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

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

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

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

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