then get pissed and wander around the town carrying my traffic cone.
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 12:37, Reply)
Best police story. Ever.
This isn't me, but I love this story

An elderly woman living in Cheshire was upstairs, and she could hear people ransacking her house. Ringing the police to whisper "I'm being robbed!", they simply replied that they'd try to send someone round.

Not satisfied by this, she then waited 30 seconds, rang the same police station, and said:

"It's ok - don't send anyone round. I've shot them."

Within minutes, police helicopters and officers were everywhere. They caught the robbers, and when they said "But you said you shot them?" she replied "You said you'd send someone round!"

^ 100% TRUE story ^

yayness! :D
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 1:13, Reply)
pocket nasty
a friend of mine was walking home from an evening spent with his girlfriend at her parent's house one Friday night. As he walked he passed a car with the passenger-side window smashed. It had obviously been broken into and probably the radio stolen. He decides it's not his problem and continues on his way.
A bit further down the road a police car screeches up beside him and a bunch of rozzers get out, instructing him to place his hands up against a nearby wall and spread 'em, so to speak. Not a man to trifle with the law, he complies. Someone had called the police about the car and had possibly seen him leaving the scene.
"Where have you been tonight?" the rozzers ask him.
"My girlfriends house", he replies
They ask him to turn out his pockets - presumably looking for whatever was stolen from the car. He does so but is reluctant to empty his left jacket pocket. The coppers notice this and immediately demand to know what's in there.
"Look, let me explain..." he begins, but the long arm of the law is impatient, and a policeman's hand delves into the pocket...
and is immediately covered in cold jism from the used condom in there.
Previously during the night he and his gal had had it away during a private moment and had obviously not wanted to stash the johnny in her parents' kitchen bin, so Chris had decided to take it home and dispose of it there.
The copper apparently went white and said "why in God's name have you got a used condom in your pocket?"
They let him go.
That policeman is probably still haunted by that moment.
(, Fri 9 Jan 2004, 16:37, Reply)
My brother Dave, aged 13, had his bike nicked.
Two policefolk came to the door to investigate. I (aged 6) answered the door.
"Could we speak to Dave Interest?" asked a copper.
"Dave!" I shouted up the stairs. "It's the scum!"
They never did find that bike.
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 9:33, Reply)
some nutter my mate knows
Ex copper and a bit of a loon "Dave" was at his house one night when he was pootling round in his kitchen he looked out the back garden to see torches round by his lock up out the back of his house, he had some nick worthy stuff in there so he calls the local plod.....it went something like this...
"hello can you send a squad car round to ............... as 2 men are breaking into my lock up....I can see them now"
"sorry sir the nearest car is about half hour away" (or something like that"
so dave gets a bit miffed
"Half hour.....they'll be gone in half hour you have to be kidding me right?????" and hangs up

so he ponders about it and rang back after 5 minutes with this...

"Hello this is Mr ........... I rang 5 minutes ago to request a squad car..."
"yes sir and I said...."

so dave drops his bombshell

"no its ok no need to hurry Ive just shot them both with my shot gun"

and hung up......

1 Police Helicopter....Armed response and various other cops were there in about 5 mins

So dave answers the door as they rush round the back and catch the two guys in the act.....?????

Inspector guy says to dave in an angry tone

"you said youd shot them....what the fu...?"

so dave said "who's bullshitting who you said half hour for a squad car"

Genius..................

Totally true story........

honest guv
(, Fri 9 Jan 2004, 12:48, Reply)
Edinburgh Poliss
I was hitching just south of Embra, stuck on a roundabout being ignored by every passing driver. Along comes a police motorcyclist. "Here we go" I thought "he's going to move me on.
Which was true, but not in the way I thought:
"Whurr ye goin, son?"
"Leeds."
"No gettin very far, are ye?"
"No..."
"Hawd on a sec..."
He got off the bike, stood at the side of the road, & flagged down the next lorry.
"There ya go, sonny."

Chap!
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 13:13, Reply)
I was a teenage bomber
It all started so innocently with long afternoons under my bed ignoring my parents’ about the dangers of playing with matches. It then moved up to "genie-ing" entire boxes of Swan Vestas and chucking them out of the window. Within weeks there was a whole gang of us diligently scraping the heads of matches and watching with abject terror as they all went up in about a quarter of a second, usually depriving at least one of our number of their eyebrows.

It would have stayed at this innocent level had my mate Graham not got involved. Graham was a wizz at science, and filled our heads with ideas of rockets, bombs, and certain combinations of garden chemicals and innocent kitchen ingredients which I won't go into right now as WMDs are a bit of a hot topic. He would turn up after school with something he'd knocked up in his shed, which we'd pack full of "substances", light the fuse and dive for cover.

At the peak of our art we had rockets that could travel a good quarter of a mile, and what the bomb disposal people would call "improvised devices" that would leave a sizable crater. It was gratifying to see that some of the innovations we brought about subsequently turned up in the Iraqi Supergun a few years ago. This success, inevitably, was to be our downfall.

Being 14 year old kids, we didn't have a firing range to test on like the army did. So we used the school field. After one particularly excitable device had veered off course and set fire to a hedge, we were chased home by a baying hate mob who had witnessed the whole affair from the adjacent youth club. In our confusion, we ran through the wrong hole in the fence into our neighbour's garden, and it was quite a relief that the little squirt got a visit from the Old Bill complete with a down-the-stairs episode at the cop shop.

But had we learnt our lesson ? Oh no ! Up the local chalk pits we went the following weekend with a satchel of the things determined to make a noise. Dressing in combat gear didn't help our cause much: there was this blue flashing light as the law eventually rumbled our little game of world domination. There were cops everywhere, some of whom looking like they were prepared for World War Three, and all totally pissed off that we had spoiled their Saturday morning lie-in.

Being the cowards that we were, we laid the blame squarely on one of our number who had got cold feet and had run off home to watch Saturday Superstore on TV. Alas, we weren't present when the bomb squad went knocking on his dad's front door.

Crapping ourselves, we let off our entire stash in one go the same afternoon. I still have the scars.
(, Wed 7 Jan 2004, 20:49, Reply)
ok, a friend of mine was "mashed out on exctasy pipes"
or somesuch.
It was raining, and he was miles from home.
He decided that, if he tried to sell some of his gear to the police, they would arrest him for dealing, and he would get a nice place to sleep for the night, or even get a lift home.
Sadly, when he tried to sell them his LSD tabs and big pile of extacy, they just told him to "go back and sleep in the gutter".
(, Wed 7 Jan 2004, 20:46, Reply)
my old boss could drink
and so was always good for a story. One time him and a group of buddies went for a beano up the coast somewhere - there was about 16 of them so they hired a minibus, leaving at about 6am and arriving in time for the pubs to open.

Designated driver is on soft drinks all day, and after a few hours they hit the bookies to catch Channel 4 racing. The driver backs a long shot and wins a few hundred quid, so its back to the pub to celebrate. Chucking out time comes and they all head back to the minibus, where they realise the driver in his joy of winning "forgot" his responsibilities and is now as paralytically drunk as the rest of them. After a brief discussion they decide he can drive them home anyway.

So they're tearing down the motorway when the sirens come on and they all start to panic, until one guy comes up with a plan. They pull over, and all run off over the fields in different directions, assuming there will only be two coppers so they won't be able to catch them all and identify the driver. Except getting 16 fat, drunk old men out of a minibus takes longer than two athletic sober coppers do getting out of an Escort. The last guy out doesn't like his chances and decides to hide under the minibus.

He sees two sets of feet walk around the vehicle, then a flashlight shines under the van - "would you mind coming out here, please Sir?". Sheepishly he crawls out.

"Have you any idea how fast this van was going back there?" Plod asks

"No, but it was going a fair old stink when it knocked me over, Officer"
(, Fri 9 Jan 2004, 10:22, Reply)
This is a true story*
Against the better judgement of all his friends in the pub, a chap I know decided to drive home pissed one night.

On his way he had to go round a fairly large roundabout, but was so drunk that he missed his exit. He drove round again, but again he missed his exit like the drunken fool he was.

After missing the exit for the fifth time or so he said to himself, "Sod this!", and slammed the car into reverse. Of course, he didn't check his mirror first and went crashing into a car behind him.

Of course, a milisecond later the police decided to drive by. They stopped, got out and approached the car behind. Of course my friend was in a huge panic, stuffing polos into his mouth and trying to act as sober as possible.

After a minute or two, one of the officers wandered over and he rolled down the window. "Sorry about his sir, but can we contact you at home later. We'll have to take this guy into custody - he is completely pissed and claims you reversed into him."

*Honestly, it really happened to somebody I know, and not just a funny story I was told once.

*ahem*

(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 10:00, Reply)
Im sure a lot of people are aware of this already,
but a few years ago (seems like a lifetime now), I had a little run in with the law.

I left my flat on a friday evening to go and visit my dear mum for the weekend. Had a lovely weekend, and got some good R'n'R.

Mum drove me back on the sunday, and when we got to my flat, I was first through the door while mum was faffing with something in the car, which was lucky for me.

I got through the door and was horrified to find that all my possesions where scattered uncaringly aound the place and there was a note on the table, that to paraphrase said "The pigs were here, we've taken loads of stuff. Please come and be arrested by lunchtime tuesday."

Mum came in, commented that the place was a pig sty, and that was that for the moment. It wasnt until another three months down the line that she found out why my place was the sty it was.

The bastards had left all my vinyl next to the radiator. The had also seized over 100 items of "evidence" which lead to some moments of light relief while I was being interogated. When smug twat copper shows me a bag full of knives covered in a mysterious brown substance that they were very sure was resin, they refused to take a taste test to check my claim that I had been living off nutella sandwiches for a the last two weeks and was to lazy to wash up after myself.

The also confused an incense cone holder with a crack pipe. I ask you?

In the end the evidence list was dropped down to only three items, but that didnt stop me going to magistrates court five times, only for the magistrates to decide it was a matter they couldnt deal with, before bundling me off to crown court. Some arse court recorder decided I was public enemy number one and gave me six months and three months concurrent for possesion and intent to supply cannabis.

Prison food is shit, but the library privileges are great, and there are no bills to pay, so it wasnt all bad.

edit: I missed Christmas because of this. I mad it down to see my dad in the summer afterwards, and ended up picking my christmas presents up. Missed the last bus home and walked 5 miles quite drunk. Got picked up by the rozzers (they must have a radar for me). When questioned as to what was in the bag, my Reply of "Christmas presents" got me thoroughly searched, but they did apologise aftwerwards.
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 9:19, Reply)
a while ago
me and a group of friends where walking to a mates house, when the police pulled up next to us and asked us what we were doing/where we where going etc, anyway one of my mates who's a bit of a cocky git starts winding them up a bit and eventually tells them that we are going to a mates house and its the last house on xyz road, and he's welcome to pop in for a cuppa if he wants.

Well, we all laughed a bit, and carried on a ways in good spirit, got to the house in question, got very drunk, smoked a fair bit of various substances, everything was generally good, till there was this knock at the door.

non other than Mr Plod him self, some how , fuck knows how, someone managed to stall him for a minute or two whilst there was the fasted 'clean up operation' you'd ever have seen. well i say clean up, really was just using magazines to cover the offending substances. Mr Plod comes in, orders his cuppa, and watch's match of the day with us. The fact that we all had eyes redder than the sun, and the place stank of ganja was neither here or there.

Mr Plod finished his cuppa, then left, thanking us for making his night 'more interesting'

was a very surreal experience to say the least.
(, Wed 7 Jan 2004, 21:39, Reply)
After about 3 miles, my legs were getting weaker.
The wife,Shirley, overtook me, her father was pretty knackered and had stopped off at the pub but Shirley's mum had set a pretty sharp pace clocking regular 7 minute miles.....


oh, sorry , misread the question
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 22:27, Reply)
A bit of the opposite way around, this story
I was working in an off-license about five years ago and a couple of drunks come into my shop. One of them had taken a swipe at my head with a bottle of wine, I'd taken the bottle of him and told him to piss off, which he promptly did.

The police turn up, have a look around the area to see if they can spot the guys then come in to take my statement. About half an hour later we're sitting out the back of the shop going through it all and the bell dings for the front door of the shop. My boss wanders out to serve the customer and it's the mate of the guy who tried to attack me. My boss steps out the back and with a grin on his face says to the policeman "The friend of the guy who did the attack is in the shop asking if he left a bag behind. The attacker is standing out the front waiting for him."

Pause.

"What?" says the very baffled policeman.

"They're back and they are asking if they left a bag behind!" The grin on my bosses face is now rather huge. The policeman has a great expression on his face, quietly says "right" and tries to keep a straight face as he puts on his hat to go and arrest the very, very stupid people.

It gets better though. On attempting to arrest the guy who attacked me, the mate then decides it would be a good idea to jump on the back of the policeman. Now, what this was supposed to achieve is pretty ambiguous anyway, but he really should have factored in that the police were setting up a speed trap across the road at the time so in about five seconds he was manually lifted and thrown to the floor by seven officers.

A few minutes later the policeman walks into the shop to tell us everything is fine and they've been arrested. He was utterly amazed at just how dumb the two really were.

I did well out of it too, I got £50 compensation for the guy who attacked me, my boss shut the shop early and gave me a £15 bottle of wine. We then went off and got royally drunk on everything in my house.

That the night was one of the most enjoyable I've had in this city says a lot about Winchester.
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 14:02, Reply)
A Warning
Me and a mate went on a hitchhiking/camping trip to Devon when we were about 16. The tent stank badly of unhygenic teenager's mouldy old socks so we got some joss sticks to burn as an antidote. We were stopped by the local plod in Barnstaple one afternoon. The packet of joss sticks was sticking out of a pocket in my rucksack. The kindly old copper, pointing at the combustable incense devices and looking me straight in the eye, gave us a warning which has always stayed with me...

"You know what them things lead to, don' you?"

He didn't arrest us, but it certainly taught us a lesson and neither of us became junkies. Not after a warning like that.
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 11:24, Reply)
One summer....
I murdered 2 people, I was arrested and spent 35 years in prison.

well.... I thought it was funny
(, Fri 9 Jan 2004, 9:35, Reply)
I fought the law... and I won
I was cycling home from a friends house pissed. On the pavement. With no lights.

Stopped by a copper, who tells me off for 'drunk in charge', 'riding on pavement' and 'no lights'. It's a fair cop...

Instead of arresting me, he lets the air out of my tyres, tells me to walk home, gets in his car smiling, and drives off again.

Luckily, I'd only just left my mate's house, so I walked back 100 yards, rang doorbell, borrowed a pump, and within minutes was breaking the law again...
(, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 21:56, Reply)

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