Unverified...
My friend told me this one several years ago - I really hope that it is true.

His brother had been at the pub with a large group, but wasn't drinking as he was on antibiotics. However, when he left at closing time he was pulled over. Narked at this, he started sounding off (he was a fiesty mad bugger).

One of the cops had enough of this and arrested him for some ridiculous charge of threatening behaviour. They started reading him his rights - "anything you say may be taken down and used as evidence". So mad fiesty bugger starts reciting Hamlet from the beginning... apparently the young cop started transcribing this...

As I said, this is unverified but makes a good yarn.
( Strangey is present at, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 13:27, Reply)

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

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

ooh, blimey
Right. First of all, I don't condone the whole driving under the influence thing at all. Nor speeding. Nothing annoys me more than people whining across message-boreds (sic) the interweb over, saying "oooh, I was doing 160 in a 30 past a school and they fined me £60. the bastards. Why don't they go out and catch some real criminals. As far as I'm concerned you're all cunts.

However, when I was 17/18, I was a right cunt.

1. Before I passed my test, I figured out that removing the L plates from my car made me look like a fully qualified driver to all concerned, and thus I could happily blat up and down the A10 at 100mph to see my mates, and I'd probably be ok. Winner. I did it for a couple of months, probably 5 days out of 7. 8 days after I finally passed my test, a charming officer stepped out from a layby on the borw of a hill infront of me, and suggested using only his arms that it'd be a good idea for me to pull over and have a nice chat. This I did, and he politely pointed out that 84 is too fast in a 60 and that I was going to get some points,. "Where's your license sonny?" ... "ummm... at the DVLA sir. Only passed my test last week.". he wasn't that impressed. It was good of him to take the mark as 84, cos if he'd clocked me at 85 it would have been 6 points, and I'd have lost my license. I was doing about 95 when I spotted him.

2. A few months later, I was out on the raz. I lived about 12 miles north of the town where I went to school and all my mates were, so any drinkage activities meant finding somewhere to crash (hassle), kipping in the car (cold) or driving home. (This was a few years back, I should point out, when drink-driving was slightly more socially acceptable than it is now). So I'd had a snorter of a night. One of my mates who lived even further away was fucked for a way home, so I offered him my sofa, and we headed off. So I'm being fairly careful, cruising down the A10 at 62moh (60 limit) steering with my knees and air drumming to whatever was on my stereo. Coming towards my hometown, I slowed comfortably in advance of the 30 limit (cos they often hid in a side road just after the signs) and noticed a pair of headlights in the reaview mirror. "ohfuckingcuntybollocks" I muttered, seeing it was a panda car, and thanking the good lord of pissed up reasoning that I'd remembered to slow down for the 30 signs. Presumably thinking I'd clocked him, mr policeman put his blues on, so I pulled over hoping he was trying to get past me to some kind of urgent matter, like getting to the chippy before it shut or something. Parked behind me didn't he. Bollocks. He came round to my door, opened the door and asked me to get out. I tried, remembered I still had my seatbelt on, un-latched, tried again and fell straight into the road. Officer politely picked me up and helped me to the kerbside quipping "we don't want to get run over do we sir?". Nice. So he explained that he'd clocked me about 5 miles back doing 80 and that he wanted to test my breath for evidence of dunkenness. Fair enough. Fucking hell, I thought. Although I did point out that I was driving particularly carefully and I could guarantee I didn't get near 80. (That's true - I didn't - and he never proved otherwise).

"Right sir, blow in this". He carefully explained that there were 3 lights on the machine. The first one showed it was on. The second one (which lit up when got out the car, I think!) meant that there was some trace of alcohol on my breath. "I only had a pint officer and it was hours ago" I bravely ventured. The third light was the one we were both waiting for. That's the "you're nicked" light. NEVER came on. 5 minutes we stood there.

Poor copper couldn't believe it. I fucking couldn't believe it. I was beaming! I shook the poor bloke's hand more than once, when he said he was going to let me off the (obviously made up) speeding offence. He suggested I "get homne as quickly as possible before I pass out and consider myself a very lucky boy".

I did, and I do. When I got home, I spent a good hour on the white porcelain phone to huey, and had the mother of all hangovers the next day. Bloody lucky bastard though.

Quite a few years on and I have a lovely clean license. :)

Fuck me, that's longer than I meant. Mmmm. Rambly...
( Tone Depear fucking rocks, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 11:57, Reply)

A story in 'Q' magazine a few years ago
concerning Jon Anderson of 'Yes'. Nothing to do with me but found it amusing. Roughly,

"I'm driving down the Florida Turnpike, not paying a great deal of attention to my speed, and the next thing I know I'm getting pulled over by the cops. I get out of the car to greet the cop and he walks up to me and says 'licence and registration'. I replied that I didn't have it. 'OK, let's see some ID'. I didn't have any ID on me but as we were doing very well in the States at the time I said 'I don't have any ID, but you might know me - I'm Jon Anderson from 'Yes'. The cop replies 'ok, if you're Jon Anderson what was the name of your last single. 'Easy', I reply, 'Owner Of A Lonely Heart'. 'Okaaaaay', says the cop, 'If you're Jon Anderson sing Owner Of A Lonely Heart'. So I stood there at the side of the road and sang the whole of Owner Of A Lonely Heart while the guy looks on with a big smile on his face. When I finished he said 'Yep. You're Jon Anderson alright.' Then he booked me.
( routine has perfected burgers, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 11:25, Reply)

community service
when i were a teenage whippersnapper i used to walk a dog for an elderly lady on my old paper round route.

one hungover sunday morning i was sleepily making my way over to her house when a stripey 206 pulls over next to me. after the usual questioning, where did i live, where was i going etc, i was thrown over the police car without warning and searched. finding nothing, they let me go, only to have a twunting police helicopter follow me overhead until i had picked up the dog and headed into the woods.

when i returned the dog to the old lady she informed me that my clear description had been put out on local radio, warning the public to stay away and call police. apparently i was breaking into cars with a screwdriver and threatening to kill people, but it turned out the guy they wanted was 2 foot taller than me, blonde and wearing completely different clothes.

anyway, best bit (apart from the helicopter part was that after making a complaint (how could i resist?) i got an official pig apology sent to my pager! w00t!

apologies for length, but thats the nature of incidents with the police
(prescottspies eating pies to save the nation, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 10:44, Reply)

working in a taxi office on the late shift
I get over the radio,
"I have just been offered a dabble (race) on the motorway by a copper, so I accepted we are doing about 110mph at the moment"
I just laughed when I was told:
"We are side-by-side, He just showed me the bird, He changed gear and just left me standing....."
( Plomien is Polish for flame, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 10:20, Reply)

Crime Prevention
When I still lived with my parents (this was just after uni) I used to stay in central London on a Friday after work to enjoy a few sly lemonades with my pals.

One night I got the last tube back to Stanmore and spotted a police car. Being a bit pissed and more than a little lazy I went up and asked them if, in fact, their focus was on the prevention of crime.

"Of course" came the reply. "Good-oh" I say -"then will you give me a lift up the hill, just in case I get attacked?"

Sure enough they did, and continued to do so most Friday nights until I moved to Camden. How sweet is that? Thanks, rozzers!
( Strangey is present at, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 9:44, Reply)

Oh and another....
One night dad was chasing a burglar but, being a bit on the lardy side, was getting tired very quickly and the sprightly 20-year-old was getting away. Then dad shouts "Stop or I'll set the dog on you." Burglar, not wanting a mauling from Satan's canine representative on earth, stops dead in his tracks and surrenders to Her Majesty's Finest.
Only thing is, me dad didn't have a dog with him.
Oh how they laughed as they went back to the station in the black mariah.
( Sausagegirl, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 8:27, Reply)

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

Shooting
My gf and I were pulling into the parking lot of a video rental store and witnessed a guy back his truck into a car, look straight at us, then drove off. We were less than 20 feet away and had a full description of everything.

I go into the store and start asking around for the owner of the car that was hit. Sure enough a uniformed officer walks up, his face falling as he guessed why we were asking.

After giving him all of the information he thanked us and said that he would call and let us know how it turned out.

I was doing photography on the side at that time and had a field shoot about a week later. I was expecting a call from a friend and so left a message on the answering maching saying "We're going out to shoot someone. Will be back in an hour."

When we returned the message light was blinking. The call was from the officer. He did not sound very amused. I called him and he filled me in on the details (he found the owner and the truck with damage that matched our description. The owner denied everything but apparently subtle threats made him change his mind.)

Nother was ever said about the shooting message. I wonder to this day whether he figured out what we meant or if thought it was a prank message.
(BlahBlahBlah, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 4:21, Reply)

Detection rates
Lived in one of Glasgows worst shitholes. Top half of stairs, where I was, 24/7 shooting gallery. Bottom half used as gang hut/toilet by local chavneds. Lots of breakins/muggings. CID appears at my house, asks me to sign a prepared statement saying that I'd seen my downstairs neighbour moving all his belongings into a van and driving away with them. Complete bollocks, which I told him and asked him what they were going to do about the breakins/violence/intimidation on the stairs. He told me "if you don't like it get a fucking job and buy a house."

Same house was torched twice in 13 days, trapped for over an hour first time, out during 2nd. While I was at the vets with my badly injured cat, the locals raided my house in shifts, everything down to teabags/shampoo/food/clothes/watertank. Building condemned and had to move in with parents. Cue phonecall from local cop, informing me that I'd performed the fires and breakin myself for insurance. Informed him I wasn't insured. He called back 5 minutes later and said I did it to get moved to a new house. I told him I'd already accepted a new house before the breakin and was waiting for the keys. He called back 5 minutes later to inform me that I'd done it myself because I'm an attention seeking troublemaker. Case closed, even though I could name at least six of the local scum I know for a fact were in my house.

As luck would have it I was only moved 1/4 mile from this shithole into a house facing same policestation. Cue five years of the same shit, windows bricked in, etc. When I chased them they would run into station, shouting 'we're only 15 and that big guy's going to hit us'. Ended up being cornered by a loudmouth wideboy cop and his silent female partner. He told me that if I didn't stop chasing the neds he was going to plant heroin and a knife on me and make sure I was remanded for it.

Local Labour councillor for this place was a complete crook who protected the drug dealers and switched off the dictaphone to threaten me when I tried to get help to be moved to another area.

Bottled by gang of 15 neds outside one of the houses. Police show up, see 15 drunk neds and me bleeding and went for the easy option and arrested me.

I know you can't tar all police with the same brush but after this I have absolutely no time for them whatsoever. This lot were a bunch of lazy, overpaid crooks.

ps, the response time from this station to make the 1/4 mile journey averaged 5 1/2 hours. This station had a dying shopping scheme from hell next door to it. Smack was sold openly outside this. The police station had CCTV pointing to one side of it to cover their cars, conspicously none on the other side which would have covered the dealers. But hey, crime in areas where people aren't loaded and have connections isn't actually crime, it's a social problem, apparently.
(albinomeatpod, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 3:09, Reply)

A few weeks ago
Got pissed as me and another workmate were leaving work the next day, and all the temps at this job had become good friends. After leaving the shitty club we had been at all night, where I had bumped into various people from my old secondary school (some better recieved than others), we found a shopping trolly in the middle of the high street. One of my mates got in it and I said I would push her home, and totally meant it. We got to the end of the high street and into the market square, where we decided to get an almost-not-food-burger. The police pulled up along side us. Those of us on the outside calmly walked away, and the girl inthe trolly calmly gotout and also walked away. The policeman driving then asked me where I got the trolly. I told him it came from the high street, and he made me return it to the same place I found it.

I know it's not that funny, I just like telling stories when I have them. I have a better one for when I have more time and a decent keyboard to type on in a couple of days.
( Styxx hates when people talk in the third person, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 2:59, Reply)

P*ssing in the park and others
Story 1:

One night when out driving around with a car full of disreputable types we were driving through a very large city park that is generally deserted at night we all decided that there was a need to relieve our internal tensions.

So I pull over to the side of the road and we all proceed to empty our bladders. This park is heavily wooded and all of us jumped when a PA blared from a hidden cop car in some nearby bushes.

From the voice the cops were obviously too drunk to chase us but the had fun singing (yes, actually singing in a slurred voice) "you can't dooooo that!"

Story 2:

We had a friend, L, who was not the brightest bulb in the pack. One night were were near some railroad tracks drinking. A train was approaching from the distance and for some reason had a blue light flashing. One of the lads said "Quick! Run L! That's a police train!"

About 5 minutes of almost having to sit on L ensued as he was panicking trying to get us to flee the police train.

Story 3:

I had purchased a SHO right after they were introduced and my brother and I were driving down to the beach with a couple in the back to spend the weekend at their grandparents beach house. The car had about half a liquor store inside though we had not started sampling the wares. My brother was driving. It was about 2:00 AM. The road was completely open and straight, no other cars were present, and we had the radar detector on.

Suddenly my brothers starts cursing under his breath. "I think I passed a police car on the feeder." "So?" I replied. "If he was sitting there he didn't have his radar on."

My brother darkly replied "He wasn't sitting there. He was probably going about 60 mph and we passed him going about 100". Sure enough the lights come on in the distance.

We are pulled over and there are two highway patrolmen in a mustang. One was obviously a new rookie teamed up with a veteran. The rookie was practicing his intimidation routine with my brother having pulled him out of the car (in shorts, no shoes or shirt, and looking like cr*p) and was giving him all sorts of grief.

I was worried that the car not being in his name was a problem and so got out to explain that I was the owner. The veteran ran over yelling at me to get back in the car. I was able to stammer out that it was my car, I had let my brother drive, we hadn't been drinking (despite bottles piled up by the back window), etc. The vet stopped, looked me up and down, said "your car, huh?", paused, then asked "how does it run?".

"Like a spotted arsed baboon" I replied. "Want to see the engine?". His eyes lit up and he said "Sure! I've been reading about these things!". So I went over to the drivers side, popped the hood, and the vet and I huddled there going over the engine.

The rookie looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown. He was doing the intimidation factor by the book but here was his partner and one of the criminals chatting like best friends, ignoring him and talking about car engines! I wish I had a camera as he slowly changed from hard ass to stammering trying to get a grip on the situation.

The vet then said "want to see what we get to drive?". "Sure!" I replied and as we went over to his car he seemed to notice the rookie still standing there with my brother and said "Drop it. They're OK" as we passed.

My brother still got a ticket, though.
(BlahBlahBlah, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 2:11, Reply)

Not worth the effort.
On my 18th birthday a good friend of mine gave me a present that we both found hilarious; a street sign that originally read "Essex Road" but someone had gone over the first two letters with white paint. I didn't ask how he got it.

Walking home from my party, pissed up and struggling to carrying my road sign (which happens to be a large plank of wood with a ridiculously heavy piece of metal screwed onto it) i'm stopped by a police car pulling up to me. One of the two coppers inside sarcastically asked me if "I work for the council?" and "Is that the essex road sign for the street near here?". Drunk and confused I just blurted out "Nah it's okay, it's my birthday today. I live on sex road" then started giggling. After deliberating for a moment they let me go, the looks on their faces telling me I was too much of a loser to bother arresting. I still have the sign in my room.
(Robot. Home of the greasy bucket., Sat 24 Sep 2005, 1:11, Reply)

The Police
Well, I do think Sting is a bit stuck on himself. Just a little.
:-P
(thecatsonfire, Sat 24 Sep 2005, 0:39, Reply)

police
sadly the only contact i've ever had with the police was not very positive. i know they're human etc etc, but when at 8 you see a woman being dragged out of Safeways with her head bleeding (cos she'd just been smashed off the checkout by the coppers) and then forced into a car and *sat* on, all in front of her wee boy, just because the store manager thought she looked like someone who'd been banned for shoplifting, it doesn't inspire confidence.
also after some friends and i were beaten up for *no* reason, and the police tried to make out that we'd been causing trouble, i have no trust left for them.
oh, tree hugger, i think its called a watch pocket, when jeans were first invented/designed ppl used those watches on chains, and you put it either in your waistcoat or your watch pocket in your jeans.
ta da, ranty and factual!
(sarcasticgirl, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 23:41, Reply)

I've not had any trouble with the police for a few years.
The first time I met them was probably innocently seeing them on the street.

At the age of 8 I got my first police warning!

My brother and I love to climb the tree at the back of the garden. It connects our house to next door's. We saw an old looking bench at the back of their garden. Since we usually keep things we don't want at the back of our garden, we thought they didn't want that nice looking bench anymore. So with great difficulty my brother and I lifted it over the fence. (I was about 8 my bro was about 6) It then stayed in the middle of our garden for two weeks.

Parents did wonder where the extra bench came from.

Then one day one of our neighbours was over, he was asking to borrow something I think, then he saw our extra teeny bench. It turned out it was his and he likes that bench. The police came round and gave me a bit of a telling off and told me not to do it again.

Another time the police were after me when I was 11. Went out to the park with my best friend, decided "Fuck the park we're going to another friend's house." So in the rain we wen there, stayed an hour or two, then decided to go home once the rain had stopped. Ended up leaving home about 2pm and coming back home at 8pm. By which time my parents had called the Police.

Psssht, they should know I'm able to take care of meself and my friends.
( Rev. Cleo still alive, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 23:22, Reply)

I usually favour brevity, however....
A few years back, a bunch of us from work had taken over a couple of pub benches one evening and were enjoying a pre-party appertif. Out of the blue about a dozen plain clothes police raided our tables; seems they had witnessed one of our number - who we shall call Mr X - purchasing what they like to call "certain substances" earlier that day.

Mr X, who had indeed scored (and had been banging on about it all afternoon at work), held up one hand, put the other into the small pocket that's above the normal pocket on his jeans (a tad off topic, but if anyone knows what that stupid little pocket is for I'd love to know), and said something like:

"It's me, I've got an eighth in my pocket..."

A panic stricken look crossed his face and he started patting his pockets frantically, in the manner of someone who has lost their car keys.

"...er...", he continued

A couple of officers took him to one side, and the rest insisted on searching everyone else present. For some reason the quite nice-looking WPC wouldn't pat me down, no matter how nicely I asked her...

Since we were all clean, we were allowed to go. Mr X, on the other hand, was taken to the station and searched again. Thoroughly.

About four hours later, Mr X finally found his way to the party to which we had all been headed. It turns out, of course, that he had lost his gear earlier in the day, making him the only person I know to be arrested for NOT HAVING ANY DRUGS.
(tree hugger putting the "semen" in "basement"..., Fri 23 Sep 2005, 22:19, Reply)

Knife Wielding Maniac
We were shooting part of our year 12 coursework at the field / leisure centre near where i live, which involved my mate dressed all in black looking pretty damn scary and holding a fairly large hunting knife. So here we were at 5am walking across the field towards him filming with only the odd person walking their dog and chatting to us for company when along comes PC 'John Wayne on smack' who comes speeding round the car park and parks across the other side, ruining our shot. He gets out and sits behind his door 'taking stock of the situation' then decides to approach my mate and disarm and cuff him. He points out that we had been caught on CCTV with a knife. Maybe the people who saw it failed to notice we were clearly filming and not stabbing but never mind. So said knife gets melted down and my mate got taken to the nick only to be let out an hour later. This super policeman also decided that the camera was nicked and considered taking us all in but we talked him round eventually. Still, was funny explaining it to our teacher who uses us as the example to other students not to do twuntish things like us :)

This is the longest I have ever had so I shall on this occasion apologise. P.S i also apologise for the over-use of quotation marks.
(paintboy, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 22:01, Reply)

Redneck military sherrifs
You can tell when there's not enough crime in an area if a cop has to harass you for walking down the street. It was 1988 and I was 22. It was the safest and most boring new subdivision near Visalia California and it was only about 10:00 pm. I was walking and listening to my headphones when these lights come out of nowhere and shine on me from close behind. I turn around and all I hear is this voice saying "Are you ok?" I wanted to say, "No, I'm being strangled by these metal aliens on my head who are trying to take my brain out." Not seeing the siren due to the blinding lights from law enforcment heaven(or hell, take your pick), or the owner of the Voice, I start walking faster. The car follows, asking the same annoying question, so by this time I think it's some creep harassing me. Now I start running and the car follows. No siren, nothing. I run around the block to where there's a convenience store and try to duck down behind a counter to no avail. The car stops, I run out the back door and am stopped just two blocks from my aunt's house. Enter Barney Fife on crack, yelling at the top of his lungs. "How was I supposed to know you were a cop?" I protest, which falls on deaf ears. More yelling, cursing, threatening. I get shoved into the cop car and told he almost shot me in the leg. Then he had the audacity to tell me, "maybe you should come down to the station with me, to see there's nothing to be afraid of." Can we say IDIOT? I could have walked the two blocks to my aunt's house, but he wanted to show me who was boss. He even walked me up to the door and embarassed me in front of my aunt and uncle like I was a runaway. At least I got to keep my leg. A simple walk turned into a flippin' fiasco. All that was missing was the theme from NYPD Blue. Assholes.
(moonfire38, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 21:49, Reply)

Police
When I was a teenager, there was a local cop that used to bust kids for smoking weed. Back then you only got your parents called and at most a small fine. Then after he was off duty he'd take the weed with him to his own parties. I ended up sparking up a few with him. Hell for all I know, I was the one that paid for it in the first place!
(skrules, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 20:59, Reply)

About 6 months ago...
...I was driving home one night and was stopped by the police. Apparently I had my front fog lights on, which was news to me. The officer didn't believe that I had them on by accident. "I know what you lads are like - you think it looks cool to drive around with fog lights on." I'm not sure why he thought I was one of those gary-boy types. At the time I was wearing a tie and listening to Embrace.

The magistrates court hearing is on Wednesday.
(jacob, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 20:54, Reply)

A policeman in a meatwagon was looking at my hat and laughing at me earlier.
So I flicked him a V. He was quite shocked at this, but then the guy behind him gave me a little nod and a sympathetic glance, and the rest of the van seemed to share this expression. I think possibly he's the cunt of the squad.

I also had a policeman type all the details of the death threat I once received. He insisted on typing three pages of MSN conversation even though I'd given him the URL I'd put the file at. Silly bugger.
( Reid got it going on like Donkey Kong, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 20:49, Reply)

bicycle made for three.
I used to have a tandem bicycle. Lots of fun, and you can get up to four people on one by the two riders giving two others a 'backy'.

Four of us weaving up the road from the pub, get stopped by a copper. We all jump off the bike and wait for the lecture.

The copper looks at the two-seatered bike, surprised, and says "Ah sorry lads, I didn't realise it was built for four - carry on!"

So we all got back on the bike and carried on.
(inflateable, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 19:52, Reply)

car crash
My sister used to own a severly fucked Austin Allegro, with knackered suspension and an honestly-obtained but rather suspicious nonetheless MOT.

Anyway, my sis it driving along the street, when she see's a police car parked at the side of the road. 'Shit, I've not got my seatbelt on.'

As she struggles to put her belt on, for some reason she veers slightly, and drives straight into the back of the parked police car.

A big bang, the sound of broken glass and bent metal - she sits there nervously giggling to herself waiting for the policeman who's car it is to reappear and arrest her. After a minute or so, he doesn't show up.

So she reverses, pulling the police car's bumper off in the process, and carries on down the road. And gets away with it.

I'd love to have seen the policemans face when he got back to his car, and how he explained it back at the station..
(inflateable, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 19:47, Reply)

Busted & Breathalised!
Many years ago when living far far away, it was my friend's hen night. We dropped her toddler off at the baysitters and returned to find the drug squad on her doorstep - they'd apparently received a tip off that there were drugs on the premises (there was! - a bag of grass). They proceeded to search the place, sadly ignoring my confession that the drugs were stashed in the cat-litter tray. My pal picked up the bag of grass and a bag of sweets, offered me a sweet which I took, and then she announced that she had to tell her next door neighbour to cancel the taxi we'd ordered to take us out. Before the DS could stop her, she bolted out, ran next door, opened her neighbour's door, threw the bag of grass into the flat, and shouted "Cancel the taxi, we're going to be late. She then strolled back in eating the sweets! The DS didn't find anything either! Result!

We then went out and got completely wasted - naturally! Later, her hubby to be came to pick us up, he had to stop the car in a hurry cos me & my mate were about to do the 5-fingered spray all over the car. With the car stopped, plod appeared and asked why he'd done an emergency stop on an empty road. He tried to explain, but the plod insisted on breathalysing him. They must have smelled the booze stench in the car - us not him!

Predictably, I let fly all down the back of the passenger seat and his breath test was clear! Two brushes with the law in one night!

First post btw. No apologies............ever!
(BlackAjah, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 19:34, Reply)

Ukrainian rozzers
I've never had any problems with the police in the UK, but managed to get in trouble several times with their Ukrainian brethren.

The funniest incident was getting arrested by two very young and embarassed policemen for having sex outside a club by the beach where my girlfriend and I had been celebrating our engagement. Dawn had risen while we were at it and we ended up in quite plain view of the passers by. Ah well. They actually used the 'What do you think you're doing?' line. I did consider a sarcastic response but didn't really feel as though I had the upper hand in the situation, being stark naked and having just emerged from the nether parts of the girlfriend. After locating our clothes among the bushes and recovering from the embarassment we bunged them $50 and they decided they hadn't seen anything after all.

I was walking down the street one evening with a couple of mates (also English) when a rusty old anonymous van driving in the other direction screeched to a halt. The occupants started shouting at us to stop but we kept our heads down and kept walking. Moments later, several obviously drunk blokes in civilian clothes had piled out of the van and grabbed us, closely followed by a policeman with a large gun which he proceeded (rather unfairly, I thought) to hit us with. They kept trying to push us into their van with the butt of the gun but we knew that once they get you to the station, you don't get out without paying a hefty 'fine' (not to mention losing a day of your life waiting for someone to come and vouch for you before you can be released). My mate had a couple of hundred dollars on him that he really didn't want to contribute to the off-duty coppers' vodka fund. We played dumb and pretended we couldn't speak any Russian while they asked us for our documents (which we were legally obliged to carry with us, but didn't have). Happy ending though as they eventually gave up and drove erratically away.

I was a member of the local Hash House Harriers and almost every run one or two of our members would get arrested for not having their passports on them. Where are you supposed to keep it when you're out running - up your arse?

The scariest incident was being arrested for carrying a canister of CS gas in my luggage when flying back to Blighty. I'd been given it by a friendly old lady who thought I might need it for protection and thought it would be a novelty item to hold on to. The game was up when they asked me to show them the 'deodorant' that they'd spotted on the x-ray machine. I got carted off to their office at the airport where they kept pushing me to pay a 'fine' (despite suspiciously not issuing any paperwork) but finally dropped it when realising I was leaving the country without a kopeck (or dollar) left in my wallet. Just made my plane with minutes to spare.

No apologies for length - you love it. Just like my girlfriend did on the beach.
( numberbruncher - correct by nature, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 19:16, Reply)

My first arrest
I was speeding down a busy highway in my new SHO when I hear the familiar sound behind me. My heart sank as I had an unpaid ticket for which I had the bond money in my pocket and intended on taking care of the next day.

Worse came after I was stopped as the officer was apparently p*ssed off that he couldn't have caught me if I hadn't noticed him and slowed down. He was red in the face and literally screaming. He calmed down a bit when I admitted that there was a warrant when he started back to the car to run my license. Probably because he was happy that he could arrest me for something rather than just giving me a ticket.

Whle he was writing the ticket I started chatting with him. It came up that I had an accounting background and we discussed some tax problems/questions that he had. After the paperwork was complete he actually apologized but said that he had to take me in anyway. He did let me drive my car to a secure parking lot so that it wouldn't get towed, and while he didn't let me ride in the front he didn't handcuff me and left the window between the front and back open so that I could lean through it and continue chatting.

When we reached the station he stated that he was getting off shift but that he put in a good word for me. Then the fun began.

The temporary holding cells were already fairly full, but the officers inside cleared everyone out of one so that I could have my own cell. All of the other prisoners were staring at me wide-eyed and whispering amongst themselves. The conversation was probably that the assumed that I was some sort of mass murderer from the looks of fear that they were giving me.

Luckily I had the bond money on me so I only had to wait for the processing wheels to finally start turning. That it was a change of shift didn't help anything as the new shift had to have their couple of hours of coffee, donuts, and chatting to take care of.

Somehow the word amongst the police officers got garbled. Instead of "don't give him any hassles" somehow the story got changed to that I was a major bigwig banker and that everyone should be very respectful. So during the check out proceedings I had a group of officers clearing the way everywhere I went and they were always politely saying "this way, sir", "please step this way, sir" in very nice voices.

The other prisoners looked like they were about to fall over. Mouths were literally haging open. I can imagine the discussions after I left. A mass murderer that the police were fawning over!

Unfotunately the pleasant experience did not carry over to the trial. The judge proceeded to call me an idiot for getting myself arrested when I had the bail money in my pocket.
(BlahBlahBlah, Fri 23 Sep 2005, 19:02, Reply)

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

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

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

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