KFC! Racism! Arrest! Innocence!
Back at the Good Old KFC...

Danny and I worked with our mate Martin, a black guy who was our manager. He persisted in calling us Honkies and we naturally engaged in the banter by way of making regular references to Slavery.

We regularly used to borrow money out of the tills to go out with before payday, and put it back the next morning and occasionally we'd empty the safe and pretend gamble with the dosh.

One day, however, the Old Bill turned up, seized me and excorted me out of the front door, my hands in cuffs. I was concerned, as not only had they nicked me on suspicion of theft there were loads of drugs in my bedroom.

As I left the building I was seen by a number of friends who happened to be walking to the pub. I was applauded and cat-called in equal measure and my affected cockiness did not endear me to the coppers. Inwardly I was panicking. Fortunately though, Danny sprinted to my house and removed my stash.

I got to the station and a great many questions were asked of me. I was unaware of their purpose, but eventually managed to understand a large sum of money was missing from the safe.

Danny was given the same treatment the next day, our homes were searched, but obviously nothing was found to incriminate us, largely as we were innocent.

We eventually discovered that Martin, improving on our pretend gambling, had borrowed all the cash from the safe the night before payday and gone gambling at the dog track. He had been caught out by a completely unannounced stock take. They had also noticed a lot of missing fillets and special breading (I actually had nicked them).

Martin was fired, but had mentioned our pretend gambling. Our bosses called us in and spoke to us at length; they didn't rant and rave, but were quietly disappointed.

Danny and I felt only inches tall and reformed our behaviour; not stealing, stripping or doing anything unsavoury for 3 days.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Fri 21 Sep 2007, 11:08, Reply)