Dogging! Bright Lights! Terror!
This is a pretty recent tale about dogging. Dogging, for the more innocent amongst you, is the practice of meeting in lonely car parks or lay bys to indulge in al fresco sex with strangers. I am not a practitioner of this.

However, I was driving home late one night, and was about 50 miles from home. I always have really shit cars, and this was no exception. It was overheating, smoke was pouring from the vents, so I pulled into a deserted car park to allow it to cool down and to pour specially bottled water into the radiator.

While sitting there, I turned on my interior light and thought, well, I may as well take the opportunity to skin up. So I did. Not being in a hurry, I rolled a lovely joint, sparked it, cranked up the tunes a little and relaxed.

I leant down to try and find a cd, but as I was truffling about the floor I was surrounded by light. Figuring that aliens were unlikely to be involved I leapt up, banged my head on the mirror, saw a police Galaxy outside with full beam searchlight pointing into my car, swore, burnt my hand on the joint, stubbed it into an ashtray and flew out of the car, moving more quickly than Linford with a red hot poker up his bum.

"Yes, Officer?" I enquired, trying to look law abiding. "What are you doing?" "Oh, just having a rest, my car's overheating." Anyway, a lengthy conversation followed, in which it was insinuated that I was a pervert (although not far from the truth, I do draw the line at trying to fuck strangers in car parks).

Eventually they told me to go home, I agreed (perhaps even saluting) and as I gently pulled away, I relit my spliff, put my foot down and disappeared before Stan Collymore had a chance to accost me.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Fri 21 Sep 2007, 12:00, Reply)