Ahh the Fuzz, the rozzers etc etc
i was once reported dead, god knows why!
to prove that you are alive all you need to do is phone the local cop shop and if memory serves:

ME: "Hello, i've been reported dead and i was told to call to tell you that i'm not"

OFFICER: "Thank you for phoning and letting us know, what's your name?"

ME: " INSERT NAME HERE "

OFFICER: "Ok i will make a note and inform the correct people.."

So the phone call ends... i could have got my best friend to phone.
A week later a letter arrives, thanking me for phoning so promptly

WTF?
(ntmb, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 17:39, 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)

Police
The Police are just like the vast majority of the population,

Small-minded sadistic twunts.
(sterlingsmithe, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 17:27, Reply)

The beauty
The officer vomited thick, black blood as I twisted the knife. I felt the warmth of his innards against my right hand and forearm. Had they not been the innards of a policeman, I would most likely have vomited myself. I relaxed my left arm, which had previously been supporting the majority of his bulk, and his twitching frame fell to the cold, tiled floor. In doing so his body slid from the length of the warm blade and I remained standing over him, knife in hand, like a chimp with a machete.

Blood, saliva and vomit gargled in his throat as he struggled to breathe. He stared up at me with bulging eyes as I unzipped my trousers. I urinated on my hands to rid them of the filthy blood with my cleansing golden feculence. I then offered my fingers to his nose so that he could take in the full aroma, but his nose was full of glutinous brown blood and mucus and, alas, he was unable to take advantage of my generous offer.

Then, inevitably, the tears came. The room, an abandoned public lavatory, echoed with the sound of my uncontrollable sobs, filling my ears with reverberating, desperate, animalistic cries. It was as though Lucifer himself had been residing within my gullet and had finally decided to emerge like a flurry of starving jackdaws, bouncing from the walls and squawking around my head in bowel-squeezing agony, their poisoned beaks caving into their own faces, injecting their feathered torsos with unholy venom, thus creating a swarm of toxic, flat-faced hellfinches.

It was only when my sobbing ceased that I realized the full extent of my actions. On the floor lay a dying man. I lay next to him. No man should have to spend his final moments alone. The pool of blood in which I lay was beginning to cool and it felt refreshing as it soaked into my corduroy trousers. I put an arm across the man's chest wound. I patted it gently to comfort him, prompting him to whimper. The sound from his crusty-blood lips was small and sweet like that of an imported Jap during climax. I took this as a sound of appreciation, and this evoked further tears from my throbbing face. But this time they were not tears of ecstatic joy, but tears of rib-crushing sorrow.

I emitted a wail, the likes of which would make God himself jealous. My eyes were wider than the wound in my new lover's chest, and as the light pierced my corneas I could see the shapes of a thousand small orphans in a circle, each whipping the one to its left across the cheek with a kettle flex. The sight was beautiful, and it was in this moment that I understood once more why I committed the acts that I did.

When this brief moment had passed I realized that my companion on the floor had died. I lay with him for three days and nights, kissing him passionately whenever my lips felt to be getting dry. His beauty only improved over time. I was sad to leave him.
(stusut79, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 17:26, Reply)

Dumb Rookie...
I'd been forewarned about a mobile speed trap near where I worked. As I drove home I was careful not to go over the limit as I went through. I then went over a bridge and round a corner where there was a gaggle of traffic cars and assorted bizzies. To my surprise, a constable stepped into the road and signalled me to stop. I wound down the window and the following exchange took place:

PC: "Excuse me sir, but do you know your fog lights are on?"

ME: "Errr, no they're not."

>pause<

PC: "OK, move on sir."

ME: "???????????????????????????????????"

The older officers by the roadside ruefully shook their heads with hands covering eyes as I drove off.

If it was a cartoon, there would have been a huge question mark hovering above my Mini all the way home.
( huntersbar, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 17:24, Reply)

Most police are wankbars
My grandad was at work, and got beat up...
Took him 2 phone calls and 3 hours before the police actually came.
Bags of wank.
Also, security guards (not exactly the police) seem to always follow me and my mates around the shopping center...
...While some twunt steals practially a whole shop.
Fun.
Oh yeah, and when a security guard chased my friends out of the place cause they were making the lift go up and down and up and down...
(CrystalGreen, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 17:22, Reply)

Not mine....
A mate had a small run in with the fuzz when he was inadverently trodden on (the foot) by a police horse. Knowing a thing or two about horses (I guess) he quickly realised that the best course of action to get any horse to move was to whack it on the side of the head and force it to stagger sideways.

He did this, the horse moved and then the policeman on top jumped off and tried to arrest him for assaulting a police officer.

My mate's response?

"Fine, and I get him and you done for police brutality!" What with it being an unprovoked attack on a member of the public. He got away with it...

Case closed... :)
(Mr Joe Bangles, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 17:15, Reply)

One or two
1) My dear northern no nonsese Gran gets pulled for speeding in her younger days. At the side of the road she winds her window down and awaits for the copper to appear- but he takes longer than expected. She then states to the others in the car, rather loudly-'For Gods sake where is the silly bastard' just to see him appear at her side............

2) When we were underage, but at the annoying point where it was hit and miss whether we'd be caught we went to the local bowling alley/meat market (Pilsworth in Bury if any b3tans know it). My mate had a mate who looked about 18 from the day he was born and so he was dispatched to Asda to buy the booze. Having finished bowling we went outside the bowling alley and 2 of my mates are off for a sneaky swig down the side of the building and i was talking to a girl i knew with every intention of following them. However as i went to follow two big shadows ran past me and collared my mates- suffice to say i turned round and pretended to be none the wiser. How were we/they supposed to know that drinking in public/the streets had recently been banned........ oh well- my dad was well appy when he came to pick us up surrounded by rozzers

3) In kebab shop when about 17 after been to pub- when proper fully armoured riot van, cage over windscreen the works pulls up- and out pile a shed load of armed and padded officers to get there chicken kebabs n onion bhajis (thought id add mine seen as everyone else has- its ob surprisingly common despite the jokes!)
(Keyser Soze, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 17:05, Reply)

I used to work with a guy
Called Gavin Boyde Bellingham.

He got pulled over for a routine check on his car, they asked his name 3 times.

With no id to prove it they promptly took him to the back of the police van for a swift kicking.... That story always made me giggle... I blame the parents..
( Mrfishfinger .com, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 16:59, Reply)

Walking from Paddington Station to our house
one hot summer's evening, my girlfriend had just a t-shirt and pair of Alan Partridge's favourite hot pants on, as was her want. Cue loud shouts of "phwwooooaarrrr!" and other assorted niceties rapidly approaching from behind us. We turned round just in time to see a Police van scream past us full of the Boys in Blue who were hanging out of the window commenting coarsely on my girlfriend's state of dress.
( The Legendary Pink Dot survived yet another, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 16:47, Reply)

Police?
CUNTS.

.
( Vintage The badgers took my sanity... and my TV, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 16:34, Reply)

Only in Colorado..
Roaring back to Denver from Las Vegas in a convertible, I had been doing all the driving for about eight hours and was getting a little bored of it. In an effort to hasten the end of the journey I was really whacking it - getting a fine 10mpg through the mountains - until I shot past a bush with a cop car parked in it at about 100 mph.

Thank God I had backed off a little.

For a moment I thought he wasn't coming but then sure enough his lights came on and he pulled into the road. It seemed like it took about an hour for him to catch up (probably only a minute or two) depsite my slowing right down in the vain hope that he wasn't after me. Sadly, there was nobody else for miles. When the lights came on I had actually forgotten he was after me - must be the adrenaline - and had to be told to pull over by my passengers. Luckily, they also restrained me from getting out - apparently in the middle of the mountains at 1am this would be an invitation to be blown, unceremoniously, away. The cop approached the car and tapped on the window.

He was a skinny black guy with a Hitler 'tache and it is one of my greatest regrets that I don't have a recording to prove how gay his voice was.

"Good evening," he said camply. "I'm Deputy Gay". I shit you not. It wasn't even "Gaye".

After seeing my British licence he decided it wasn't worth the paperwork and let me off, which was good of him. However I will never live down the way my passengers relate the story that I had to go 'round the back' (my papers were in the boot) with Deputy Gay, after which he let me off.

"I'm gonna let you go with a warning," goes the new version of his farewell. "..and a kiss."

Edit: just re-read that and realised I come off as a boastful, homophobic scofflaw. Mind you, it's not far wide of the mark.
( pineapplecharm D d M Y, H:i, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 16:12, 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)

Is your copper house trained?
This is probably one of the few stories here that don't involve drugs or copious amounts of alcohol, but it still amuses me.

I was on the National Express coach on the M25 going back to my London Uni. On the side of the road were around 15 to 25 police cars just sat on the hard shoulder, lights off. I figured that they must have been on some sort of training exercise or something.

Midway through this thought and 100 yards down the road we passed under a motorway bridge and there, in what must have been an entire police force, stood 50 or so police men lined up, in florescent jackets, all peeing in unison against the side of the bridge.

I so wish i had my camera handy that day, I’m sure I could have sold the photo to the Sun for £150 or back to the police for £500.

You wouldn't think the police would need to train a whole force in the art of ‘Urinating in Public’ but then what do I know.
(bambo, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 16:00, Reply)

M5 on the M25
Not one that I can take credit for, but an incident my brother got involved in last Christmas.

Staying at his girlfriends parent’s house over Christmas, they had booked into one of these activity centers in Sussex for the day. So at 5am he found himself on an empty M25, in a shiny new BMW M5 that belonged to her Dad. As you do, as soon as he pulled onto the slip road onto the M25 he decided to floor it and see how the car handled. “30… 60… 90… 120… 150… Was that a police car on the bridge??? Bugger!”

Sure enough, a traffic car on the overpass lit up like a Christmas tree and came screaming onto the motorway. With a good head start, my brother did the manly thing. He slowed down and tried to hide in a row of cars trundling along at 65mph. Within a minute the police car went screaming by them. However, they soon realized what had happened and moved back out into the fast lane and started drifting back along the line of cars until they found him.

Pulling over, he didn’t even give the police the chance to walk up to the car and instead go out and walked back to the police car.

“Do you know why we’ve stopped you?”

“Eh, I may have been going a wee bit too fast officer”

“Do you know how fast you were going?”

The dreaded question, do you admit guilt and see if you get off with it, or do you lie through your teeth.

“I don’t honestly know, I looked down and saw I was doing over 100 and got a fright” was his reply…but then came a stroke of genius

“In Jersey there’s not a big enough road to even come close to that kind of speed. I didn’t realize how quickly it happened in this car”

At that point he said you could see the smile wiped off the two cop’s faces.

“Jersey? Do you live there?”

There then followed a discussion about the jurisdiction of UK officers and the fact that there was feck all they could do about endorsing his license. The only other option was to charge him with dangerous driving (which wouldn’t really stand up in court, it being a deserted Motorway at that time in the morning).

After getting back to the car and explaining what happened to his slightly pissed off girlfriend, she then turned round and said…

“I thought you still had your UK driving license!”

“They never asked about my license, only where I lived.” was his answer.
(StevieMcK, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 15:57, 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)

Nostalgic coppers
Kids, when choosing a classic car rather than a cheap 10 year old banger, make sure to choose one of a type not owned by half of the county's police force when they were younger. You can get pretty pissed off of getting pulled over twice a week so they can have a look at it and reminisce.
Also, carry all of your documents with you, as they always slap you with a producer as a friendly bonus.
Anglia loving power abusing sods.

And more recently, going past a copper at a frankly ridiculous speed at 5am, and it took him three motorway junctions to catch me, and could only clock me at 94 as i had slowed down a bit due to traffic by the end.
( Ulic hissing slightly, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 15:52, Reply)

Nice party...
...best mate is a police dog handler. We were heading back to his place after a night out and there's a party on at the new neighbours house across the road. Neighbour spots my friend and invites us both over. We went although this was the first time he had really spoken to her. Lovely house, nice guests, pleasant enough party - no dramas at all.

A couple of days later he calls me up and tells me he saw the same neighbour coming out of his station as he went in for work.
He jokingly said to her "Been speeding or something?" and she laughed and said "Yeah - or something."
He then found out she was reporting to the station as part of her bail conditions.

For the attempted murder of a rival prostitute.

b3tans from Queensland, Australia may remember the "head stomping prostitute" who got jailed about 4 years ago.
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 15:52, Reply)

Liverpool Police are ace
It's a long story but the crux of it is that several of us got caught short in Liverpool in the very early hours. We'd been to a Jesus and Mary Chain gig if it helps set the scene.

Being respecters of propriety and public property we chose our venue carefully and began pissing in earnest down a scuzzy alley behind Lime Street Station, a long way from any sort of beaten track.

Cue PC Scouser and his young apprentice, who had presumably marked us as likely lads and followed us.

It's 03.00, on a cold October night, and we're miles from any public highway, so when Young Apprentice asks "What would your mother say if she saw you" the whole lot of us, including PC Scouser, cracked up laughing.

The lad may subsequently have developed a better line of questioning although I sincerely doubt it.
( The Disappointed Caravanner of the year, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 15:51, Reply)

"Why don't you pigs stop picking on us students!!"
Let's be nice and call him Tom Goblet. People who know this guy will understand who I mean. He told us this story himself - for some reason thinking he'd have our sympathies...

Tom was on his way home in a rougher area of Peterborough one night, bumbling along with his bag of role-playing crap over one shoulder at -what?- 3a.m.? It'd been a late night of dungeons-and-dragons-ing (if that can be a verb).

Anyway, Tom apparently remembered something - something very urgent - and abruptly turned round and ran in the opposite direction. He is unclear whether it was the two police officers who rounded the corner in front of him that prompted this remembrance, but the two events coincided so nicely that the coppers had little choice but to assume the worst and give good chase.

Tom realised he was being chased, so he ran faster. The police chased faster. Tom suddenly gave up running and turned to say "Why don't you pigs stop picking on us students?!"

Suffice to say, they checked his arse for drugs.
( no cake for the impuritay Patrick Stewart hasn't aged since, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 15:39, Reply)

I'm a Police Officer
No really. During training, in a First Aid session, our lecturer told us this story.....

He went into the station one day and his collegue came up to him and asked....

"We had to deal with a body on the train lines today, I tried doing CPR but he never came back round"

"Oh right, sorry to hear that" he replied

"To be honest, I don't know if I was doing it 100% correctly"

"Ok, run through with me what you did"

"Right, well I took control of the chest and the Sgt had the head, after he did his breaths I did 15 compressions"

"Ok, that's good ... erm, how many breaths was he putting in?"

"I couldn't really see"

"What do you mean?"

"Well he was about 200 yards up the track from me"

Boom boom tish, a police officer really did make that joke after a real suicide on the train tracks. I guess they have to make light of things like that, otherwise every police force would be spending their budgets on curing Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after each scene of an accident!
(silkysean pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 15:35, Reply)

Wrong chemical...
...my ambulance was sent to standby at a "dangerous chemical spill" until the fire officers could declare the scene safe. This was a major incident and took about 11 hours to render safe, so it attracted a lot of media attention etc. A young and rather excited rookie police officer turns up early on and asks me what the chemical is and I tell him it is Ammonium Nitrate – I assumed he would know of this industrial fertilizer and it's potential for explosion as it can be used in terrorist bombs (as in the Oklahoma City bomb a few years ago).

Maybe he wasn’t listening to me properly.

He got on his radio to his sergeant and states “It’s been confirmed as Amyl Nitrate and it’s all over the highway”. The two drug squad officers who turned up a short time later were not impressed with what they found.
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 15:34, Reply)

caught with my pants down
Myself and some friends had been out for a few beers and a pizza, we were making our way home through a local car park and decided we'd have a 100 metre race to the exit - trousers round the ankles, waving our stolen beer tankards in the air, whilst wearing our best traffic cone hats (the usual).
Suddenly, mid race, all these lights flash on with a booming voice of "Stop where you are this is the police!"
We all freeze instantly stood in the middle of this car park, trousers down, arms in the air, cones on heads whilst about 6 coppers appear from some parked cars.
They'd been staking out the car park due to a large number of recent thefts/break-ins.
We all got let off with a caution.
( ashurek, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 15:32, Reply)

Years ago...
I was in the car with my brother-in-law on our way to get some burgers from a fast food place called Uncle Sams. As we were driving along a police car came whizzing past, sirens blaring.

My brother-in-law made a joke about them being in a hurry to get a burger, we laughed and forgot about it.

When we arrived at Uncle Sams we spotted the policemen sitting at a table in the corner, munching on doughnuts.
(PAMPAMPAM, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 15:28, Reply)

My friend used to work for the police
She wasn't a cop, she did paperwork type stuff.

A senior police officer gave her a file one day and which concerned an unusually high punishment for possession of cannabis. When she asked how much it was, the officer said "About a tenner's worth," to which she replied, "Blimey, that's not even an eighth!"

"...um, so I've, er...heard..."
(Pachey, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 15:17, Reply)

Outgunned
So I'm on my way home after a few jars down the pub, hacking it along a stretch of road notorious for speeding. I'm doing about 50 in a 30 zone, and realise with horror that I've just sped past a very small, well hidden side-street that seemed to contain something that looked very similar to a police car with its doors open. I slam the brakes on and stare intensely at my rear-view mirror to see if the car pulls out. After 15 seconds or so, I see the police car pull out.

Not wanting to take any chances, I took the fastest left off the main road I could find and began zig-zagging through an absolulte maze of a residential area. I literally trundle around for as long as I can before working my way back to the main road, a good 2 miles further on from the point I turned off. I approach the main road and stop at the mini-roundabout to let a car go past that looked exactly like a police car... the very police car I'd just performed evasive maneuvers to avoid.

Imagine how I feel, trailing behind the very coppers I'd tried to avoid as they deliberately drive at 25mph. Sure enough, they pull over and I have no choice but to carry on past. They pull out behind me, lights on, and I'm pulled over.

I get the usual questions. Do I know what speed I was doing? Do I know that was a 30 zone? Where am I headed etc etc. Finally they ask me why I pulled off the main road only to rejoin it 2 miles later. I figured a bit of humour might go down well at this point so I say "basically because I knew you'd seen me speeding and didn't want to get involved in a high-speed car chase with helicopters, sirens and flashing lights".

The copper looks at me for a moment, takes a step back and gives my car a once over. He then points to his own car.

"You see that? That's a modified Volvo S70 T5 2.3 litre turbo. Son, you would have lost."

I was let off with a warning but deep down I knew the rusty 1.1 litre Fiesta I was driving at the time could have had him.

G
(Gilbo, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 15:05, Reply)

Dead Body
My dad was in the police until he retired recently. There had been a murder in Dundee where the body had been cut into pieces and placed all over a huge hill (actually an extinct volcano), known here as "The Law". Anyway, a member of the public had found a piece of the body thus beginning a police search for the rest of it. The sun's starting to come up and a couple of officers are in an allotment on the hill when suddenly one screams "I'VE FOUND THE HEAD!". Next thing is this round, dark object is being lobbed directly at the other officer. Turns out to be a cabbage from the allotment. heh heh heh Who says policemen don't have a laugh?
(Jillish, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 14:57, Reply)

naples coppers
a friend of mine's dad imports fine italian food produce. It's quite a big company with an excellent reputation.
One time, he had to fly to Naples. He and his boss plus a colleague were going through customs when a couple of burly local police officers cut them off and take their baggage, telling them there's a problem with the contents. They're all quite shocked, especially when they're roughly chucked into a police van with no windows.
They drive for ages, until eventually the van stops, and the doors open. All they can hear is laughter.
Turned out the man who, er, 'owns' Naples is a fan of their produce, and decided it would be a 'hilarious jape' to 'welcome' them to the city.
(niceandwarmandhot vive la résistance, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 14:48, Reply)

One time at uni...
In halls during first year we got up to the usual hell raising antics as you do when away from home for the first time.

On one chaps birthday we got him drunk and tied him to lamp post outside with flexcuffs before pelting/covering him with all manner of household foodstuffs. A fun time was had by all so we retreated indoors for a few more beers whilst the hapless individual froze his balls off outside (this was in Dundee, early December). Anyway we felt it time to cut the poor guy down and by this time the guy has sort of passed out against the lamp post on his knees. So out two of us trudge with a large combat knife to cut the chap down. Just as we approach him the police drive into the campus and stop next to him.

"Don't worry officer we are just going to cut him down." My flatmate yells, as he pulls out the knife and begins to saw at the plastic cuffs.

Apparently this happens all the time in Dundee as all the policemen did was wave and start to drive off just as the cuffs finally give in and our victim falls to the ground. Thankfully he woke up when he hit, they might not of looked so kindly on us carrying what could be a corpse back inside our flat.
(mehmeh 0% witty, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 14:37, Reply)