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This is a question The Police

Sitting in my local pub late one night enjoying the landlord's flexible idea of what constitutes his licencing hours, a bunch of drunk blokes in raincoats burst in. Requesting to be served, one shouted at the barman "It's alright - we're not coppers!"

They were spitting images of Lt. Columbo to a man. The barman laughed them out of the pub.

(, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:12)
Pages: Latest, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, ... 1

This question is now closed.

In my student years I almost got caught having a sly old Jimmy Riddle in the middle of Liverpool City Centre. Luckily I'd just finished and when the police officer shouted down the dark alley which was a complete dead end 'What are you doing?' I just said 'Eating my chips' and he drove off.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 15:37, Reply)
conspiracy theory
Does anyone else think that perhaps its all part of B3ta's "grand plan" to select extreme mediocre QOTW's for the past 2 weeks running in the hope that we'll check out the other excellent features on B3ta?

I know I've now become an 'Image Challenge' lurker which has provided far more entertainment of late.


So err, police story... the one time in my life that I wasn't wearing a seat-belt we got pulled over and I vomited in the gutter. And I was fined. The end.

Y'see, these stories just aint that exciting. Besides, Coppers are alright - someone's gotta do it.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 14:31, Reply)
Greenwich Park Police Fun
One time I was with my Finnish mates getting shitfaced in Greenwich park for the May Day holiday (ask any Finn about "Vappu" and they'll give you a knowing look).

Anyways, after quite a bit of beer, gin and also half a bottle of champagne a bunch a chavs turn up and ask us things like "Gis some of ya beer mate?" to which we replied in the negative (i.e. "fuck off"...there were about 15 of us, some were pro ice-hockey players so we could act as hard as we liked).

So, chavs duly get bored at the lack of generousity from us and bugger off, leaving us to enjoy what was left of the booze and bask in the view of the Naval College.

Suddenly one of the girls with us (Anu) says "my mobile's gone missing". Putting 2 and 2 together me and my mate get up and start to leg it after the chavs (who by now were bloody miles away...). We, or rather I managed to grab one just outside Blackheath gate (if you know Greenwich park..its miles away from the Naval Museum where we were sitting), much to the joy of a local cricket club who's pitch the chavs had just walked over whilst they were playing.

Putting the little scrote in an armlock I march him back into the park to "meet" my hockey-playing mates, but before I got back I spotted a Royal Parks police car approaching and flag 'em down.

After explaining the situation to the copper (the kid was now slammed in the back seat, positively bricking it)and after a quick drive to unsuccessfully find scrote's mates I get dropped back in the park.

Copper says that he can't actually "do" anything as we didn't specifically see who took the phone, so I say "fair enough...can you just make sure that he'll think twice about nicking stuff in the future" to which Mr. Plod replies "oh, yes!!" (with a big shit-eating grin on his face).

I start walking back to meet my mates and as I'm passing the Royal Observatory, the adrenaline of the chase wears off and the mix of alcohol in my gut suddenly makes a reappearance..I promptly throw up infront of fecking LOADS of tourists who didn't seem too impressed. At this point I'm well embarrassed and trying unsuccessfully to not continue emptying my stomach.

So, I'm totally fecked off, knackered and almost dying with shame and finally catch up with the mates in the Trafalgar pub.

I told them all about what had happened to which one replies...

"Anu hasn't lost her phone...she gave it to me in case she lost it cos she was so pissed!".

Needless to say I was NOT impressed- especially seeing that I left my coat in the cop car and had to go to the cop shop the next day to pick it up feeling rather sorry for the kid and wondering what the copper did to him.

Cherry...popped...length....long (sorry)
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 14:02, Reply)
Another one
Driving home one night form the pub (sober) its was dead. So i come out of a 40 zone and carry on doin 40- straight passed a cop car coming out of a side street. He was ob bored and had nowt to do as i slowed down to 30 (didnt use brakes as that is ob) but he followed me. I thought- its 11.30 on a mon night-its dead and i want to get home FFS so increased grad to 40. After bout a mile a POLice van pulls out in front of me and then his lights and the following coppers lights go on and the van slows down- FFS 2 meat wagons to stop a un chavved up Corsa doin 40 at the dead of night- WANKERS!!!!!!! got the usual- is this your car, im going to give you tips on driving (r u really you patronising twat?? thanks for those) blah blah blah and was sent on my merry way with producer (as he had no readout/record of my speed apparently). Wot a cunty McKnob Cunt
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 13:42, Reply)
The London Met
caught me weeing against St Pauls. I had no idea what it was because the cathedral is very big and I was very close up. They forgave me but God never has.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 13:42, Reply)
The benefits of the WPC
Years ago, having just passed my driving test, I was treating my brother to a demonstration of my new driving skills. I owned a maroon Vauxhall Chevette (The Chevy, or The Vette), which had a gold pin stripe down the side.
Having negotiated a roundabout with supreme aplomb,and in a legal manner, I noticed a Police Vehicle behind us. Said vehicle then proceeded to fire up the 'Blues and Two's' and pull us over. One Male PC, one rather cute, blonde WPC. I, as the driver was asked to 'step out of the vehicle' by the cute WPC. (I think she was new). She asked to see my license, asked the registration of the car etc, while the male PC asked my brother some questions at the back of the car. As the male PC then approached me, having finished grilling my brother, the WPC looked down and spotted the wheels on the Chevy. 'Those look like VERY expensive wheels! How can you afford wheels like that on a car like this?' Both me and my brother burst out laughing, which upset her a tad. But not as much as my comment 'They are £10 Halfords plastic wheel covers, sprayed gold'. Male PC went very bright red, bundled the cutie into the Police Car, and left us with the parting shot of 'Yeah, just make sure you don't do that, errrr, thing, again!'

Never did find out why we were pulled in the first place.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 13:12, Reply)
Fascist Pigs
Once, when I was considerably younger than the 18 years required of me by the law to enjoy a couple of light ales in my local drinking establishment, we had heard there was to be a drugs raid (If you wanted drugs in Derbyshire-Matlock was THE place to go-and the pub wasT HE place to go to in Matlock-apparently). No-one really beleived this as you wouldn't think we should know about it. Cue one night, I am enjoying one of previously mentioned light ales surrounded by frineds, when in burst the drug squad, with HUGE dogs screaming at us to put our hands on our heads.

Before we new it, I and the rest of the group were in the back of a police van and off to the local station, where we are all strip searched by the fascist pigs. This in itself wasn't too bad-as we were all pretty spannered at this point.

It was, however not quite so funny, when I am half naked in front of two policewomen-bending over so they can get a look up my lettuce-and ask me what A Levels I was taking-I mean WTF????!!! Twunts.

Never really like the pollice after that. Then we discovered that the landlord had put our names on the list of people he suspected of taking drugs so he wouldn't get done for underage drinking. He was a twunt as well-but the pub is only frequented by old men with body odour and drinking problems.

Aplogies are for the lower classes (sorry-just finished reading last weeks QOTW)
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 13:09, Reply)
New York Cops
A friend of mine (IT consultant for a german bank) was with his girlfriend and they took the subway. Being a gentleman, when she forgot her pass he lent her his, and skipped the barrier. In front of two doughnut munching cops. Who bust him.

They asked him for ID and being British, only has his passport. Which is in his hotel room.

They give the girlfriend 20 minutes to get the passport, saying that otherwise they will book him and take him down the station.

22 minutes later, a very puffed out girlfriend arrives with passport to find them writing the ticket, and leading him away. They put him in the 'pen' at the local cop shop with all the other scum of New York.

Whilst he got a lot of stares, the other 22 occupants were actually not too bad - being gang members, theives, robbers, junkies, alcoholics, and the rest of the dregs of society. But they had a single toilet to share in the middle of the pen and it was not fun. Especially when they put a psycho in with the bunch, who then went wild - think Begbie on coke - lashing out at anyone and everyone, until the cops put the nutter in solitary.

Thing is, he was arrested on Friday p.m. before a Bank Holiday. 72 hours later on the Tuesday, he was finally dragged before the judge who to his credit apologised for the ordeal before ordering his immediate release.

72+ hours in a holding pen in New York for not having a subway ticket. I think British coppers are just fine in comparison.

Apologies for length. (add joke as required)
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 12:52, Reply)
I shot the sheriff...
... But I swear it was in self defense.

Actually, for my best cop story, I refer you to QOTW from months ago about being on TV.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 12:17, Reply)
Greek toilet coppers = bastards
In the halcyon days of my youth, a group of us went on a lads holiday to Malia. Now, when you're 18 and in a place full of drunk Brits, pretty much anything goes, so you'd think that the local bacon would be used to people pissing up lanes and not mind that much. Wrong. My mate went for a pish up a lane, only for 2 - count 'em - 2 Greek cop motors to come flying up. 4 rozzers got out of each, ran up the lane with guns/torches/batons pointed whilst shouting in Greek, a language he is NOT fluent in. He was trying to finish pissing and zip up in a panic when he apparently failed to comply with whatever they were shouting. He was whacked across the back of the knees and then his lower back by a baton-wielding rozzer, all whilst the other 7 still had their guns pointed at him. One of us tried remonstrating with them only to be shoved away and have a gun pointed right in his face!! So he's taken to the back of one of the cars where miraculously they start speaking English and shout at him about using the public conveniences supplied for the likes of 'us'!! He was let go with 2 great massive bruises on his back and a knee which to this day is still a bit fucked, the injury at the time ruining a burgeoning rugby career. A slight over reaction? Makes British coppers (even Strathclydes finest) looks positively fucking saintly.

I got caught pissing in the doorway of Bargain Books in Glasgow and all that happend to me was I was taken away by the scruff of the neck by two uniform cops and locked in the local contabulary without so much as a word. In the morning I was told to 'fuck off home and never do it again', and that was that. Fair enough!
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 11:51, Reply)
I got in trouble with the police again last night
I was walking home from the station (sober) and my friend and I came across a row of lorries in a layby. We assumed they were abandonded and went to check them out. We found that the drivers were asleep inside, so we left. A minute later, a police car appeared and got us to the other side of the road for 'a little chat'. They threatened to arrest us, though we'd done nothing wrong. Fucking busybodies.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 11:28, Reply)
my mate al...er mark, yes mark!
i have a mate, whos a lovely traffic officer, who doesnt persecute innocent car owners at all, who doesnt own and drive a knackered citroen with 3 (count the feckers) bald tyres,who definately hasnt tasered himself twice while in pursuit of criminals, and on no account turned up for work rough as a badgers arse,whilst having a piss wondering when they put mirrors in front of the urinals realised he was pissing in the sink, then jumps into his jam sandwich to definately not "catch some arseholes"

he also got a bollocking as b4 firing the taser gun into some poor criminal, youve got to shout "TASER TASER",as a warning, his partner in crime does this, and my mate at the top off his voice in the most campest of accents, follows up with "HIGH VOLTAGE WHEN WE TOUCH WHEN WE KISS" behind him, some member of the public decided electric six's rendition was better and duly reported him!

apart from that hes a good bloke, apart from being a traffic twat of course

length and girth of driving license
- 9 points
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 11:05, Reply)
Stopped on the way home from a pissup once
Walked home from town after drinking alot, including my taxi money (cmon, we've all done this at least once in our lives). Got within 200 yards of my house, still swaying in the correct general direction (as I is still well drunk, even after a 2 mile walk home at 1 in the morning), and a plain dark blue Sierra pulls up in front of me. 2 people get out, one of them's some grumpy bloke, and the other is some fit bird, who'se currently walking towards me. I'm drunkedly thinking hello, my luck's in here when she pulls out her police badge.

"Hi, I'm DI Fitbird (no idead what the name is), can you help us out please?"

"Yeah, sure" I say, trying to stand straight, "wassup?"

"We've had reports that there have been some break-in's in the area, and we need to find this address. Can you tell us where that is please?"

Now this estate where I used to live was basically a postman's nightmare. A square estate with multiple flats in the middle and lines of semi-detatched houses forming a border around the outside. Hell, first time in the area I ended up getting lost and turning up where I started an hour later. And now they ask me for directions while I'm pissed.

"I'm sorry luv, but you'll be better off using the map behind you on that wall" I say pointing at it "but I've been living here for years and I still need to use it myself."

The bloke copper (who we'll call DI Cunt) takes offense to this. So much so that I can clearly see his stress and veins start popping on his neck. He growls "Don't mess us around or I'll nick you where you stand". I look at him and am just about to tell him to fuck right off when I notice that DI Fitbird beat me to it and gave him a right mouthful lol. After he went quiet and looked rather sheepish, me and the DI looked at the streetmap and found the house that they were looking for.

As they walked away all I could here was words from her like "do that again and I promise that you'll be fucking demoted", much to my amusement.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 11:00, Reply)
To the FAKE I have run out of coke, I bow down to a comedy genius. Previous post deleted, and I consider myself well and truly gullible :)
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 10:00, Reply)
Nice one and Nasty one
Though not a model citizen, I'm pretty much law-abiding.

But if I ever end up being interrogated, I'd rather have two nice interrogators.

Oh, and Earl Grey, if you have it.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 9:59, Reply)
2 quick ones
1. myself and 4 mates were pulled over for "suspected consumption of cannabis" when we were 18. The first cop made us get out of the car to take our names and addresses. When the second cop walked up, a big mean bastard, one of my mates says "oh, hi Robert". The big bastard gave us a warning and told us to fuck off, much to the surprise of us and his fellow officer. We found out later that this mean, married father of 3 was getting regular blowjobs from my mate's 17 year old younger brother.

2. I went to a friend's wedding in 1986 and spent an hour, during the reception, listening to a bloke going on about the evils of cannabis and how drug dealers should face capital punishment.
9 months later the same bloke was arrested for one of the largest growing and trafficking operations in the state's history.
By the way, his name was Barry Moyse and he was a chief inspector in the South Australian Police Force, Head of the drug squad and ran Operation NOAH (a report a dealer phone in).
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 2:56, Reply)
Lengthy, sorry
Actually, no. I'll cut it down.

Acquaintance of mine. I'll not say 'friend' because that would mark me as a liar. Used to piss me off no end. Always used to say he 'hated the pigs'. So it was a surprise when he said he was going to join them, and then he could live his life properly (it being his first ever proper job, the parent-draining vampire, that he was).

So. This 'chum' started to go through the full entrance-exam-test-interview scenario - and all this time, he used to say 'I just need to get fit if I'm going to join the pigs' - thinking, as he was, that the final physical exam would be the clincher. "NO" we cried, wanting him to join the police and get out of our lives, "you need to get a job, do voluntary work or join the specials, they'll laugh at you if your only experience is cataloguing your extensive manga collection" "Oh no," said he, knowing better than the likes of us, with jobs and the like, "Oh no... The real pigs hate the specials"

Anyhow. Surprisingly enough, over the course of what? A year? He managed to get through all of the home-visits, exams (god alone knows how) and background checks - and the physical exam - for which, admirably, he had been preparing day and night - loomed.

Suddenly, the poor 'mug' fell ill with a severe viral infection that laid him low for a month. All of his good works ruined. So much so that weedy old me deposited him in the hedge for the first time in my life. And it looked like his physical exam was a bridge too far.


Wonder of wonders, he passed.

And then, all that was left was the final interview with some senior policeman. Due in about a month or so. So again, feeling charitable we cried "you need to get a job, do voluntary work or join the specials, they'll laugh at you if your only experience is cataloguing your extensive manga collection" and again he poo-pooed us "Oh no. The real pigs hate the specials."

And the day dawned of his interview. Kindly we briefed him on interview techniques.

He emerged, blinking from the meeting...

"What happened?" We demanded...

"Oh, they asked what I'd been doing for the last six months. I said I'd been getting fit.."


"Then they asked why I hadn't joined the specials. I said that the real police don't like them."

He didn't get the job.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 2:36, Reply)
I have a friend who was a matador. I would often trail along on his fights in Mexico. One weekend we had a large group travel down to watch the fight and so were in two cars. The arena was a city new to all of us and a fun time was not had by any due to a variety of one problem after another. After the fight all we wanted to do was to get back to the states and so all of the blood and gore splattered gear was thrown in the trunk of one car and we drove that night back up to Monterrey, grabbed a few hours sleep, then woke early to complete the trip.

We were in two vehicles. I was in the lead. We pass through the border crossing with no problems and pull to the side to await the second car with its trunk full of bloody suits of lights, capes, and swords. The second car was not waived through. The officer was having a long conversation with them.

Then the officer asked them to get out of the car.

At this point we couldn't decide whether to save ourselves and leave the scene or try and go back and vouch for them.

The officer led them around the back of the car to the trunk. That made one decision easy. No way were we driving back there. The trunk was opened. We watched, frozen with fear. They were on their way to jail on suspicion of murder. The car hid what was happening. After a very long time the three of them walked from behind the car, the officer shook hands with my friend, then they got in the car and started driving.

We went around a corner until we were out of eyesight then forced the other car off the road, physically pulled the occupants out of the car and demanded to know what happened and how the h*ll they talked their way out of what was in the trunk.

It wound up the officer was a bullfighting affianado, knew who my friend was, and was about to have an orgasm at the thought of actually being able to touch the cape still wet with the bull's blood.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 1:43, Reply)
My bro's a copper
and in their defence they have to deal with alot of shit. Last week my bro raided the house of a guy who had been threatening people with a sword. He had to stick his head in to the attic to see if he was hiding in there.

I know I wouldn't, would you?

Mind you I've had drunks and smack heads threaten and throw up on me, working with the public sucks.

P.S. I have run out of coke if your a cooper you're a cunt if not your still a cunt.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 0:57, Reply)
April 11 last year
So two of my mates have birthdays on consecutive days, April 11 and 12. The wierd thing is that they are the best of friends and are highly reminiscent of Beavis and Butt-Head. Anyway, on to the story. We decide to celebrate that we should go out to the pub and get pissed on the 11th. Being the only person I know at the time that could drive, I agreed to not drink so I could drive two people back to Kidlington. After we have been to the pub we all go an get in my car, me, the two that I'm taking home, and the two guys who's birthdays we are celebrating. Also, amongst the drunken fun, another mate starts jumping on my car and wiping the mayonaise side of his burger bun on my windows, then procedes to get in. We drive round Bicester market square and back to the pub and I let him out. Then there's a van behind me. Aw crap, police. So my mate gets out and pisses off with haste, and I am left to chat to the fuzz. I've had two drinks in the course of the night, but the second was a good hour before this incident, and I know I am way under the limit. The police guy that has pulled me over says he can smell alcohol on my breath, and procedes to call for a car that is carrying a brethaliser. He says to me: "Blow into this tube. It'll beep when you have to stop but I'll tell you when to stop as well" I start blowing. "That's good" says the officer. So I igure I missed the beep, and stop blowing. "Okay," says the officer, "I actually meant that you are doing well". Now, I figure I'm 18 and I'm not dead from suffocation yet, of course I'm doing well. But I'm also sensible so I don't point this out to him. Anyway, I re-take the test and pass, the guy gives me a producer (for an overloaded car) and lets me go.

About 3 hours later, on the 12th now, me and the two guys who's birthdays we were celebrating were sitting in a field. We had got one of my mates' old school stuff and were burning it, seeing how it was just taking up room in his bedrom. I've parked my car on the side of the road and we're sitting there with a nice fire going behind some trees. My mate, who's birthday it now is, decides it would be funny to burn his boxers, and so procedes to take them off. Then a van comes by. We can't see it fully because of the trees, but it stops on the road by where we are, reverses a bit, then drives off. It suddenly clicks that it's probably the police, and they have probably just gone to check out my car, which is a short distance away. So we run the other way. Of course, the lack of wheeles means that we are slower than they are, which ultimatly means we get caught. Suprise!! It's the exact same van, with the same officers in, from 3 hours before. I mean, when the police catch you making fires on private property they don't tend to be happy, but when they've not long seen you for breaking driving laws, they are less forgiving. So they call for a backup car, because there's seven of them and three of us, and we are obviously out of hand and hard to control (note sarcasm). They start taking down my details and one of my mates' details, and they search my other mate. It's great that they have so much faith in our honesty, they took my friend's mobile number down because his house phone was disconnected because he was moving, then the guy who was taking the details went to one of the others "Can you just call this number because I don't belie...I want to check it's right."

Anyway, as I mentioned, one of my friends was going to burn his boxers. Well, he never got the chance, and so when we ran he hid them in his jacket. For the last couple of years, we have been calling this guy Random as a nickname, even before this incident. He was the guy who got searched. This is a great example of why. He has so much shite in his pockets. Screws, rubber bands, odd shaped bits of metal, a ruler, just crap that no one would ever carry around. One of my favourites was the afformentioned boxers. Boxer shorts are one of the last things the police would expect to find in someone's pocket, and this was made even funnyer by thecomment that followed from Random: "You can smell them if you like". He also carrys a pen shaped like a piece of shit around, which he calls his "turd pen". When the officer pulled this out he responded: "It's not real, you can put it in your mouth if you like". At this point there are nine police officers, one searching Random and trying to keep a straight face, and the other eight pissing themselves with laughter. I swear, the only reason they let us go scot free was because he was just so damn funny while being searched.

After this we went out in my car and parked on a layby on the A34 between Bicester and Kidlington and slept there, for no reason other than the other guys didnt want to go home for another 12 hours. I'm not sure why, but it was funny so I went along with it.

I still haven't ever actually been convicted of anything or taken in for anything.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 0:53, Reply)
nicked while writing this!!!
I'm a photogrpaher working for a large agency, and have just finished shooting pics of soap stars (i use the term VERY loosely) at the national soap awards. to send the pics to the agency i take my laptop inot the middle of golders green high st where someone has kindly provided an open wi-fi connection. been doing this for weeks on end now...
tonight, not half an hour ago, two cops pull up behind me and ask what i'm doing
"using a computer" i answered (they're sometimes not too bright). as i continued to explain exactly what i was doing- with the evidence before me - hundreds of pics of d-list celebs in ball gowns etc- and a sheet to match names to faces, they tell me that every security cam in the road is watching me. They think i'm a terrorist with mug-shots of targets! after they watch me for a few moments merrily carrying on with my work, they see that i'm not bullshitting, warn me to watch my computer doesnt get nicked and off they go... To be honest, in a place like this (very high security due to the large jewish population), i'm amazed it took them this many weeks to notice me...
and if u ever see a guy on a laptop on the side of golders high road late at night... wave to me!
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 0:01, Reply)
not police but.......
bouncers! Aren't they just wannabe polis? I've never been in trouble with the polis but i've had many an altercation with a bouncer, does that count?

Well anyway, Glasgow bouncers are utter fuckpigs - can any other towns beat this? I would share some of my anecdotes but each time i argued with a bouncer i was blind pished so can't really remember what went on....
(, Mon 26 Sep 2005, 22:54, Reply)
Boxing day, 2002
I was on my way to my friends house, and was pulled over for expired tags. Fair enough. Officer asks if he can check my car, of course I say yes. Now, although I'm a smoker, I'd never used the ashtray (had the car a couple of weeks is all).
The officer asked what the brown bottle of liquid was in the ashtray, at which point I told him I didn't know. He started getting a bit heavy with me "Tell me what it is, or I'll have you arrested for possession". I explained that I don't take drugs, and I had absolutely no idea what was in the bottle in the ashtray.
So he handcuffed me, sat me on the kerb (of a very busy street) and called out the mobile drug squad.
By this point I was bricking it, as I knew the previous owner smoked pot at the very least.
After about 10 minutes of my car being thoroughly searched and a drug test being done on the liquid in the bottle, I hear laughter coming from the cops (by this point there's 5 squad cars as well as the drug unit).
Turns out it was air freshener! The officer let me off the expired tags ticket and was VERY red-faced and apologetic.
(, Mon 26 Sep 2005, 21:23, Reply)
police cunts
i was in borehamwood on saturday nite, sometimes known as bnp town but thats a different matter. anyways id had quite allot to drink and i was walkin to a mates house with a can of red stripe for a bit of refreshment on the walk. some wankey skinhead copper comes up to moi and says in a wankey copper accent "this is a booze free zone" so i goes "ok mate just a sec" he grabs the can out of my hand whilst im tryin to down my beer and soaks me. so i get out my bayonet and gut the cunt eat his heart, lungs and other assorted organs then rape his bloddy carcus. then go get some more beer. and on thursday i got taken home by the police after some cunt called em cause i was making a scene after way to much beer on my birthday
(, Mon 26 Sep 2005, 21:02, Reply)
...ah - point taken. Consider (and now observe) my previous rants deleted and on a personal note, way to fish-hook me ihaverunoutofcoke, you git :)
(, Mon 26 Sep 2005, 21:01, Reply)
has anyone actually
bothered to look at i have run out of coke's profile?


well then.....
(, Mon 26 Sep 2005, 20:55, Reply)
The Police
I think they're bloody wonderful. The best police force in the world, ours. Bravo the Police!

I got arrested once, in Soho. It was "disorderly whilst drunk". At first I was alarmed by the fact they thought it would take five of them to bundle me (weedy, vaguely effeminate) out, but then my confidence grew and I abused each one of them dreadfully, calling them all sorts of things. "You disgusting, revolting, ugly, steatopygian, unctious turd of odium," I said to one. May not have said steatopygian, I forget. "Take your hands off me this instant you fucking c***ing slimy festering grunting pig," I said to another, and so on and so on and so forth.

In every other country in the world, The Netherlands included, I would, as a mere entree to the feast of violence that nature dictates must be brought to bare on a drunk who is abusive to a cop, have been beaten black and blue. At the very, very, meagrest and scantest, most tinysome least.

But was I? Did they? Not a bit of it. Not even slightly. Not even a hint. They locked me in a cell, brought me water when I banged on the grill, called out a psychiatrist when I said I'd throw myself off Westminster bridge if they released me (it was four in the morning by this time), and on booking me in, indulged my request for a phone call. I called a friend who had witnessed this all and was waiting in the reception area; we gossiped for fifteen minutes, as if nothing had happened. No book was thrown: no charge was brought; I was paraded before no snivelling PLMC magistrate. At six thirty in the morning I was set free to roam home.

I really must hand it to the police. Restraint personified.
(, Mon 26 Sep 2005, 20:20, Reply)
Not sure it's funny exactly
But the first time I sped at over a hundred mph, I got pulled over.

I'd been stuck behind three lanes of lorries trundling along at about fifty. Finally, the fast lane clears, and it's peddle-to-the-metal. Got up to about 120 getting past all the slow bastards. Then realised my exit was coming, and had to stamp on the brakes fairly sharpish if I was going to make the exit (I wasn't that familiar with that end of the M27).

Then the flashing lights come on. "Do you know why you've been pulled over sir?" "Yes." Return to the unmarked police car, look at the Video. "You've were travelling at 87 mph." Result. I'll take three points and a forty quid fine as opposed to an instant ban, thankyou very much...

These days I only speed when necessary. I.e. every single day, but I've made a point of never going over 100 again.
(, Mon 26 Sep 2005, 19:48, Reply)
Impersonating a member of the Police Force
Interesting fact, Section 90, Sub Section 1 of the Police Act 1996 states the maximum sentence that can be imposed in a magistrates court is 6 months.

I am however faintly impressed that I have my very first online impersonator.
(, Mon 26 Sep 2005, 18:30, Reply)
Stuttering Freak
On my third day into a nine month long trip travelling in the States this happens.....walking up Santa Monica Boulevard on a pedestrianised bit, and walked out past a red signal to cross a road.

Whistle blows and a big (six foot five if he was an inch), african american policeman calls us over....

"J-j-j-j-j-ust what d-d-d-d-do you boys think you're d-d-d-doing crossing against the l-l-l-lights??"

US: - sorry officer, did not realise it was against the law, we're from New Zealand and are a bit naive to the ways over here..."

Him: "W-w-w-well you better acquaint yourselves with the l-l-l-aw of the l-l-l-and or I'll give y'all a c-c-c-c-itation..."

We were doubled over with laughter as we walked away and my mate turned around and yelled over the traffic...."F-f-f-f-freeze!!"
(, Mon 26 Sep 2005, 18:03, Reply)

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