nothing better to do...
Me and an acomplice were accosted by the fuzz in leeds station for a most heinous crime. After several minutes of desperate drunken explaining we were allowed to go.

Our crime... clambering over the turnstiles to avoid paying 20p to offload some of the excess beer we'd drunk.
(Predatory Sock, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 12:00, Reply)

Lucky escape
In my younger and more vulnerable years I was unemployed and homeless for a while in the nasty sticky streets of Peterborough. I had trudged that warm September afternoon from one side of the city to the centre in search of some mates who might want to share in my harvest of mushrooms picked in the grotty school fields of Bretton. In my ill-fitting leather jacket, spikey hair and over-tight tie-dyed jeans, I suppose I looked the part for a bit of police harrassment.

Arriving at a mate's house I found no-one answering the door. I was also trying to get a room in this soon-to-be-condemned slum, so I spent a while knocking on the door, thinking it'd be helpful to get the landlord's number.

Now, this was back in the days when police used to wander around the town on foot, not in pairs, without anti-stab vests... One such bobby sidles up to me and says (I kid you not) "Ello, 'ello, what's all this then?"
I reply, "I'm knocking on this door, officer." Despite my uncouth appearance, I'm dreadfully middle class, so I'm *always* polite to the police.
"Do you not know that this is the house of a known drug dealer?"
Well, yes, I did know that, that was exactly the person who had told me there was a room available, while I was smoking a large amount of weed with him. However: "Really officer? I'm just trying to reach the landlord as I heard there was a room to rent."
The copper asked for my name and address - I was homeless, so I had no address to give him - and asked to check my pockets. He suggested we go somewhere more private to do this. I reminded him I was homeless and just trying to get a place to live. He called my name in to his control room to check for outstanding warrants. The usual, you know.
After a bit of humming and ha'ing, he asked me to turn out my pockets in the street while people milled about...

Okay - in my army bag I had a batch of some hundred magic mushrooms. I was worried at this point. Not TOO worried though, I knew the law, and I knew I'd not be convicted for this lot. A police cell might be better than doorways...

So anyway, I started emptying my pockets. First my leather jacket: two breast pockets, one inside, two hip pockets... I handed him my fags, lighter, fag packet containing scrunched up crips bags - he opened up each one and looked inside...

Then I handed him my used tissues from my shirt pocket, my chewing gum, address book, box of condoms, and a little plastic bag containing cig butts from my waistcoat pockets. He rummaged through the butts sniffing them, emptied out the condoms and checked the box... he was putting my skanky things on the pavement at his feet and we were starting to get a bit of a crowd...

Then I started on my jeans, handing him more crisp bags, another lighter, some leaflets from the unemployment office...

"Okay son, you can stop," he said, exasperated. He started handing me stuff back. I opened my army bag up and put everything in on top of my bag of magic mushrooms.

The policeman was very apologetic. Mentioned that I *had* been knocking on the door of a dealer's place and that I *did* look the type. I let it slide, staying as polite and as middle-class as my plummy accent can manage.
( no cake for the impuritay Patrick Stewart hasn't aged since, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 12:00, Reply)

I was at a "rave" in the mountains one evening
at about 9 in the morning I had put on my waterproof hiking gear and was lying on a picnic table a few hundred yards from the party, with my backpack as a pillow, smoking a joint
Like your friend and mine Craiiig Daaaaavid I "chilled on sunday"
anyway, these two cars roll up and a bunch of burly coppers bundle out.
"good evening officer" I said "there appears to a bit of a racket going on up there, dodgy looking characters about"
"That's what we're here for" says plod
"good good" I reply and the law marches across a small river, through the forest towards the blaring techno which I imagine can be heard at least a mile away
Myself, I rolled of the table, ninja'd my way to the car park, woke the designated driver and spirited ourselves away
( VampireMonkeyOnSpeed a super sexy sexual sex terrorist sex, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 11:59, Reply)

Terrorist
Some time back a bunch of us from Manchester decided to have a night out in Blackpool so we sparked up the old Transit Van and about 10 of piled in and headed down to Blackpool. When we got there, we drove around looking for a parking place and eventually swung into a Hotel carpark and started to jump out of the van.

Of course, things couldn't be that simple. from absolutely nowhere suited figures just suddenly appeared. With guns. Ooops!

Turns out it was the Tory Party Conference and a lot of Maggies lot were staying in the Hotel. As this was a year or so after the IRA tried to blow her up (you missed you bungling fools!!!) the police were a tad jumpy.

Anyway, so they questioned us briefly, searched the van and then told us to get the heap of junk out of their carpark.

So we did. Simon, the driver ran over the toes of one of them.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 11:55, Reply)

Fancy Dress
At a party with a bunch of Scousers - police came through the door - some scally shouts out - "Hey mate - it's not fancy dress you know" - they nicked him
(noggin, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 11:45, Reply)

Achtung!
My mate got hold of an old German stick grenade, Spanish Civil War vintage. Long story short, we "accidentally" let the thing off in some woods up near Henley.

There was this blue flashing light. Lots of them, in fact, and the cops had us cornered in a copse.

Thinking on our feet, we sold them some cock-and-bull story about a meteorite, and "there's a bloody great crater over there, officer" and we managed not to get arrested.

Instead, they called loads of scientists, who took samples and stuff and went away again, somehow corroborating our story.

The front page of the Henley Standard, quoting direct from the police blotter read: "Lads Meteor Scare", proving that the Thames Valley's finest will believe anything...

Length, girth, *cough* blog *cough*, ice cream van
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 11:44, Reply)

The police
My mate is a copper - he interviewed a woman for 10 minutes as a witness, to a domestic across the street. But didn't notice that her golden retriever dog had a harness, she was wearing unsual sunglasses in a very dark room and had in her possession a lot of folded white sticks - not exactly Morse...
(noggin, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 11:42, Reply)

we were driving home
from a pool game in walsall with a mate of mine eddie driving, he has just passed his test the week before and was the model of the perfect driver, never speeding, always indicating, you know the kind. Any way on coming through the one way system we are being followed by a police car. eddie turns to me and says "can we go left here?" due to the one way system i wasnt too sure, thus he precieded on right instead due to "better not, there is a police car behind us". 30 secs and 2 corners later we come to a screeching halt (no ABS in those older fiestas) due to him not noticing the red light from the most absurdly placed set of traffic lights known to man.

"eddie, is that police car still behind us?"

*cue blue falshing lights*

"guess thats a yes then"

*cue me sitting in a cold fiesta with no radio for another hour while he gets to wait in a nice warm volvo, till another police car comes long to hand them a bretaliser as they had run out. (but i guess that happens quite alot on a fri night in walsall)


xx kramit
(kramit http://lpjam.blogspot.com/ woo yay, blog spam, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 11:39, Reply)

Honest Guv
Several years ago myself and a couple of mates were on our way home from the pub when we were jumped by a couple of charvers. Long story short the fight was won but not before my mate took a nasty blow to the back of the head. Because of the amount of blood we presumed he'd been knifed, but it turns out the skin there is very thin and a good punch will result in someone looking like they've gone down on an abattoir. Not knowing this at the time however we called the police, who arrived promptly, and big upped the knife fight with the terrifying scum we'd just survived, adding bits here and embellishing bits there as you do when you're drunk.

The next day and a police officer is coming to interview me at my parents house. Of course by this point we've sobered up, talked it over and realised it was little more than a scuffle with a bit of blood. Not wanting to look like, frankly, total tits in front of the police we decide to stick to our story.

Picture the scene, I'm out the back chain smoking the nerves away when my father shouts 'They're here' after seeing the squad car drive past the window (we live in a cul-de-sac so he wasn't just passing by). I say right, walk inside just as the doorbell goes, let him in and take him into the front room where he starts taking my totally true and accurate statement.

There's just one slight problem. Despite my mother standing next to my father when he told me they had arrived, and despite seeing the police car herself going past the window, she presumed it was just a coincidence because she somehow didn't hear the doorbell. So as I start to tell the nice copper my version of events she happens to be in the next room ringing my brother to see how he is and tell him the exciting news of my fight. Very, very truthfully. Thanks to the walls being thin, every time there is a silence we can both clearly hear what she is saying and every word of it is contradicting the story I'm currently telling. I spent the next half an hour talking to the bewildered police officer in a voice loud enough to wake the dead in a vain attempt of drowning her out.

The result? After taking my statement the officer told me that they, strangely, didn't find a weapon but did find an interesting amount of drugs. With the phrase 'that kind of scum deserve everything they get' he winked at me and walked out the door. God bless the police. If only I could get them to rough up my stupid mother.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Thu 22 Sep 2005, 11:38, 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)

Oh so many.......
too many stories...

1. Used to go to college, and what with that being a bit cack really, myself and a few chums would go out at lunchtime for a quick doob to make the afternoon go a bit quicker. We werent even subtle about it, just walked into the car park and skinned it up and smoked it. This went on for quite some time (about 6 months) until the police were called and we got our asses hauled to jail.... only posession of 1 spliff but we still all got kicked out of college!

2. One night our rag tag bunch of hooligans decided it would be funny to get pissed in a local park/green space the put our trousers round our ankles and waddle round this HUGE bush in some kind of drunk/streaking olympic challenge. Unfortunately there is a road running next to the park and guess who drove past... my poor friend Karl hadn't seen the porkies arrive and was still waddling around with his todger out whilst me and another guy ran off and hid round the corner. We saw them questioning my poor friend and so whipped our kecks up and marched right up to the coppers with my hoody up loking very yob like i expect, then as i stood right next to them i pulled my hood down and in my poshest accent said, "good evening officer, is there a problem?" they laughed and told us to get lost.

3. Nicked 4 hub caps of a car when pissed, CuntStubble Bacon saw and nicked me for theft.....

4.Got stopped at 90mph by a FIT girl copper who would have definitely got it in that uniform... and she let me off cos i was really nice to her.

phew.

I'm a naughty boy...
(Jimmy Large Is huffing Jenkem on, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 11:34, Reply)

Rumbled by the rozzers
When I was 17 I was at a party when a rather amorous young man invited me outside “for a chat”. We ended up in the graveyard at the bottom of the road shagging ferociously. This despite the fact that it was mid-December, freezing cold and very muddy. (In my defence, I didn’t realise it was a graveyard at the time. We were kind of on the outskirts and it was dark.) After a few happy bouncy minutes, we were disturbed by a car pulling up alongside us, headlights glaring. It was a police car, with 4 coppers inside. All hanging out the window for a good look. I have never been so mortified in my life. Apparently one of the neighbours had spotted us and called 999 (a bit of an over reaction if you ask me) so they’d decided to come along and check it out (I have always wondered if it was really necessary for 4 of them to turn up!!) They threatened to arrest us for gross indecency – I almost died, my parents would have quite literally killed me. We hastily promised to get dressed and go back to the party, so they wound the windows up and started to drive away. As they pulled off one of them shouted out the window, “LUCKY BASTARD!!”

No apologies for length or girth, for as I recall there wasn't much of either!
(Mad McMad, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 11:32, Reply)

I helped a copper last Friday.
Which is a huge change for myself, as I'm the one normally being chased by the fuzz (I have criminal records on 2continents).
Anyhoos - Was a Friday, I'm at lunch and met up with a mate, walking from Hanover Sq to Regents St. I spot 2kids running along, shouting, and generally acting a little bit suspect. They stop, about turn and dive down a alleyway. Next thing we hear is a Meatwagon screaming round the corner, and rushing past us is a copper and a person in plain clothes.
They get to Regents St, start wildly looking about and look pretty confused. I ask them if they're looking for 2kids that I saw, they confirm it, and I point them on there way. We walk round and see the kids being thrown in the meatwagon.
Was almost inclined to walk up to them and taunt them that I was the one that dobbed them in.
The reason I met up with my mate? To give him some drugs for the weekend......
Criminals, don't be blatant, be sly.....
( -:Coop:-, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 11:31, Reply)

The joys of CID and Firearms...
My flatmates and I are all avid Airsoft* players and ran a smallish club ourselves. Thus we tended to have a lot of dirty hire guns to strip down and clean on a regular basis. Now the Airsoft guns themselves are pretty good 1:1 replicas of real firearms, way beyond most of the tat you see people moaning about on telly. Que me one evening sat in the living room, stripping and cleaning the ten MP5 replicas we have. All is progressing nicely, the guns are getting cleaner and lubed, I'm getting dirtier and lubed. Finally get everything ship shape when I hear a knock at the door.

On answering the door I'm confronted by a man who turns out to be a CID Officer. Turns out the flat of girls downstairs got broken into and had some stuff nicked and could he come in to ask a few questions. Fine says I as I gesture him into the living room, only to see his face fall and go very ashen. Turns out in my suprise to have a "real live policeman" on the doorstep I had forgotten about the armoury of weapons all neatly stacked across the living room. By this point I feel that there is a little bit of explaining to be done or else he's going to start walloping me with his ASP or something thinking he's about to be murdered by some zealous terrorist/criminal.

Thankfully calms down a bit and even gets into the spirit of the whole thing by picking one up and looking through the sights.

"Ahhh MP5!" says he, "workhorse of a gun you know, we use these."

* think paintball.**

** actually don't, to be a bit political the VCR Bill will kill off our sport so please visit saveairsoft.org
(mehmeh 0% witty, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 11:23, Reply)

A good friend of mine works for the constabulary
and one night, he his brother, his brother's mate and his brother's mates girlfriend went off for a trip to the local cinema, driven by said brother's mate. Part way there, mate and girlfriend pull out some not entirely 100% cigarettes and begin to smoke. The brother begins, "Can you put that out, my brother's in the car", to be told by the girlfriend, "Well, if he doesn't like it, he can f*cking get out and walk!", the reply of "It's not that, he's a police office" resulted in the offending articles vanishing out of the window so quickly and, so I'm told, one of the most carefully driven, sedate car journies in history.
( mooglemania Please disregard this sig., Thu 22 Sep 2005, 11:08, Reply)

Oh dear
Had a run-in with some young ne'er-do-wells at the end of my street a few months back; a bunch of kids hanging around near the pub started in on me for no clear reason, slapping me on the back and launching a few kicks. I took down the number of their car and phoned it in to the cops, who said they'd be round soon to take a statement.

Ah, I thought, hadn't quite thought about that, so I opened all the windows and embarked on a rapid and vigorous programme of ashtray emptying and putting stuff in drawers and cupboards. But when the cops arrived, I slowly realised that I'd forgotten about the small pile of human vertebrae and ribs* on one of my bookcases. The one that the police were standing right beside and eyeing with great interest.

*17th or 18th century, recovered from from the beach in Dunwich in East Anglia, rather than ripped from the backs of fresh corpses which I then dumped in the canal. Honest.
(Wong Fei-Hung - now with added flickr.com (see profile), Thu 22 Sep 2005, 11:02, Reply)

how to catch evildoers on the internet
Some years back the head of our national (Danish) cyber crime force gave a session on his job and on the different types of cyber crime that they had to deal with. Not too impressive, really ..

At the time, they had recently busted an international ring of paedophiles -- we had read about this in the papers -- and he gave us a bit of inside information about how they has managed to do this. Turns out that the paedos write mails to each other and one of them had made a typo in an e-mail address so that it appeared in the private mailbox of one of the policemen. With that kind of lead, it was easy to follow the IP address.

So how do they catch bank robbers, anyway? Sit around and wait for the robbers to accidentally stumble by?
(spinoza, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:51, 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)

A mate and I..
.. staggered out of a club a while back at 2am. Blind drunk and with no plan of how to get home. As we walked down the road a squad car pulled up. The copper said 'ello lads, you're out late'

It was a mate I used to work with who'd joined the force a few years back. He then proceeded to buddle us into the back of the car and give us a lift home at speeds of over 80mph though the villages.

Driving with one had, he turned to us and grinned 'I love being a copper'

Smug cunt.
(Cane: I love Sushi, Sobriety & Shotokan, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:35, Reply)

My Dear Old Mum
MDOM is a polite, middle class and retired ex-nurse who has never been in a police station in her life. Anyway, to cut a very long and very distressing story short (although much hilarity for other QOTW could come up some other time) she began suffering from hyper-mania and eventually it became too much for the family and she was sectioned under the mental health act.

Being quite a strong willed lady she refused to accept the section and steadfastly insisted on remaining in her arm chair knitting. Well, as two hours of gentle discussions with the social workers wasn't doing any good the private hospital expecting her (on BUPA - nice one BUPA) was getting a little annoyed so the nice social workers decided the only possible solution was to call the boys in Blue to persuade her into their van and take her there. Cue two squad cars and a van screaming up outside the house with sirens blazing and a full compiment of about 8 officers trudging into the kitchen and deciding what they would do. After discussions about her being non-violent and generally very polite one young Constable volunteered to go in and have a word. After taking off his helmet (to appear less threatening) he walked into the lounge to have a chat with mother. He seemed to be getting on quite well and they were having a lovely chat when he decided to pat her arm.....and then screamed

Well, in a flash that little old lady had kicked him at "full spac" strength straight in the privates calling him something that rhymes with twunt and dropping him like a pole-axed rabbit. To their credit the remaining 7 policemen piled into the lounge and politely restrained her with extreme prejudice into the back of their van and nee-naa'd her to the hosiptal.

Bloody funny with hind sight....... even funnier was the fact that they required me to sit in the van between them and her because "She is not likley to want to hurt a family member"........ scared? them? surely not.

Epilogue : Young Constable was fine, apparently the swelling went down eventually and he could still have kids, the charges of assaulting a police officer were dropped as she had already been sectioned and thus had diminished responsibility. Still....raise a glass to mother for being the only one in the family to kick down a copper and get away with it ! Not that I would ever condone that, no sir, fine bunch of people..... mostly
( Spackweasel - because weasels get Downs Syndrome too, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:33, Reply)

circa 1994, sitting
in a parked car, in a pub car park in swadlincote in my mums renault five, with three mates

filth turn up and search us, which basically meant rifling thru our roll up backy.

pig - do you have any wacky backy on you lads?

muppet mate - no, are you selling?

we got told to hop it.




more recently i ran thru richmond train station bound tightly in a large amount of gaffer tape past two rozzers, and they didnt even bat an eyelid.
(magictorch, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:32, Reply)

Cnut
Out with my mates to celebrate K getting her first job. She was the only one pissed.

So we all get into the car, and a man we shall call Barney, for that is his name, is driving- Citroen AX GTI, curry box on wheels. For once we only have 5 of us in it; it all could have been much worse if we'd done the usual with me and K sat on the boys' laps in the back.

Screaming round the roundabout at 50, swerve into the dual carriageway- and copper pulls out behind us (this could have been expected as police station is on the corner). Pulled over. Barney asked to step out of the car.

Police gave him a talking to about 'driving like a cnut' while we sat and cacked ourselves in the car, while K is sat there going 'shall I show them my smurf [happy meal toy]'.

Hilarious and also scary; Barney was the only one of us with a car and if my parents found out that I was out with dangerous drivers at 17 they would have stopped me going anywhere, ever.
(Clarabelle is reverting to type on, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:28, Reply)

Really?
Police turned up at the door because someone reported me for assault on her DOG.

What I really did was push it away with my foot 'cos it was my shitting in my garden, whilst the fat BITCH owner watched.

The police told me to turn the hose on it next time. So I did. The fat BITCH owner wasn't very happy.
(jellyfish, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:27, Reply)

I left The Police
and went solo.

Made a fortune singing about golden fields and stuff; have marathon tantric sex sessions with my ex-model wife too.
Beats being a copper i can tell you.

Regards,
Sting.
/hums...dee doo doo doo dee daa daa daa etc etc
(nappy rash, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:26, Reply)

absolutely trashed
on the way home from a gig in dover once. been on the white rum, had my hood up ( i was young - and besides - it was RAINING!) got pulled over by a meatmobile.
two porkies get out and start asking me the questions. the same questions. over and over again. then as soon as they asked what my latin grammar school motto meant - they let me go - under the pretence of "all grammar kids are fine". swines
(5ifty0, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:22, Reply)

The first time I spun my car….
In front of a 1 copper and 200 Chavs!!

This happened about 5 years ago. I was 18 and hadn’t been driving that long, it was my first real encounter with the police.

I am very ashamed to tell this story but it’s true so I will…


Late one Sunday night whilst driving through my old home town of Milton Keynes I was hailed down by pair of Chavs in a 205 GTI sitting, hazards blinking, in a bus stop. I wouldn’t normally pull over for Chavs in distress but being a fellow 205 GTI driver I felt a certain, “drivers camaraderie” with these Burberry wearing youngsters so I though I would give them the benefit of the doubt an see if I could lend a hand.

It turned out they where not broken down at all and were actually lost looking for the local Sunday night cruse (sitting in car parks eating McDonalds, comparing stereo systems and under body lighting is apparently a popular pastime in Milton Keynes). I was feeling quite charitable and also a little competitive so I offered to show these guys the way… if they could keep up. 10 roundabouts and some shoddy teenage attempted drifting later we arrived in the city centre not fair from the cruise “venue”.

It started to rain. I remember thinking to myself I better be a bit careful as the police are pretty notorious for pulling people over on Sundays. Driving through the centre we get to a mini-roundabout at the bottom of a hill, the rain was properly belting down now so I took the roundabout nice and slow… or so I thought!

About midway through the turn the backend totally derailed and I had the whole car sideways, being young and inexperienced I had no idea how to correct so I just hit the brakes, I managed a complete 360 and now sat with the arse end of my car up on the roundabout.

Looking out of my window I see 3 things:

To the left: The Burberry wearing Chavs I had previously been racing passing me very very slowing pissing themselves laughing (they even did two laps around the roundabout… bastards).

In front: Sitting in a lay-by facing me, a white unmarked Vauxhall Omega that had just become illuminated with flashing blue lights.

To the right: An entire car park full of about 200 Chavs and their respective “tuned” up wagons all turned to stare and laugh at the spoon who had just spun his car.

Oh the shame… it’s gets worse though. Now I have set the scene it’s time for my experience with the policeman. Bear in mind I had never dealt with these cunts before so I didn’t know what to expect. The officer steps out of his car and strolls towards me.

Officer: “Please move your vehicle down here next to mine sir!”

I obeyed and painfully scrapped my car off the roundabout the parked up in the lay-by trying to ignore the laughs and cheers from the car park crowd.

Officer: “So what happened there then?”

Me: “Well I…”

Officer: (shouting) “YOU WHERE GOING TOO FAST WERNT YOU!!!!!!”

Me: “But… the wet… slippery roundabout… cheap tyres….”

Officer: (still shouting) “Do I look stupid to you! That was DANGOUROUS DRIVING!”

The conversation… well should I say condescension continued for a whilst he checked every inch of my car, tyres, tax, flashlight in the boot, under the seats, the works.

He ordered me over and told me so sit in the passenger seat of his car, he sat in the driver’s seat and pressed a few buttons on the centre console, out folded a mini-tv from the top of the dash. He played with the controls for a while longer and a frozen image my car, mid spin appeared on the screen. I couldn’t believe it… not content with giving me a thorough telling off in front a crowd he now made me watch… in perfect clarity I might add… the stupid expression on my face, frame by frame as I lost control and spun. He even zoomed right in!

The wired thing was despite being scared of a dangerous driving conviction and points on my (then clean) licence I was actually starting to find the whole thing quite amusing. I am not sure if it was jus the shock\embracement of the situation but at this point I think I actually grew some bollocks and asked the copper if he has my speed registered. He said he didn’t. I then asked (with a shaky voice) if he had any evidence that I was going too fast and it wasn’t just a slippery road.

“Go!” He said

“What?!” I asked

Copper: “Go…. Leave! If I see you around here again I will be behind you, and I will catch you speeding…. And I will arrest you… now go and stop wasting my time!”

And that was it… I drove off… my first experience with the police.
(Minty Hit, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:18, 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)

Pathetic
isn't it?

I once got on the Tube in London. Picked up a copy of the Metro. And wasn't shot repeatedly by armed officers.

I call that a result.

(As the b3ta trend appears to be ditching length jokes in favour of blog puffs, here's mine: Confessions of a ninja of the genus Ailurus.)
( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:16, Reply)