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)