the price of death
i was merrily cycling my way to my first job, in the pitch dark at 4 in the morning.
whilst darting off the pavement i cut up jam sandwich, who quickly pulled me over. out steps the obligatory fresh faced young cop and old jaded tosser cop.
"why dont you have any lights fitted to you bike?"
"because i cant afford them. i havnt had my first paycheck yet"
"well, can you afford... TO DIE?" he says over dramaticaly
helpfully, the young pig makes a fair counter point-
"dying is free, mick"
(furey, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 17:14, Reply)

Nice policeman, stupid mate
So Glastonbury festival 2004, Sunday sitting chilling in the glade tent, all a bit come-downy, cept our mate who still had half the drugs of the entire festival floating round his system, pills, speed, K, mushroom, you get the picture he was a little worse for way.

Any-way, two coppers come into the tent, start going round talking to everyone, we get a bit nervous, but they seem nice festivally-type bobbies so not to worried. They approach:

Police: Hi, not to worry, nobody is in trouble, we're just going round warning people that two girls have collapsed in the glade, we can't wake them so we don't know what they've taken, so we're just warning people to be careful if buying pills as there might be a dodgy batch going round.

F**ked mate (with fear of god in his eyes): I didn't kill anyone officer!!

Police (highly amused): No we're not saying… look we're just saying to be careful if you buy drugs, stay in pairs.

FM: We don't have any drugs!!! we took them all.

Me, with head in hands: We'll be careful officer.

Policeman: (patting FM on back in an affectionate way, while his partner is doubled up laughing) Look after your mate eh.

we will. Who says all coppers are tw@ts, sketchy mates on the other hand…
(Gert-Big-Robot-Gal, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 9:56, Reply)

He jumped without a parachute
My dad used to be a copper. One day he was called to the local parachute school where a bloke had plummetted to the ground after his chute failed to open. Said parachute school is on the border of two counties, so officers from two forces turned up.
As they stood over the dead guy, firmly embedded in the earth, my dad, who will do anything he can to get out of paperwork, decided the corpse wasn't in Nottinghamshire - it had fallen into Leicestershire, and tried to get the other rozzer to deal with it. The Leicestershire copper argues the body was in Notts and therefore not his juristiction either. After a heated argument, the OS map comes out, they unfold it over the bonnet of the panda car , work out which square they're standing in, work out the scale then pace out the required number of steps from a local landmark to determine where the county boundary is in this field. Turns out the stiff was in Leicestershire by three paces. Me dad went home.
( Sausagegirl, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 8:21, Reply)

"It was a good half ounce, officer..."
I was at Tottenham Court Road Underground station one evening, riding the escalator to the exit. Just as we reached the top, the guy in front of me whipped something out of his pocket and slapped it on the side of the escalator.

Being a nosy sort of git, I picked it up. It was a lump of dope resin, wrapped in cling-film. Bloody hell I thought, then looked up to see about eight policemen and two sniffer dogs right in front of the ticket gates. The dogs are already going nuts, barking at me and I was about to be arrested for someone else's drugs.

I thought about it for a millisecond and then did the only obvious thing to get me off. I pointed at the guy who was just exiting the ticket gates and declaimed loudly "I've got that man's drugs!"

He got nicked, still feel a bit bad about that but it was him or me and they *were* his drugs. I really don't think that the line "I've just found it this minute, I thought it was a toffee, honest" would have worked, despite being 100% true.

The police asked me to give a statement and I described the whole thing, word by word. The policeman asked me "What size was the object you picked up off the escalator?"

All I'll say is, the response "It was a good half ounce, I reckon officer" was the wrong one. Arrange the words Cavity, Search and Body into the sentence of your choice...

If the situation ever arises and you are asked to estimate the size of a drug find, describe it in inches or centimetres, not weight or street value...
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Thu 22 Sep 2005, 12:36, Reply)

I haven't done anything wrong...
I was drinking in the pub quite innocently one evening with a couple of buddies, when this WPC came in. She strolled right over to me and made me stand up.

She proceeded to take all of her clothes off, revealing various bits of flimsy underwear and naked flesh, eventually uncovering her pert breasts which she made me cover in squirty cream. She then ordered me to lick it off.

After this she handcuffed me, stripped me almost naked and whipped my backside. Then she let me whip her backside. After about twenty minutes she pulled all her clothes back on and left.

To this day I am convinced she was not a real police officer.
(Bertie Dastard Wax on, wax off, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 10:51, Reply)

hmm
..side note.. why have all the scottish types decided to write their stories in 'Irvine Welsh'. Its a pain in the arse to read and verging on the illiterate.

(Might have answered my own question there, but ho hum)

Some of you probably know that I'm a copper and have already had a go at me in a previous QOTW. Whatever, heard it all before, any copper who cant handle a mouthful of crap from the proles doesnt last long.

As someone who has attended many a scene of destruction after a drinks/drugs related incident, I concur wholeheartedly with all those who quite rightly stood up against the arseholes who think its all just a bit of harmless tooling about.

The one memory, that let me assure you will never escape me, is my contribution to this QOTW, was arriving at an RTA on the A50 near Stoke-on-Trent. The small Fiesta at the side of the road was quite unremarkable except for the fact it was upside down. The 17 year old male driver was sat nearby, just sobbing. His three friends were further down the road. One 18 year old male and two 16 year old females. In the first of the evenings two surprise twists, all three were totally or partially decapitated.

His crime? 3 joints of cannabis that evening.

Thats 4 families destroyed. Directly 21 people. Indirectly, add the rest of the family, the schools etc.

The other twist; the scene was almost entirely silent, the road having been closed after the crash. You could quite easily hear the sobbing from the driver. But you could also hear the firemen, ambulance drivers, other coppers and some other accident investigators.

It was truly the most horrific and unsettling night of my life.

If one of you thinks that drink or drug driving is 'harmless' then let me know. I'll bring you down to an accident scene one night and I'll let you decide for yourself.

Sorry to get heavy, I know its not the forum. But it *is* a question called 'Police'.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 16:51, Reply)

Bad news and worse news
My friend's sister was tragically killed while on her gap year in Africa.

A new WPC (who has kept in contact with the family) was given the task of breaking the news to her mum and dad. It was the first such "tell the relatives" thing she had had to do.

She and a colleague drive up to her parent house to tell them the bad news. There is a crunch on the drive way. Not only have the parents lost their only daughter but now their cat too.

I suppose the conversation could only be "I have some bad news and some really bad news...".
(Gusofnavarone always makes a map of france from sarnies, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:40, Reply)

Driving back from Cornwall,
pulled into Petrol station to fill up, my mate spilt petrol on his hand, washed it off (well thought he got it all off)left there pulled smack bang into a traffic jam, I lit a ciggarette and his hand went up in flames, nowhere to go he sticks his hand out the window and starts waving it about, behind us was a copper, he jumps out of his car and arrest's my mate, possession of a firearm!!!!
(djgalaxe, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:39, Reply)

My brother..
...has always been the joker of the family.
One evening, we were out making gas-bottle deliveries, when a jam sandwich pulled us over.

Lady PC: "Tell me sir, when did you last check your lights?"
Bro : "Oh, last week, I guess"
LPC : "Well, one of your rear lights is not working."

They trundle around to the back of the car to inspect.

LPC: "I'd like to check your driving licence"
Bro: "Here it is"

She laid it on the bonnet of the car with one hand, and took out her torch so that she could read it clearly.

The torch kept flickering, then going out. She had to shake it several times to get it to light again.

Bro: "Tell me, when was the last time you checked your lights?"

I howled with laughter. She booked him, points and fine.

Lurker no more.
(Fred Trellis I am her son. Get over it., Fri 23 Sep 2005, 10:13, Reply)

Driving to Glastonbury
Police pull the car (a complete shed) over, approach the right hand side and get my mate to pull his window down.

"Sir, I belive you are under the influence of alcohol"

"Yep"

"In that case, I shall have to arrest you for drink driving"

"That won't be necessary" (you'll have to imagine the slurring - I can't spell it)

"In fact, I think you're completely intoxicated, and may also be under the influence of drugs"

"Yes, I'm afraid I am"

"Please step out of the vehicle sir, you are under arrest for driving under the influence"

"No"

"No? Why not?"

"Because this car's left hand drive......"

Cue red faced copper, letting us go on our merry way.

(the actual exchange between the two of them went on for far longer but you get the gist).
(Eli-T, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 17:37, Reply)

When stopped by the Rozzers...
...for braking incredibly late at a roundabout and taking the perfect racing line at 2am in the morning - when there was no-one else around - the "naused-off for having to do the late shift" rozzer approached my car and I lowered the window. Cacking it because I knew I also had a bulb out in the brake-light, my mate who'd been smoking and drinking all night decided to answer the standard questions on my behalf..and in his best Alec Guinness voice bellowed out, "These arent the droids you're looking for..!" Breath test and car search followed, along with a ticket to produce documents in 7days. The dirty rozzer even took my FHM magazine.
(AveUseenIT, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 12:17, Reply)

The heroism of our police!
In the darkened alley I felt quite helpless. I was surrounded by a gang of eight slobbering tramps and they clearly had designs on my fleshy cushion. I was only twelve years old, and my cushion was soft and smooth. There was neither a hair nor a pimple to sully its unblemished surface and I wanted to keep it that way. I breathed in and tightened my belt. The groaning vagrants moved in and I could smell their cheap-whisky breath and trouty hair. The leader of the gang had a face like a sea bream and his left eye wobbled slightly with excitement. They closed in and I felt sure that I was in for one hell of a jimmynudging. I gripped my belt buckle tightly and closed my eyes. I could hear the shallow, frantic breathing of these hobos as I felt the first hand upon my thigh. Then there was the chaotic sound of an untidy scuffle. I opened my eyes to find a blue-suited man of the law flinging my assailants in all directions. The breamish tramp was flung at least ten feet into the air and he landed heavily atop one of his accomplices with a grunt and a honk.

Within seconds the alleyway was silent, save for the groaning of the eight jimmynudgers. The lawman had his back to me. He stood an impressive six feet and seven inches, although his back was hunched over quite noticeably. Was he injured? I felt compelled to offer my assistance.
"Excuse me, officer," I began. "Are you hurt?" I approached the policeman, but he was quick to stop me.
"Advance no further, young man!" he commanded. I stopped immediately. His voice was shrill and cat-like. I tried to peer round to get a glimpse of his face but it was obscured by his hat. "Come no closer," he asserted. "Look upon me not with thine eyes, but look into my soul with thine heart, for my face speaks falsely of my character."

As he said this, one of the tramps attempted to rise to his feet, presumably to stage another attempt at my rear spout. My saviour, wasting no time, swiftly clopped over and forced his mighty hoof through the vagrant's skull, screaming, "Curse thy nudgery!" I was confused and this made my head spin. I dropped to my knees and retched.

"Please sir," I begged, when I had finished retching. "I have looked into your soul. Now let me look upon your face."
The policething thought for a moment, his head bowed. He gave a deep sigh, removed his hat and lifted his head. To my abject disgust he had the face of a tapir, and the elongated, phallic snout moved independently. His eyes were small and sickening, his mouth black and hairy and shadowed by that unsightly proboscis. I retched again while begging him to leave and never show his face again. He replaced his hat, deposited a stool and trotted off merrily.

I felt a great sense of guilt afterwards. My reaction to his hideous visage, though genuine, had been somewhat harsh. Weeping, I collected the stool from the damp floor of the alley. I treasure it to this day.
(stusut79, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 17:34, Reply)

Dog Fun
My friend, E, as a new copper, was called to go to a house where the occupier had been reported for having relations with his dog in the back garden.

Did E's partner and superior arrest the man for animal cruelty? No, apparantly he offered the following advice.

If you're going to **** your dog, don't do it in the ****ing garden where every ****er can see you, do it in the ****ing house so we don't waste our ****ing time chasing up sad ****ing pervs like you.
(lawlam, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 11:35, Reply)

Ma favourit
Its rare that some punter outwits us smart alec coppers but it happens :)

Nicked one guy last month and read him his rights etc. He asked to clarify that we had to take note/record everything he said and we agreed. He thought about it then said, calmly, and orderly..

"Ow, ow, stop that, oh god it hurts, you pigs are really hurting me, ow ow no god not my eyes ahhhhh"

Made us laugh.

We kicked the shit out of him in the cells later.

Last bit not true, calm down.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Sun 25 Sep 2005, 17:49, Reply)

pulling the cops over
It was about twenty years ago and I was about 25, I was driving down the main street in my home town when these two coppers pulled out of a side road in front of me without looking, I almost crashed trying to avoid them and saw red. I accelerated after them, overtook them in the street and braked hard in front of them. I got out of the car, ran up to them, pulled open the drivers door and called them " a pair of complete tossers" and proceeded to describe in detail how they should grow up get a life and learn to drive.
They never spoke during all of this but just stared at me in amazement (rather ashen of demeanour)
I get back in my car and drive off, by now the adrenaline has worn off and I am thinking oh fuck what have I done. I go home and wait to be arrested but nothing ever happened.

Step forward to two years ago when I was teaching IT to a bunch of evening classers and I told them to type a brief story, Title; " The funniest thing that ever happened to me"
I student writes the whole of the previous episode, it turns out he was one of the two rookie coppers!
He said that he went back to the station and told the other coppers who laughed like drains and then said they would pull me in. His only problem was that he and his partner had been so shocked that they couldn't remember what I even looked like and had not taken my number.
He told me it had put his promotion prospects back about 3 years and the story was still told to every new rookie copper at that station.
When I told him I was the guy who had shouted at them he was completely dumbfounded but give him his due he went to the pub after the lesson and insisted on buying me a pint.
(Stunt slug If God existed I'd want to fight him, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 13:16, Reply)

Spanish Plod
Took a football all the way to Bilbao on the ferry so that when we got there, we could play football in the carpark until the return leg.

We borrowed a couple of traffic cones for goalposts and proceeded a game of 5-a-side. After about twenty minutes a bloke in a very smart, military looking uniform, who turns out to be a Spanish copper, approaches us and tells us in perfect English to stop playing football in the carpark.

Being young, slightly the worse for drink and English we get all cocky and give it some, "why should we". Copper opens his jacket, points at his Glock automatic pistol and says "Because I have a gun".

Class!
( Linbox has a serious dunk habit, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 18:42, Reply)

me and a mate were off to a party
and I was carrying his didgeridoo (obviously we were aiming to impress ze ladies with our esoteric talents)

copper pulls up, gets out and asks me what exactly it is that I'm holding. I look at him, slightly incredulous, and say "a didgeridoo".

the copper then asks what it is, so I tell him it's a musical instrument. at this point he's looking more and more suspicious so he asks me to play it.
I give him a lengthy parp, to which he replies, "ah sorry mate, I thought it was a traffic cone."

it was made of wood, five feet long and not in any way cone-shaped. I can only surmise that he was on crack
( gravytrain, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 15:29, Reply)

Good boy rover
Cousin of mine out pissed up with his mate, and find a road bypass building site. They borrow the road roller and trundle along on to the road as they can't be arsed to walk home. Blue lights everywhere, and they're nicked. Walking back to the van, and cousin does a runner accross a field with his hands cuffed behind him. By this time a dog unit has arrived, and they set a dog after him. Just as it catches up to him, he tries his luck, turns around and shouts SIT! and the dog did just that. He starts pissing himself laughing as he wasn't expecting it to work. He is re-arrested as he can't get up from laughing. All the way to the station all he kept repeating was "your dog's shit" until he got a kicking for his troubles.
And the result of the night: my cousin gets convicted for being "Drunk in charge of a carriage", which was the first time it had been used in the county for 80 odd years. (no number plates, so can't count as drink-driving, but the coppers searched through the rule book as they had to get the cheeky fucker for something)
( Ulic hissing slightly, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 16:04, Reply)

Railway Decapitation
My old housemate's father is a detective for the Bristol area. one day he was called out to a railway line leading out of the city where there had been a death on the railway line as a train hit someone (suicide or foul play not known) As a result the body was now minus a head. to do all of the forensics stuff they like to do, they had to close down the line for a while with the train due to leave being stuck in the station.

the search for the head wasn't going too well as the train had been going at some speed when it hit the poor bugger.
After an hour it is agreed that the trainline should be opened up again, with the trains moving slowly past my friend's dad and the other officers playing hunt the head.
Just as the first train to leave the station pulls along side one of the officers he turns around holding a severed head shouting "found it".
Apparently the look of horror on the passengers' faces was priceless.
( sudo is bored, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 15:26, Reply)

Never been done by the cops, but there's still plenty of time...
My dad has though.

Having refreshed himself with a few gallons of cider in Bournemouth, he was just cruising home merrily (in his Ford Cortina, bless him), when he clipped a parked car and broke off the wing mirror. Being an honest soul (I suspect I might have just floored it and made for the horizon), he knocked on the owner's door and apologised, and because he is such a charming bloke, got everything sorted out. After saying goodnight and shaking hands, he got back into his car.

Then the "filth" arrived.

It turned out, some nosy neighbour had actually witnessed my poor dad "vandalising" the car, had called the boys in blue, who promptly showed up en masse. Handcuffed, he was driven to the copshop, where a lugubrious sergeant wrote out a report of the incident. Handing this to my father, he simply said "Sign there"; my dear old drunken dad did better than that. When the sergeant got the report back he had fit - dad had gone through the whole thing correcting the near illiterate sergeant's spelling mistakes, and giving it a D minus grade ("Must try harder - see me after the lesson").

After a night in the cells, he was woken by the viewing grate opening, and a grunted question "You want some breakfast?". "Sure," replied dad, "What's on the menu?".

Slam.
( alcuin, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 15:23, Reply)

I love teh police, me.
Especially when you add a language barrier, laws you don't understand, a healthy dose of corruption and a culture that you've only known anything about for the last 3 days.

T'was new years day, Koh Chang, Thailand. The night before had contained as much merriment as you could expect on a tropical island with non exsitant licencing laws and fireworks made of pottery. This, lack of sleep and 2 of my mates (one of them's mankydog from the B3ta board, the other's big_treacle, but he's a bit shy) shortly heading back to the UK ensured that we weren't up for doing the same again, so we went to our favourite bar for a couple of beers before crashing out. The bar in question was our favourite mainly due to the owner. He never slept, laughed hysterically at anything you said, insisted on getting you very, very drunk and lived purely off tequilla slammers. Legendary.

As we approached the bar Bo, the slammer addict directed us to a table where 2 thai girls were sat. One was perfoming a quite blatant attempt at skinning up (emptying a cigarette and repacking it). Some local looking guys walked into the bar and had a word with the owner, who directed them to another bar down the beach. A couple of minutes later I take a cig out my packet and put it in my mouth, only to be grabbed from behind by a thai guy telling me he's a policeman and I'm smoking Ganja. Bear in mind that at this point the said thai girl was still making a (now slightly more covert) bad job of skinning up, so no one's smoked anything illegal at this point... given a couple more minutes we blatantly would have. We all tried to convince him it was just a cigarette, but he and his colleagues are quite determined to put the thai girl (who's unfortunately named Pooh), and I in the cells for the night. I got the impression that there might have been a "fine" we could have payed, but with the pay off equalling the equivalent of about £570 per copper, there being four of them and the banks being shut it wasn't really going to happen, so off we trot to the police station.

Woo!

One statement written in Thai (on a typewriter) later and I have an accumulation of filth stood around me demanding I sign. Yeah right, why don't I just walk up to the Bangkok Hilton and ask if they've got any rooms myself to save the pigs the petrol. Several mindgames later I'm still adamant that I'm not going to sign, using words like honour and honesty to emphasize my case. They decide a cell is the place for me. The cell wasn't too bad, that was until they put all the other male occupants from the other cells in mine. Trying to keep words like rape and murder out of my head I tried to get some sleep, but a concrete floor covered in biting ants made it a little tricky.

So morning arrives along with the boss man, the little boss man, the guy from the bar and my english mates. Everything official is being conducted by little boss man (Jiew) in THai, they interview me using Pooh, the girl that can't make joints, as interpreter then isolate me in another room. Jiew comes in and lo and behold can talk fluent english, he gets all the questioning out of the way, then sits staring into my eyes slowly tapping a finger on the desk for what seemed like an eternity before asking "you know Bangkok Hilton?", I replied that I did, to which Jiew promptly told me he thought I should rot there for my crimes. You get the picture. He starts explaining the bail procedure which I don't quite get so he hands me a ringing phone saying "english man... maybe he help you". Assuming I was talking to the embassy I reeled off the story of what had happened so far. The guy on the other end of the phone laughed and told me he was a bartender at the place where all the coppers hung out, but he'd see what he could do. Even asked me to come down for a beer after I got out the police station. Lovely chap was Rob. He spoke to Jiew and after that things were a little easier. Dragging the policeman that had taken me off the beach out of bed to tell him off in front of me might have been a little excesive, but you can't have it all your own way. Lots of other wierd stuff was talked about, england, my job (fixing computers, I couldn't be bothered to explain data over mobile networks), the boss man even came in and asked me to value a bottle of wine (?) at the time I was a stella man, so told him I wouldn't pay more than the value of it's equivalent volume in beer. I think they sussed that I was a waster travelling on a credit card with nothing to my name that wouldn't fit into a backpack. So what do they do? They rip up the statement, and write a new one, this one's more along the lines of "Crazy english man start fight in bar because he drink crazy whiskey" charge me 500 baht (about 7-8 quid at the time) and tell me I'm free to go. As I'm walking out the door wondering what just happened Jiew calls me back in and asks me to take a look at his laptop because it starts up slowly. Not wanting to mar our relationship I quickly disabled all that I could in startup and run away leaving Jiew with a satisfied smirk on his face.

I deffinately needed a beer after all that, it's now evening time and I've had about 2 hours sleep in the last 55ish.

The only thing keeping me very awake is the large amount of adrenaline that's still pumping through me. Lets go and see Rob, the nice man on the phone, he works in a bar.

Rob turned out to be a very nice guy, and we sank a couple of singhas as I told him what had happened after I spoke to him last. At this point he decided to inform me that Jiew the policeman was going to pop in for a couple of drinks, which he shortly does, announcing his presence with a big slap on my back and a shout of "HAHAHAHAHA! No Bangkok Hilton for you!" I bought him drinks all night, lost every game of pool and ended up getting on with him quite well considering. Turns out he used to be part of the tourist police on the Ko San Road. As we parted he gave me his card and a reassuring "If you have any problem, you call to me OK?" err... cheers.

On my way home that night I popped into the bar I'd been dragged out of previously to let the mad tequilla slammer drinking owner know I was OK. All he did was laugh when I turned up... but that was all he did anyway. Pooh and her freind were also there looking a bit downhearted so I stopped for a beer with them.
"what happened to that bag of Ganja, Pooh?"
"I bury in sand when police come"
A short excavation later and the bag is ours, we felt duty bound to cain the lot that night. Halfway through a J a guy with posture too good to be a holiday maker walks in and I feel my hackles rise. He says something to one of the girls, she turns to me and says, "This man soldier from Cambodia... he have very good paper" and shows me a packet of Zig Zag king skins. Brilliant, now we can get truly hammered. Keep the tequilla slammers coming please Bo.

With a sound like a chicken being ripped apart my b3ta cherry is no more... must have been the extreme length.

Girth varies upon stimualtion.

You love teh cock.
(ralphseviltwin, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 12:59, Reply)

DOOOOOWWWWWNNNNN!!!!
My home town - Harlow, in Essex - has some lovely cycle paths. About 12 summers ago, two of my friends and I had a charming little tradition. On the weekend I would cycle to the local town park - I was furthest away - and pick up my friends as I went. Once together the three of us would amble merrily along, stopping only to raid a nearly off-license. Back packs bulging with cans of K cider and various beers, we would sit on a hill near the pitch-n-putt area and drink, chat, and watch the sun go down.

The journey home was often a lot more wobbly than the journey out.

One time, I had waved goodbye to one friend and continued my merry way home. I got to Mill Lane, very very close to home, when I noticed a police car parked outside the entrance to the lane. I leapt off the bike and started pushing it along as I noticed the copper standing by the car. You've all spoken to a bobby whilst drunk, right?

"Evening orific... officer - what's happening?"
"Oh, we've had reports of a pervert in the playing fields down the lane, so we've got some officers checking it out."
"Can I go down the lane? My house is near the end..."
"Sure thing - but make sure you walk the bike, as you clearly have been doing so after so much to drink..."
"Of course, cun.. constable!"

Half way down the lane is a small side road leading to the playing fields. Happily pushing my bike along, I suddenly hear a voice yell "DOOOOOWWWWWNNNNN!!!!", and I turn to the right and see a German Shepherd flying at my head.

I have never moved so fast. I crouched down beside my bike, putting it between me and the dog, which actually managed to drop out of the air and lay down, growling at me. My eyes met the dogs through the frame of the bike, and I've never sobered up so fast.

The policeman came over and leashed his dog. I stood up, shaking like a leaf, and he said "Sorry, son, thought you were a pervert. Good job she'd only just started her leap. Hey, you're not going to ride that home, are you?". I just pointed down the lane and nodded, unable to speak for a moment.

"Ahh, on your way then, on your way..."
(kiwanotree Meh, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 22:17, Reply)

Traffic cone
A recent minor run-in with the law: I was walking (well, staggering would be more accurate) home with some mates after a fairly decent sesh, and we passed some roadworks. My mates did the only sensible thing, which was to take the biggest sort of traffic cone and put it on my head. Actually, it was big enough that it covered my shoulders too, and I couldn't see were I was going, but staggered on regardless.

A minute or two later, I hear my mates calling "watch out! it's the police! it's the police!" For some reason I decided the best course of action would be to cast off the cone, and run for it. Except that the police were in a car, and I'm not exactly the fastest runner. So after a couple of hundred yards, I'm puffed out, and just collapse on the pavement.

One of the policemen gets out of the car, and says: "Did you really think we were going to arrest you for having a traffic cone on your head?"
(P-Nuts, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 20:20, Reply)

Contemptous hacks
As a group of trainee journalists in Peterborough the early 90s, we spent a lot of time sitting in the magistrates' court practising our legal training.

One day, m'learned friend the prosecution was questioning plod about what happened when he stumbled across a dodgy pair breaking into a warehouse.

Plod gets out his notebook and says, in that deadpan, Mr Cholmondley-Warner voice, "I was proceeding in a westerly direction when I heard the phrase "Stone me, it's the Rozzers".

We never heard the rest of the story. All 11 of us pissed ourselves laughing and were escorted out of the building for being in contempt of court.
( Sausagegirl, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 17:41, Reply)

Dolphins
"Go now," I whispered to the dolphin, who looked happier to be free of his leather restraints. "Impart thyself unto the waves; frolick with thy brothers in the depths of yon briny ether; look back ye not, but look forth and seek that which shalt warm thy soul, for it lies there at the webbed feet of Neptune; find thy mate that thou might sow the seed of thy salty loins in Poseidon's vast and fertile garden, for our work today is done!"

My words were meant to comfort and inspire the creature, though it would surely struggle to pursue my directions in the confines of an indoor pool measuring only thirty feet by sixty, and twenty-five feet in depth.

I had endured a hard day training dolphins for a forthcoming BBC all-animal screen biopic titled 'Prince Philip: Damn Those Chinks!' I was excited about the project. The dolphins had an important scene drawing a carriage containing a pygmy hippo Prince Charles (to be voiced by Gary Cole from Midnight Caller) and a bluefin tuna Lady Diana (voiced by Meera Syal). I had trained the hippo the previous month and, once he had become accustomed to the tweed costumes (which tended to chafe somewhat), he really got into the swing of things. Unfortunately, I was unable to train the tuna (and the koala that was to play the titular role) as it is only in my contract to train aquatic mammals. (As a side note, whoever trained the koala did a sterling job; it achieved the Prince's winning smile perfectly.)

The dolphin squawked a short message to me before swimming to the other side of the pool. I translated the message as, "I love you with all my heart, but there is a policewoman behind you." I did not react at first. Instead I collected my thoughts. Policewoman, eh? This could be fun. I hatched a plan to seduce this woman of the law.

I pulled my trousers to my ankles and unleashed my manhood. I positioned myself at the edge of the pool and was about to pass waste fluids into the water when the female officer leaped forth with a small device in her hand. The apparatus was like a regular pair of handcuffs, but with a third, miniature cuff. She approached swiftly from behind, reaching between my legs to grab my member. She pulled it down between my thighs so that the foreskin rubbed against my anus. I reached behind with both hands to try and break her grip on my bulbous meat, but this was turned to her advantage. She cuffed my hands behind my back and then attached the third, miniature cuff around my shaft. I was left helpless, my hands behind my back and my length pulled tightly between my legs, separating my testes like a fleshy breakwater. I had not expected this to happen.

Laughing, my attacker then shackled my ankles and forced me into the pool where I had to learn to swim without the use of my hands. I picked up a new swimming technique from the dolphins that involved gyrating violently, and this served me well for the eighteen months that I was in there with them. I believe that this time spent living as one of the dolphins has brought us all closer together. I don't feel bitter for what that woman did. In a way she made me a better person. And a better dolphin. Ack! Ack!
(stusut79, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 11:56, Reply)

Unlucky mate
Until last year I lived in a nice town north of Liverpool called Formby. This leafy suburb had a problem with rowdy youths coming from dodgy parts of Liverpool, drinking in the parks and causing trouble.

The local constabulary were always on the lookout for out of town rogues, and if any kids were walking the streets they'd get stopped by the police and asked a series of questions, to determine if they were local.

This process backfired when a couple of my mates got stopped after going to the off licence late at night. The copper asked my mate James the usual questions. Unfortunately, his - completely true - answers sounded a little too 'made up'.

Copper: Where do you live?
James: Formby.
Copper: And what school do you go to?
James: Formby High.
Copper: Uh huh, and what street do you live on?
James: Er, Formby Street...
Copper: Get in the car.
(Fuiru Sting, where is thy death?, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 7:54, Reply)

My friend's dad, an officer in Fort Worth, Texas,
abuses his power in an entertaining and mostly harmless way. He once arrested his girlfriend and threw her in jail as part of an elaborate scheme to propose to her(she punched him before saying yes).

So anyhow, I was with said friend one day when she checked the voicemail on her phone. Her dad had left a message, as follows:
"Hey, you'll NEVER guess who I just arrested! (giggles, etc for about 5 seconds) A MIDGET! (bursts out laughing) He's so tiny! And he's MEXICAN! Oh my god, I wish I could take a picture! (yelling in background) He's obviously high or something and he keeps cursing at me in spanish..oh god I love it. So anyway, I'll call you later, love you, bye!"

And apparently he wouldn't stop talking about it for days.
( trintrin has jam for blood, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 20:52, Reply)

So old
A friend of mine was picked up by the fuzz.
Although it wasn't as bad as the time she was swung round by the tits.
(abv, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 19:28, Reply)

Uncle
My uncle, now departed this life, told this story every time he got pissed. Aged about 25 (that would be about 30 years ago), he was pulled over for speeding. Without saying a word, and being more than a little inebriated, he punched the copper out cold, put him back in his patrol car, and drove off. He never heard anything about it, having also taken the copper's notebook and giving his car a gook kicking.
(The Secret 7000 ...join us. www.secret7000.co.uk, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 15:57, Reply)

Too Many
So I'll start with the first real brush I had with the Police.

I was pulled when I was 15 drinking in a local pub?

"How old are you sonny?"
"15, err 18!"
"Which team do you support?"
"Newcastle"
"That accounts for your total lack of fucking brains then"

He let me off.....
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:16, Reply)