Hashing it out
I went off the rails a little in my late 'teens, and spent a lot of time hanging out with a friend of mine who owned a clapped-out 1972 Vauxhall Viva with a Union Flag painted on the bonnet. (The car in question will shortly become germane to events, trust me.)

It was 2am or thereabouts, and he and I plus another friend had been parked up in the middle of Epping Forest partaking of some hastily acquired illegal substances in resinous form. To wit, a quarter ounce of hash. Having made the decision to head home - probably because none of us could remember our names by this point, although I do remember reading the back of a bag of Wotsits and giggling - we drove out of the car park, at which point the car's exhaust fell off. Simply fell off. When we put the car in reverse, it was right there in the headlights.

The obvious solution, formed in a haze of fragrant smoke, was to reattach it by the simple expedient of lashing it beneath the car with a length of rope which was then knotted over the back seat. We then drove off again.

Only problem? The rope in question was elastic rope, which meant that shortly after this, as we were travelling at some speed along a back road in rural Essex, the exhaust sagged and started to drag along the road producing a 15 foot trail of sparks like the fucking Batmobile. This sight must have stunned the two police officers we passed, although not to the extent that they failed to pull us over at once.

I was, as previously mentioned, stoned off my tit, although not so much that it prevented panic from sobering me up quite quickly, all things considered. Bear in mind that we still had the best part of a quarter ounce of hash in the car, and visions of slopping out at Holloway Prison were flitting through my mind. To this day, I'm still not sure what led me to accept my friends' prompting to shove it down my bra, but that is exactly what I did. The officers eventually declined to ticket us or search the car, for which I (and my still criminal conviction-free history) are eternally grateful.
(Leda74, Sun 29 Jan 2012, 3:50, 2 replies)

well i if i may say so this sounds like bull
i mean who ever heard of a viva actually moving under its own power?

*offers to go back in time to rummage in your bra for contraband*
( fluffybunnykiller Is feasting on the clitoris of life, Sun 29 Jan 2012, 12:37, closed)

I'm surprised that you stopped to pick it up.
The stoned mind does not always choose wisely.

They probably walked back to their car saying, "Cor, did you see how pokey her left nip was?"
( BrokenCoccyx doesn't mind if you grope on, Sun 29 Jan 2012, 19:24, closed)