I knew the jig was up
and I would get caught when Columbo turned up. Continually showing up at my mansion/place of work/golf club asking me round the houses irrelevant questions and talking about Mrs Columbo. It wasn't long till he had put the easily guessed 2 + 2 together and trapped me in front of friends and family to make his wonk eyed accusations forcing an angry confession from my mouth. Now I languish in jail kicking myself for not realising that pure guess work would never stand up in court, without actual factual evidence.
I should have guessed when I was the special guest star for the week that I wouldn't fox him this time, especially when he had sussed out Shatner the week before!
(Manatee Fondler, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 11:04, Reply)

Who says they don't look after their own?
Years ago I was a uniformed security guard. I nipped off site (as you do) and drove a few miles to the nearest cash point for a bit of beer money for after the end of the shift.

Anyway, nobody in site as I start back, so I FLAW IT! I'm talking 75mph in a 30mph zone. The road ahead was completely clear, but I look in my mirror and there's a jam sandwich behind me, lights flashing. Fucksocks, I think - but it's a fair cop.

Anyway, they pull alongside, and both of them look over - and they see the security guard uniform. Suddenly they give me a thumbs up, the blue lights go off, and they drop back, leaving me STILL doing 75mph in the 30 zone but with a clear road behind as well as ahead!

Still don't know where they came from, but boy am I glad they look after the people they think are "their own"!
(Snitter the Rat, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 10:58, Reply)

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

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

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

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

pished
I haven't had a cunt all night drinkstable.
( Terry Oblong There's nobody here but us chickens on, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 10:32, Reply)

.
In an Adelaide pub a few years back a mate decided to blowfish two cops walking by outside. They stormed in and hauled him off to jail for the night, then he fronted court the next day. The arresting officer explained a 'blowfish' to the magistrate as thus: "Your honour, the defendant pressed his lips against the glass and exhaled so as to inflate his cheeks in an offensive manner."
(Brundy, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 10:21, Reply)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Its a fair Cop, Guv
After a solid 11am til 11pm drinking stint one Saturday with my mates, I was in need of my duvet and fell into a cab to get home. One of the lads - Jamie, had stopped drinking at 11pm as he had to drive in the morning. At 1am, he got the horn after a bit of textual intercourse with his on-off-on-off girlfriend. He decided to drive round to hers - a 10min journey across woodland back-roads. However, he had mounted a curb when turning right at a junction - right in front of a parked policecar. He got stopped, tested positive and banged up for the night. At Court, he was asked to account for himself - and Jamie decided that honesty is the best policy said,
"I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't been so drunk"...
2yr ban and hefty fine was awarded for his honesty. It even made the local press!
(AveUseenIT, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 9:59, Reply)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My dad had just got back from teaching English in France
And was driving an old foreign left-hand-drive car with his French mate. I suppose his concept of UK traffic laws was quite poor at this point, cause he drove into Picadilli Circus the wrong way and jammed up the whole junction (this was the 60s - there was a policeman directing traffic in the middle).

Bobby steps up to the (passenger) side window and knocks infuriatedly. Dad's mate winds it down and says "What's the problem copper?" in genuine French. Dad - sitting in the left-hand driving seat - goes along and says an equally puzzled fluent French "What on earth does the Gendarme want?"

Bobby decides "Stupid foreign nutters don't know the decent English laws of the road," and waves them through the snarled up traffic.
( no cake for the impuritay Patrick Stewart hasn't aged since, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 9:35, Reply)

i've several (arse..) but i'll just detail a few here..
i do have a nice hatred of police due to the last story. they have been reasonable to me since, but tbh, they shagged my life up considerably that time, so now i have contempt for em. i know thats painting everyone with the same brush etc, but thats the way i am...

anywyas, first story - driving back home to brighton one night - as anyone who knows it will know - off the end of the a27 there's a biiig roundabout and the road goes from an nsl dual carrageway to a 40. its wet, i'm in a rwd car (volvo 340 *snigger* before any of ya ask). its 1 or 2 am, having been to visit the old folks for a while.. anyways, approaching the roundabout, theres a pair of headlights in the rear view mirror. slow down a little (to 40ish) steer onto the roundabout, steer right and then boot it as hard as i can (not very hard in a 1.4 you understand).. rear end slips nicely out of line, and i come off at my exit at a very odd angle. straighten 'er up and continue down the road at 50 - i dont normally speed - but its pretty easy to on this road (very wide) and no-one was about. 10 secs later there is a pair of blue lights in my rear view. fearing for the worse i pull over, hofficer comes round as i roll down the window

'skews me son, did you know that..'
*me shits sen*
'..one of your brakelights it out'
'is it officer? lemme take a look'
*proceed to walk round the back of the car and thump it*
'works now see - dodgy connection'
'ah ok, on yer way son'

now the bizare thing is, the last time i had used my brakes was before the roundabout, so they musta seen me go round it sideways and speed down the road - but no mention - let alone a warning - of it was evident..

2nd tale is about a year later. similar car - i've driven down to devon (folks live there) picking up my bro (from bath uni) first. theres a queue of traffic thru some devon village which seems a bit odd, at 1am, so i join the back of the queue. it starts moving after a minute, then from the front of the queue i spot a copper turning off into a side road - he'd presumably been bolloking someone. i keep watching and he does a U turn in the side road, then pulls out behind me just as i drive past. hmm i think, and keep to 29mph thru the rest of the village (drivers in front havent noticed and bombed off doing 50). keep driving in a 'pass your test' mode and come to the end of the village. about 50 yards from the nsl sign i accellerate a little, get up to about 33mph a yard from the sign and the lights come on. fucksocks thinks i. officer comes out

'why were you driving so slow'
'well, the speed LIMIT is 30, i was keeping within that limit, doing 29, because you were behind me'
'ahh you spotted us then'
'yes, i'm hardly likely to speed with a copper behind me am i?'
'hmm. well most people who drive carefully this time of night are trying to avoid attention. you been drinking'
'only water'
'right. whats all this stuff (bros computer, general life piled onto the back seats) then?'
'thats my brothers stuff, i picked him up from uni'
'ah, well, you see there have been some burgleries in the area'
'by people driving 15 year old volvos?'
'well.. no.'
'have a good day officer'

drive off home. still doing 1mph less than the speed limit till he foooked off thou :)

final tale actually preceeds the first 2 by a couple of years. i'm renting a place at uni (cardiff, i was on richmond road) which was owned by a 'mates' parents - over the course of the year they had turned out to be complete cnuts. no music or tv on after 10, my other mate wasnt allowed his gf round and had actually moved out, etc.. anyways, come may (just before end of year exams) my musses is due down for the weekend - she lived up in bangor so when we did manage to see each other, we were fairly occupied for sizable chunks of the weekend... the day before my 'mate' tells me his mum will be down over hte weekend to do an inspection. i tell him ok. on the friday, he tells me that she'll be coming down that evening, to which i respond thats fine as long as i'm not otherwise occupied. so the musses arrives, and we get down to business.. 20 mins in (go me \o/) there is a knock at the door. twich i reply 'not now'. and carry on.. a short while later i'm done and am sitting chatting nekked on the bed next to me musses. up pops 'mates' msn window, starts going on about the state of the hallway or some such. i reply, and mear seconds later theres footsteps up the stairs, and his mum knocks on the door. 'not fucking now' i reply, and she bursts in anyways, clutching a camera. 'get the fuck out of my room' says i, with myself and the musses both nekked. she refuses, so i repeat myself. her still refusing i pick up the nearest object (happens to be an a4 pad of paper) and throw it at her, it hits the door near her face, i get up, walk to the door and force it shut. thinking thats the end of it, i proceed to get dressed. 10 mins later the cops arrive, and arrest me for abh (thats for when you've broken someones bones etc), i'm carted off to a cell, bird has to wait outside for hours. apparently the woman has scratches to her face (not broken the skin), and a bloody nose (due to stress) i'm charged, let go on bail, and sent home. cops take me home. now, on a side note, my contract to the house (because the owners were fucknuts) said i had sole tennancy, meaning i was basically the only person living there. so legally they werent allowed inside (dispite 'mate' living there). police refused to eject them, and forced me to stay in my room overnight.

cut a long story short, i moved out shortly afterwards (they tried to force me out but failed). and got sent to court. now dispite her trespassing, invading my privacy, refusing to leave, and myself using reasonable force to eject her from my room, i'm told by my useless 'free' lawyer to plead guilty to assault. i do, mainly to save my musses, who i'd put thru enough, having to go to court for a day as a whitness etc. i end up owing fines of £30 and fees of £30. (much much less than normal - I thought i was going to end up with ~£200 or some community service - the magistrates obviously thought it was a pisstake but felt that they had to do something as i was pleading guilty). sillybint didnt even go to the doctor, so they couldnt have done anything anyways - i blame the lawyer bloke for this bit, but its the coppas fault to start with..

anyways, i text other mate who lived there the result of this, and get this back as a response



made my day :)

appologies for length and general rambling. good to get it off my chest mind - if i could write like some of yous, it'd be on the front page, you knows it. clart.
(5lab, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 8:44, Reply)

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

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

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

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

Innocent little me...
When I used to work for an internet cafe type affair, I often wouldn't finish work until 00:30 or 01:00 (due to the ridiculously late closing hours). I lived in a scummy area of town because I got paid bugger all, and it was about 10 min walk from work.

So - There was this old and slightly buggered 14" TV in one of the back offices that had been there since the business had taken over the building - and my boss said that he wanted it out of his way and that if I wanted it, then I could take it. So I did.

Cue me, 18 years old, looking tired as hell, scruffy as anything after 15 hours work, walking down one of the most notorious roads in Eastbourne, carrying a television set in my arms...at one o' clock in the morning...

Cue cop-car swinging round the corner facing me, spotting me and my telly, blue lighting the next possible turning around spot and pulling up beside me.

I stopped walking and put the TV set on the ground. He's getting out of the car. I'm bricking it wondering how the hell I'm going to explain this. He looks at me. I look at him.

"Excuse me, but this is a bloody funny time of night to be walking down Langney Road with a television isn't it..."

"Yes Sir" (followed by my explaination of the events which lead to my predicament)

He just looked very bemused let me go about my business. This leads me to conclude that coppers are not all bad, but possibly a bit daft in the head. I'd have arrested me!

(He didn't offer me a lift home though... :-()

Length/girth/whatever...
(Lifson Kofie, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 7:48, Reply)

Mr Woodcock
When myself and three colleagues were merely 17 we decided to spend the evening drinking one of our number's father's home-made wine in a big deserted house. We were not quite at the stage where we could no longer speak when two special constables suddenly loomed in the doorway.

We instantly (probably about twenty seconds when we'd worked out how he knew our names) recognised one of them as Mr Woodcock, a teacher at our primary school, known God-botherer and alleged amateur preacher. He quite clearly knew we were under age but accepted our poorly-thought-through excuses anyway. I think they probably ordered us to vacate the premises at least partially on the grounds that the building was a bit knackered (huge holes in the staircase) as well as the fact that youths shouldn't sit around drinking extremely powerful home-brew* in deserted houses. I sometimes wonder if real fuzz would have acted differently...

*later that evening I recall getting the job of lugging the most incoherent of us up to his front door into his parents' safe-keeping as they apparently didn't like the other bloke (bad influence). The resultant suspicion exhibited by this guy's mother probably lasts to this day. I also couldn't drink more than half a pint without feeling sick for the next year.
( wingpig wish I'd known about liquify eighteen years ago, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 6:31, Reply)

New Orleans
Several years ago I was visiting some college friends who lived outside of New Orleans. Two were brothers who had a father who was a heavy drinker.

One night the father announces that a famous jazz musician is town (in New Orleans? What are the odds?) and that he was treating all of us lads to the show.

Now the father was a nice guy while sober but a mean drunk. After downing his first dozen drinks he would try and start a fight. This night went true to form.

The sons did not drink. At least nothing like their father. Luckily they were close by and used to dealing with him and dragged him out of the bar with the bouncers behind us muttering threats. Outside the club the father became uncontrollable. One of the sons finally had to throw him on the ground, sat on this chest with his knees trapping the arms and proceeded to calmly keep slapping his father while lecturing him that he needed to calm down and go home. The rest of us young types stood around in a circle staring at the scene.

Suddenly we hear a voice call out "what is going on?". I turn and the to tallest, black police officers I have seen in my life are getting out of their squad car.

I mentally started figuring out how much money I had for bail. 4 young punks standing around watching the fifth beat up an old man generally is not considered a scene the police try and promote. Even in New Orleans.

We four approach the officers and start stammering out explanations. The one son just calmly continued to sit on his father, still slapping him, and telling him "see? Now the cops are here. They are going to take you to jail now."

The cops just stood there for what seemed an eternity. They probably had thought that they had seen everything but the son sitting there and calmly continuing slapping his father while lecturing him apparently was a first. I was just trying to keep from soiling myself. The story sounded so stupid that there was no way that they would believe us.

Finally one of the officers said "hit him once for me" and the two went back to their car and drove off.
(BlahBlahBlah, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 6:28, Reply)

The year was 1995...
...or was it 1994? Anyway, it was a wonderfully hot summer and there were fantastic parties happening all over Dublin. Without a search warrant, there wasn't much the cops could do about it. One night, at a particularly bangin' Techno party, the cops 'invited' themselves in and proceeded to switch off the music and wreck heads. The main guy sneered as he looked around at us and said in his most contemptous voice "Look at you, dancing like animals - I'm sweating like a pig in here". As soon as he said it, he realised what he'd done and the whole place erupted into gales of laughter and cries of "get the fuck out! Sweaty pigs!". They changed the law soon after that so that they could print out and sign their own search warrants in their cars. Rich mans militia...
(PsiPhi, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 4:05, Reply)

Traffic Cops
My wife got pulled for speeding a few months ago and got a fine.

The area she was "speeding" through is near our new place, so she didn't know it very well. The road was a 35, and - having come out of a 45 area and not seen the sign - she was doing 45. She was a little nervous because the local baseball/basketball/some-Merkin-sport-or-other team had won, so the road was full of fuckwits beeping their horns, hanging out of windows, etc., which is why she hadn't noticed the abrupt drop in speed limit.

The particular stretch of road where it's a 35 doesn't actually need to be a 35. When you get to the bits where a 35 limit would be reasonable, because it's so built up, it's a 45. Why? Well, the 35 limit bit is an area that, even though about the size of a fucking Cheshire hamlet, is a city in its own right - even though it's effectively part of San Antonio.

It's a posh residential area (no industry, no shops) with a very shiny cop station and clearly very little crime (every house is behind electronically-controlled gates with an intercom system, and alarmed to fuck), because if the coppers aren't driving up and down the "main street" (perfectly asphalted, no litter)in their pristine Ford Tauruses, they're lying in wait for motorists.

Last weekend, on the way out to the shops, we saw two jam sandwiches driving down the street, one in a layby, and three parked in the station car park.

Cunts.
(Nardis, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 3:32, Reply)

Police+Pub=Oompah
As a Kid, My mate Toby lived in this remote country pub. His Dad was a Mason, and many of the Top Plods used to pop in for free drinks etc. One Night I stayed round while Most of The local top plod drank until 4 AM with a live german style oompah band playing. In Somerset, this is called 'making your own entertainment'. It's what your grandparents did before TV.
(BigAndyBee, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 2:35, Reply)

I was driving home one night
The car behind was tailgating and driving with full beams causing me to swerve slightly due to being blinded.

Then on came the blue lights. I was pulled over and greeted by one of the Queen's finest.

"Good evening sir could you tell me why you were driving in an erratic fashion?"

In hindsight maybe it was not the best answer in the world to say:

"Some cunt was trying to rear-end my car while blinding me with their full beams."

"That was me".

A fine and 3 points later I was on my merry way. Fuck it, it was worth it.
(Chuckman, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 1:10, Reply)

There are no police in Suffolk...
...most of them were eaten by cannibals in 1983.
The ones that remain cower in the sheltered parts of the A14, darting out every now and then to chase motorists.

Except in one case when I was in a car with my mate Greetham and three other folks, and Greetham sticks his head out the window, cackling like a loon and giving the finger to some kids on the pavement. Of course, a fuzzcar materialised directly behind us (as if by magic) and they obviously took offence at Greetham's gesticulations, because they tailgated us all the way through town, onto the A14 and almost all the way to Cambridge (60 miles)... when our driver (he was called Bumhole) finally pulled over, we all got £50 fines for wasting police time.

If wasting police time is a criminal offence, then the Suffolk Constabulary owes the Crown some serious squids... thanks to the police, Ipswich is becoming the southern equivalent of Barnsley.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 1:00, Reply)

pigs chasing sheep!
A dark, rainy Xmas eve several years ago, a friend and I are in my car (beat up old fiesta 1.1) heading down some back-roads to get to a party. I didnt know the roads and he supposedly did so was calling out pace-notes, which was nice until he got it wrong. The easy right-hander turned out to be a bloody sharp corner....understeer...slide...panic...brace for impact...ploughed through a fence into a field. The barbed-wire got all tangled around the car so we pulled down a good 100m or so of rickety old fencing. A load of sheep had been happily standing about when our sudden arrival in their fied caused a stampede....straight out the gap in the fence onto the road. Grumpy farmer turned up, followed by the cops. I was taken into the back of the cop car where the lady (quite foxy too, I should add) police oficer breathalysed me, asked me what happened etc. every now and then in the headlights of the cop car, we would see the rather overweight male copper and grumpy farmer running about in the dark trying to round up these sheep!
I found this hilarious, and so did the woman officer. Later, when the car was recovered and the sheep safely back in the field, the sweaty, mud-splattered chubby copper got back into the car. He hadnt found it very funny at all.
(dave likes cheese, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 0:38, Reply)

Not funny.
Was about 15 when some notorious lads came up to me and held a knife to my throat for about two minutes. In broad daylight for no reason whatsoever. I think it was cus I was tall, or something

"Do you think you're hard?"

(through tears) "No..."

After proving their point they left.

Ran home, spotted a panda car, told the officers. Drove round the corner to (another) notorious spot where local thugs hang around... there they were.

Great!

Copper grabbed them, threw them in the back seat and proceeded to force an apology out of them through *extreme* force.

I'm a non-violent, passive type, but my golly gilly gosh that was so so so satisfying.

One of the lads is dead, another in gaol for twenty and I spotted the other selling spoilt copies of the big issue.

"Have you got an official vendors ID?"

"Er... no... not with me"

"Well you can piss off then"

Satisfying schadenfreude.

I respect the police, its not a "nice" job. And I could never understand people with an irrational hatred for "pigs"

Rational hatred through personal experience is fine though.

length? apology? nah.

edit: ALL YOU DRINK / DRUGGED DRIVERS CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF.
(kev.cc, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 0:38, Reply)

My story of the police is quite well known
I was arrested earlier this year for throwing pizza at the Queen's car in Cambridge. From this, I am of two opinions about the police. On one side, they are a friendly and jolly bunch that have a sense of humour and quite liked me. On the other side, they are utter cunts and take things waaaaaay too seriously.
Unfortunatley, the latter is more common
Bastards.
EDIT: And when I was robbed few weeks ago, I had my weed stolen. I couldn't report it either!
( Brown cow, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 0:37, Reply)

It all started in the pub
So, me and a work colleague, following an exhausting eight-pint meeting, decided to have a short walk before turning in. This being England, the pubs close at 11. And we've got work in the morning.

Come 2am, we decide it really is time for bed. So on the corner of South and West Streets, we head our separate ways. Within 30 seconds, two police cars appear on both streets. Being (by now) stone cold sober, I have no problems wending my merry way without further interference from the local constabulary. My esteemed colleague, however, turns on the charm, and not only worms his way out of it - he then asks them to give him a lift home.

And they did!
( esganorp has no hummus, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 22:53, Reply)

Ew.
Once, when I was about three or four years old, my parents decided that we would drive from Florida to Maine and back again, as we'd just moved and neither of them had a job just yet.

So, we went on our way, and somewhere along the journey I developed an inexplicable fondness for tuna. I had eaten tuna for lunch, and some hours down the road I was feeling very queasy, so we pulled off to the side of the road, since nowhere else to stop was in sight, and almost immediately a friendly copper decided to come see what the problem was. My father had just lifted me out of my seat, and turned around to say something to the officer, and I puked in his face. The policeman made his apologies for interupting and climbed, puke-smeared, back into his car.

I'm so proud!
(Fodqou, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 22:38, Reply)

Police.
I work for the Police, so I have stories a-plenty. But the message I want to put out today is for any women tempted to go out with a policeman. Don't.

Saying that, they work pretty darn hard to make us safe. Some do stuff that would make the average persons flesh crawl. Just don't fall in love with one. Sigh...
(MissKittyKate1, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 22:30, Reply)

dear death_of_fleas
each and every week the QOTW will ridicule someone...
last week, the 'posh' amongst us
week before, mother-in-laws
erm... skip the next but the one after is neighbours
just leave it out, take it on the chin & laugh at someone else's misfortune next week
( Insane Maniac musically inclined (about 45°), Thu 22 Sep 2005, 22:27, Reply)

Death-of-fleas
i object to you

Good day sir!
( cheesemaster a screaming naked asian man driving a semi, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 22:26, Reply)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Country cops can be assclowns
I was, oh, 21 at the time, and my car's back brakes had gone goofy. I was about an hour outside of Piitsbugh Pennsylvania on some country road, and figured I would just sleep the night in the car. About half an hour later, a police car pulls up behind.

"Boy am I glad to see you! I don't know where I am, and my car's broken down"

"Well you can't park it here" where not a soul had travelled past since i pulled over.

He proceeded to threaten to have it towed, as in impounded, unless I moved it. I limped it out of there, and he followed me until I got out of the county.

A couple months later, I get a phone, from someone asking for donations for the policeman's ball or whateverthefuck. "No I'm not giving you any money and here's why, thankyouveryfuckingmuch" to paraphrase.
( Foxglove -- it all ends in tears anyway..., Thu 22 Sep 2005, 22:16, Reply)

I object to this QotW
The Police do a very difficult job with little or no thanks from you the General public. So to ridicule and laugh at them and insult them is extremly childish. They are only human and just as likely to make mistakes as you or I.
(Juan Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez is seriously considering a shorter username, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 21:59, Reply)