I've only ever had one run in with the law
and I would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for the pesky milkman.

After a heavy drinking session at the university in lancaster, I started the long walk back the the town of lancaster where I lived. Alcohol turned me into THIEF EXTRAORDINAIRE.

Actually, it turned me into a fuckwit. Wandering past the newsagent, a pile of newspapers had been delivered sitting outside. So I had myself one o'them for the morning.
Impressed with my dangerous living(and lightheaded from the cold air), I came across a rather pretty stone owl in a backgarden, and yoiiiiink it was in my pocket.
Now I was on a roll, a rampaging stroller of CRIIIIIME. I was thirsty, and I happened to note the milk had been delivered. Excellent.
I nabbed a bottle of milk and carried on my way, all in all I decided that enough was enough and I should quit while I'm ahead as a buzzing in my head turned into a slow whine.
Louder and Louder.
NYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Suddenly a milk float came out of nowhere(well, kind of) and a wrinkly fist shot out of the cab yelling a victory shout of "Gorra!" which I think is greek for "Boo!".
I was caught! This 70 year old milkman had me by my shirt and I was trapped. I was unafraid, whats the worst that can happen for a pint of milk? On the other hand, I had a stone statue of an owl in my pocket which could conceivably be expensive. Donning my thinking cap, I sneakily chucked it under the milk float making a rather clever *clunk* *clunk* *thunk*. Yes, my evil genius mind told me, theres no way he noticed that. Evil Genius told me to offer to pay for the milk and be apologetic, surely he could see I was just a scabby drunk student who regretted his crime?
Sadly, No. With a radio message to get the police and with pointy finger treatment I was informed that milk had been gone missing along this street for almost a month and the milkman had lain in ambush(Because Milk Floats are the ambush vehicle of choice naturally). This was perhaps bad, I was now Bovine Enemy Number One, I was apparantly the Don Giovanni of black market milk. I was getting a bit worried now(I should point out I had never stolen anything in my life up to this point), and morally I had reached a crossroads. OAP Milk Vigilante had a strong grip sure enough, but a good pull or push, and perhaps I could be away. However, looking at the guy, who seemed to be a bit sepia toned already, I decided that there was at least 25% chance milk theft would be Murder 1 and I couldn't face myself.

Suddenly, Raaaaaaarrrrrrrr Lancaster Constabulary had seen fit that the Don Milkovani needed the sodding RIOT VAN treatment, metal caged van tears up and I'm handed over to the police. I'm sure I heard the milkman cackle a bit as he mentioned there was something thrown under the van.... aah bugga.

The copper manhandles me a bit, arm behind the back treatment and lobs me in the back, and I was so frightened a tiny bit of wee came out.

Off we drive... and frankly, I'm a bit of a wuss, and I'm in tears in the back, thinking I'm going off for life imprisonment, and soapy showers. We get to the police station, and I'm processed, and the contents of my coat emptied, newspaper, 8 cigarettes and a lighter.
I sit in the holding cell for about an hour first, as the officer chucks in a rather nice prostitute called Vicky(name not changed, because I'd be protecting the guilty) with me. Prostitute gets pulled out 10 minutes later, signs something, and tells them she's gagging for a ciggie. Police officer shouts over to me "Oi! Is it ok if we let vicky have one of your cigarettes!".
Thinking its not a good idea to be selfish at this point, I reply with an affirmative girly whimper and nod.
Then they gave a ciggie to a member of the nighttime admin staff for their break.
Homeless guy gets the rest of my ciggies.

2 Hours Later...after a bit of an interview(where I absolutely agreed with everything he said, whimpered some more) and fingerprints taken, nicotineless, policeman drives me around to the house where I nicked the owl and tells me to put the owl back from where I got it.
Relieved he opens the window and tells me "Now don't do this again!" and drives off... leaving me pretty much the same 4 miles away from as when I started this whole business.

I went home and passed out.

Would do a length joke, but it'd be a bit lame by now.
(NoMoreFaith can believe its not bloody butter, Sun 25 Sep 2005, 21:00, Reply)