^^this
A dozen years ago I was extended an invitation to appear in front of a panel of three Magistrates and was given the opportunity to explain why I felt it necessary to conduct my motorcycle at 109MPH along almost two miles of Her Majesty's best tarmac.

I wore my best suit, was freshly shorn and shaved, and was exceedingly polite to any court official I encountered, especially the three beaks at the front of the room. I duly admitted my guilt and subsequent remorse (there was absolutely no way I could get away with pleading Not Guilty short of some moronic technicality, and I didn't know about things like technicalities back then), and vowed solemnly that it was a momentary lapse of judgement and would never, ever happen again, cross my heart. Also, while determining sentencing, would the Court please take into consideration the fact that in the two months between foolishly committing the offence and the date of the trial I had been offered a new job, which was conditional on my being able to drive (this was actually true; I didn't have to lie)?

The Magistrates left the room for a fag/tea break their deliberations and returned a few minutes later to issue their verdict. In their armoury of punishments they had at their disposal the following: a fine of up to £1,000, up to six penalty points on my license, and a disqualification of up to six months. A pretty stiff punishment, all things considered. What they actually gave me was a mere smack on the wrist in comparison.

£250, nil points, and two weeks' disqualification.

I wrote the cheque there and then, all the while biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from grinning like a loon.

It could easily have been much, much worse. If I'd given the arresting officer any grief he might have told the truth on the report, and I'd have been facing jail time. I recently spoke with a barrister chum of mine over drinks and recalled the incident. He immediately offered the opinion that the arresting officer lied through his teeth, committed perjury, perverted the course of justice, and all that malarkey, and that I should be down on my knees thanking my lucky stars that he had done so.

You see, what I didn't know at the time (but which my barrister pal explained to me many years later) was the sentencing guidelines given to Magistrates for speeding offences. Apparently, if one is up on a charge of 110MPH or greater the reward is time inside.

The motorcycle was new, and the speedometer was still accurate and hadn't yet started to over-read (I later tested it with a GPS receiver stuffed in the map window on the top of my tank bag).

I'd actually been doing 124, flat-out. The bike wouldn't go any faster.

Politeness costs nothing, but can reap rewards. And when in court, wear the right costume, follow the stage directions, and say the right lines. It's the performance of a lifetime.
( flake has nothing against your right leg, Wed 23 Jun 2010, 22:55, Reply)