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This is a question I witnessed a crime

Freddy Woo writes, "A group of us once staggered home so insensible with drink that we failed to notice someone being killed and buried in a shallow grave not more than 50 yards away. A crime unsolved to this day."

Have you witnessed a crime and done bugger all about it? Or are you a have-a-go hero?
Whatever. Tell us about it...

(, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 11:53)
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Weird Sexual Practices, Drugs, Rock ‘n’ Roll and Violence…what more could a B3tan ask for??

Disclaimer: Even by my standards this is a biggun – so please get comfy…and I count about a dozen crimes of differing severity coming up in total…all witnessed, some committed by me, all in one night and all 100% true.

When I was 17 I was the keyboard player in a local band – we did alright, mainly because the populations of all the local schools would come and pay £2 entrance fee for the fun of underage drinking, youthful copulation…and time depending, to see the band.

My brother had a very important role to play at our gigs…He was older than all of us and looked like a cross between me and a ruthless sadistic maniac who was harder than a concrete block on Viagra. He was our security guard.

Sure, he nicked a load of the band money to get him and his mates pissed, and he glory sponged off the band’s success to ‘fire in’ with the laydees, but he protected the band and the gear, and one of his mates would drive me about - so that was enough.

We played one such gig in Rugby and it was a triumph – packed with 1000+ screaming drunken kids (I think I actually stagedived!) We played impressively…but more important I got pissed out of my tits. Yay.

Post gig, my brother, his mate and I drive into town for some chow. It was on the way that my caring sharing bro decided to introduce me to the deep joys of acid tabs. You’ll soon discover I picked a doozy of a night to have my first trip.

After a while we were all sat on a wall by the road…kebabbing like a frenzy and starting to whizz nicely along when a fight kicks off about 100 yards from us. It starred your typical Neanderthal brain-swap experiment type, smacking some small unfortunate chap before turning on his own girlfriend.

We didn’t intervene…we didn’t have to...this huge wank-barrel had a proper one on him. ‘What are you fuckin’ lookin’ at?’ He spat at us from across the street.

We said nothing.

Knuckles dragging and bloodied missus in tow, he comes over to us and starts mouthing off…and with the archetypal hallmark of the bully…he looked for the smallest bloke to pick on.

He glanced past me…nope…he glanced at my brother…nope...he glanced at the sober chap with glasses…’that’ll do’ he thought, and he punched our mate in the face, knocking him off the wall.

Either cowardice, drunkenness or a combination of both prevented me from doing anything other than stand up in defence. However, quicker than Bran flakes through my dodgy bowels, my brother launches himself up and knocks the spack of Gibraltar to the floor.

As I attend to our mate, my brother is promptly rewarded for his chivalry with a stiletto to the back of the head and a shriek of ‘Leave ‘im alone…eeee’s pisssssed!’

She then starts dragging her beloved mound of weapons-grade arse-banana across the road and we decide it’s time to for us pick up our friend and go.

Now with the adrenaline of the scuffle, the excitement of the gig, the beer and the acid pumping through our veins we collectively agree that we’re not quite ready to call it a night just yet.

My mate had some beer in the car. We drove to a lake near my rent’s house that had a kiddie’s play area by it where we could drink our cans. At this point it was about 1:30 am and we thought the chances of there being any kids playing at that time were pretty minimal.

What we did see, however, was a sight I will unfortunately take with me to my grave. (This section is sort of a pearoast – soz)

You had to cross a little bridge to get to the play area and as we approached it, in the light of the full moon. We saw an old, bearded man stood there with his trousers round his ankles, wanking himself off feverishly towards the play area. Wanking like his life depended on it…wanking for England and the known universe. Wanking so hard, in fact, that it must have hurt.

This was not an acid hallucination…this was real…and we, quite rightly, freaked.right.out.

“Oi, Wotcha think ya doin?’” We shouted.

The pud-puller turned round startled, tripped over his kex and fell over. He then gathered up his pants, turned on his heels and sped off into the night.

We didn’t laugh or say anything at first…we just stood there with our mouths wide open and stared at each other in disbelief.

This was one fucked up night.

We sat on a picnic table by the play area and started to recount the events of the evening as we drank our cans…. My brother and I were now full-on ratarsed and as we headed back into the car, my brother dared me to jump in the lake.

“Fuck off!” I politely answered.

“Fair enough” he said, and promptly walked into the lake himself

“Fine” I said, and followed him in, fully clothed.

As we waded deeper and deeper into the lake, we were now about 50 metres away from the shore and the water was just up to my chin.

Of course, we all thought this was very good drunken fun, splashing around and had a whale of a time…right up until the lightning started flashing and the rain started pissing down…then it kicked in with the acid very nicely, and I considered the best thing to do was to get really fucking scared really fucking quickly.

The resulting electric storm was the final straw and I was talked out from the lake and back to the car, dripping wet, in the rain, with no means to dry us…upon which our designated driver friend said, “You’re not getting in my car like that!”

It was about 3 miles of country lanes back to my folks’ house, and with the unique brand of idiocy saved only for these such occasions, we decided that the best thing to do would be to sit on the bonnet and hold on for dear life as our friend drove us…so that’s what we did.

He told us later he had hit about 50mph… as he drove past the police college we had forgotten about. We then sped into the village and were rapidly reported to the police by everybody who saw us.

Our mate stopped out side my house and we climbed off the bonnet, still wringing wet. As we discussing our next meeting and the fact that we had survived the night, the police turned up…and turned up…and turned up

From both ends of the road there approached a line of 4 policemen, then 2 cars, then another row with dogs.

Oh bollocks.

I was petrified with fear. I didn’t have a clue what was going to happen. Fortunately, my brother had more experience in these matters.

One of the rozzers approached us, looked at our mate, sober and dry, and then the other two twats…pissed, tripping and soaking wet. As he gazed at the two wet bum marks on the bonnet, he asked:

“So who’s been riding on the bonnet then?” (Even I tutted at that remark – nice one Sherlock!)

“Nobody” Said my brother, as another couple of coppers grabbed our mate and proceeded to go through his car with a fine toothed comb whilst breathalysing the crap out of him

“How come you’re both soaking?” He asked.

“We’ve been swimming in the lake” my brother said

“Do you know you’re not supposed to go in there?” snarled a female copper in my direction.

“Erm…sorry” I muttered.

“I knew, but I went in anyway!” My brother proudly states with a big smile, oblivious to the quacks of fear emanating from my arse.

(Here’s the thing, I wasn’t aware of this at the time, but this particular lake is a dumping ground for loads of dodgy chemicals and wotnot. So while it wasn’t actually illegal to go in there…in Darwin awards fashion, you’re just a stupid twat if you do)

So picture the scene…After a night like that, I’m young and naive, in the middle of a police raid, wringing wet, pissed and tripping – what could be the worst thing that could possibly happen at this point?

Yep – My mum opened the front door in her nightie.

Rubbing her squinting eyes, she squawks “Pooflaaaaake? Pooflaaake? Is that you?”

Oh sweet fucking Jesus…the shame of it all…I’m sure I heard a couple of the coppers giggle.

“Get in the house, for fuck’s sake” my brother tells me – the police let me go in.

As I wander over and approach my mum, the acid gives the appearance of her head lurching towards me, making shapes like she's in a hall of mirrors.

My brother is soon let off too, and my mate’s breath test is negative so they haven’t really got a leg to stand on. It’s all over

I crawl up stairs, my poster of Freddy Krueger is moving on the wall, paranoia starts to kick in and I quickly forget about the scene outside. Every time I close my eyes I get lights flashing in my eyes and a whooshing feeling like I’m flying down the trench at the end of Star Wars.

At this point, despite it being stupid o’clock, I switch my TV on and have the sudden urge to try and write a song about what had transpired that night*, I plug my guitar in, turn the amp up, press my plectrum to the first string…

And there was a power cut.

“Bollocks to this” I say to myself, and go to bed…to lie there quivering with my eyes open for the next 7 hours.

And I wonder why I’m now so fucked up.

Apologies for length specially go out to…well, you know who you are…and I tried to keep it brief…REALLY I did!

* I did get to write a song about it the next day – it was called ‘Headaches and Deep Lakes’ and it wasn’t very good
(, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 19:41, 8 replies)
What a story.

You've lived a full life, haven't you petal.
(, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 19:58, closed)
I think..
"dragging her beloved mound of weapons-grade arse-banana"

made it for me.
(, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 20:41, closed)
that really was massive! Well told (as usual). Am now trying to imagine the lyrics to that song.
(, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 20:45, closed)
I counted 7.

Excellent story no doubt, I'm just curious as to what 12 crimes you think occured (I had a law lecture today, I'm counting this as revision)

(, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 22:45, closed)
Well that explains a lot!
I just thought your mutant visage was due to some unfortunate accident! I didn't know that you'd swam in Ryton pools, that "water" is ......well "not of drinkable quality" is the best that can be said for it.

(, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 22:46, closed)
Thanks Cap...

I go all the way through the post not mentioning Ryton Pools by name...cleverly renaming it 'the lake' and you go and blurt it out!

but for the record...to this day I have those chemicals to thank for my superhero powers, my hyper-intelligence and unfeasibly massive cock...

Didn't you take a swim in there once?

...well, up to the waist anyway.
(, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 23:07, closed)
I surely...
can't quite beleive how you escaped that episode with the function to breath!!! Simpsons 3 eyed fish lake...
(, Fri 15 Feb 2008, 1:26, closed)
I haven't read but the first 3 lines
and I thought, this has got to be Pooflake, Citadel or Legless.

Or maybe the new guy that's so hilarious; what's his name?
(, Fri 15 Feb 2008, 1:30, closed)

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