Since becoming a Muslim recently, this blog will take a slightly different direction. No longer will it be about having extra marital relations with loose moralled women nor will it feature midgets or problems with my bodily functions.
No, I will just use it spread the good word of Allah. Praise him!
Tuesday, 7 June 2011
Wednesday, 29 October 2008
Arrested Re-Development: Part 2
OK, Part 2. I couldn't be bothered to write this for ages because it's such a fucking long story.
A few Saturdays ago I did my usual trick of using watching Reading play some other bunch of cunts as an excuse to go drinking from midday until i could take no more on sunday. It's not so much an excuse but a necessary evil- I went to football sober the other night and was bored off my tits! I digress, I spent the day and night of that Saturday milling from bar to bar with a few mates before ending the night at the well known, premier Reading dive nightlub; The Afterdark, which, happily enough, is just around the corner from my house.
So, 5 of my mates and I filed out the club at kicking out time and I told everyone to come back to mine to continue the nights festivities. I walked down the street with a new found lady friend on my arm, whilst my chums went through the late night weekly ceremony of tryng to mop up any lonely, single girls left outside the club before they flagged a taxi home, which, as anyone who's been to The After Dark will testify, is a soul destroying but entirely necessary process unless, of course, you want to go home feeling that your whole night has been a one long drunken nightmare of getting shouted at by an angry Carribbean bouncer because he thinks it's you whose souly responsible for flooding the toilet with piss before he pushes you out the door and into a smoking area the size of a childs shoe box.
I made my way up the briskly up the street. My house is but 5 minutes walk away but I wanted to do it in double time as I was dying for a piss and really wasn't prepared to get my socks wet for a second time by using the facilities in the After Dark just before they were going to throw us out into the street. I got to the front door and reached into my pocket fo my door key. It wasn't there. I ripped out my pockets and placed everything I had into my companions cupped hands; chewing gum, my wallet, screwed up notes, my phone, rolled up notes, bits of paper, lots of change, more chewing gum, but no fucking key.
"Ah for fucks sake!" I said in desperation.
"Don't worry, Hun. Won't you're brother will be back soon? I'm sure he'll have key", replied my sensible, far less drunk friend.
"Ah ha! You're right!" I responded with relief. I had completely forgotten that I live with my brother and although i had lost my doorkeys during the days adventure, he would surely have one.
I waited patiently for all of 13 seconds. "Where the fuck is he? I'm dying for a piss!" There was still no sign of him after 20 seconds, so I took my phone back off the girl and gave him a call; "John, where the fuck are you?
"We're just in a taxi to Murco to get some booze. Do you want anything?"
"Yeah, I want you to hurry the fuck back here and open the house. I've lost my key, it's cold and I really need a piss! Oh and get me a bottle of vodka an some lemonade. And hurry the fuck up!"
"Yeah yeah! We'll be as long as it takes." he replied before we both hung up on eachother.
I couldn't wait for him to get back from the booze garage. It was 5 minutes each way in the taxi and that wasn't even allowing time for them to bumble their way around the shop looking at porn and 7 different kinds of crisps. I was gonna have to piss in my front garden with my female friend watching. I call it a garden but really it's a space that extends two foot fom the front of the house to a low wall that divides it from the pavement.
"Divert your eyes, Sweetheart. I'm gonna have to go here", I said with fag hanging out my mouth whilst undoing my jean buttons and readying myself for the flow. I turned around to face the wall of the house and started pissing up against it beneath the front window. A surge of relief ran over my nether regions as a long, sallow 5 pint piss jet hit the wall and splashed down onto the cracked patio stones of the front garden.
"Excuse me! What do you think you are doing?" came a voice that wasn't my lady friends.
"I'm having a slash, what does..." I began before looking round to see a two policemen.
"Yes, i can see that but what do you think you're doing going to the toilet on the street?" said the copper.
"The street?" i replied, "The street?" I said again for emphasis, "This isn't the street. This is my house and my garden." I gestured with my free hand as if waving an arm to illustrate a vast expense of land, whilst carrying on with my piss. "I lost my keys and got caught short, so i'm having to go here".
"Well stop it now and put it away. I'm sure you realise it's an offence to urinate in the street."
"Um, yes I am aware of that but i'm not urinating in the street. I'm urinating on my own house. See? The urine hasn't gone anywhere near the street. It's just going down the cracks in my patio."
"You're urinating in a public place and i'm going to have to give you an on-the-spot fine."
"A fine, dear Sir? Is that really necessary? I have explained that there are extenuating circumstances, so can you not find it in your heart to exercise a little bit of discretion in this instance and we'll all go on our merry way, my good fellow?" Is perhaps what I would have said if I was less drunk and living in the Victorian era, but instead I exclaimed indignantly;
"A fine! A fucking fine! You can't give me a fine for pissing on my own house. It's private property, for fucks sake! That's fucking ridiculous!" I then noticed that he was a PCSO and that his silent companion was the real policeman. I foolishly decided to try and converse with the organ grinder and not the monkey. "Is this a wind up? Or some training exercise? This guy can't give me a fine for pissing on my own fucking property?
"I'm afraid he can, Sir. And if you don't stop swearing we can arrest you." Well this was an aural red rag to a bull. I'm usually a placid person but am prone to bouts of rage when faced with idiocy of the highest order. Especially when drunk.
"I can't believe this. Firstly, he's writing out a fine because I got caught short and pissed in my own garden and secondly, because I've rightly got a bit annoyed about the whole thing you're threatening to arrest me for swearing. If you two had any common sense you'd have just walked on without this bullshit."
"Last warning, Sir!"
"Right i won't swear anymore but i hope you two power mongers can sleep at night. And look at him writing that with his little notebook and pencil like he's a real policeman! Ah bless!"
"Come on, Paul just leave it" said my friend.
"Yes come on, Paul. Listen to your girlfriend. I'm gonna need to take some details" said the PCSO with a noticeable smirk that only served to bhoy my sense of injustice.
"You're loving this aren't you? Is this really what you signed up for?"
"I'm just doing my job?" He replied
"Your job? Your job should be making sure peole aren't lumping 7 shades of shite out of eachother around the corner, not fining me for pissing on my own house. And besides, it's not even a real job!"
He ignored this insult and asked for my full name, which I gave to him.
"And your full address please?" he asked
"You're stood outside it!" I said in disbelief. "That's my whole point!"
"Can you just state your full address please?"
"Right, fair enough" I said whilst walking closer to the wall dividing us to get a closer look at what he was writing. "Are you gonna write this down then? My address is; Piss House. Number 1 Toilet Street. Reading. Berkshire. RG1 1PP."
He stopped witing on the pad and looked up to see my face, smiling from ear to ear at the childishness of my own crappy joke.
"Very amusing. What's you're real address?"
I had no intention of making it easy for him.
"Well, you see that number on the door? Thats the number I live at. And you see that road sign attached to this here wall? That's the road I live on." He continued to ask me a few more questions as I lit another cigarette and chatted to my friend about the ridiculousness of the situation, though she was more interested in an ending being brought to it rather than it's ridiculous nature.
"Just be quiet and take the bloody ticket!" she said impatiently.
"I'm gonna have to, by the looks of things!" I replied.
The policeman called me for my attention, reeled off a long legal speil and gave me the ticket. With that, my brother taxi pulled up outside the house and got out with 3 friends, all sans women. "What's going on?" he asked.
"This muppet has given me a £90 fine for pissing in our garden. It's fucking ridiculous!"
The real copper sprang into action. I had given him the excuse he was waiting for; "Right, you've been warned! I'm arresting you under Section 5 of The Public Order Act for swearing at a Police Officer and for being drunk and disorderly!"
"WHAT! I might be drunk but i'm not disorderly. I'm just trying to get into my house" I said pathetically as the realisation that I had let this stupid situation slide into the farcical set in. My brother and friends argued the toss but it wasn't making a difference.
He came around into the garden and made me turn around whilst he put cuffs on me. I had fought the law and the law had won. I wasn't going to aggrievate the situation by struggling or resisting arrest but I'm afraid my mouth went into overdrive "THIS IS FUCKING OUTRAGEOUS! YOU'RE ARRESTING ME FOR PISSING ON MY OWN HOUSE".
"No, you got a fine for that. I'm arresting you for swearing at a police officer."
I DIDN'T SWEAR AT A POLICE OFFICER. I SAID THAT THIS WAS FUCKING RIDICULOUS AND IT IS. Oh and, by the way, you've just stepped in my piss! Ha ha!"
My girlfriend stood with her head in her hands before announcing that she was going inside.
"Laura, you work at the Evening Post" I said "write an article about this fucking nonsense!"
"Paul, It's Lauren and I told you ages ago that I just work in the advertising section. You don't listen! And besides- do you really want people to read about this in the paper?" she said before shaking her head and turning on her heels towards the now open front door.
"Just listen to your, girlfriend, mate!" said the policeman as he led me to the police car that had now arrived.
"I'm not your fucking mate. And she's not my girlfriend!".
I then noticed that the next door neighbours were looking out the window at this whole scene. Rather than not make any further fuss I drunkenly decided to tell them what an incredible injustice was unfolding before their eyes, just in case they thought I was a drug dealer or a paedophile or worse, "THEY'RE ARRESTING ME FOR PISSING ON MY OWN GARDEN. RIDICULOUS, ISN'T IT?" PISSING ON MY OWN BLOODY HOUSE!!!" and with that they shut the curtains and the policeman ducked my head into the car for the 2nd time in a fortnight.
To compound my misery, as the car moved off down the street and I peered out thw window, I was faced with the heartbreaking sight of my grinning brother at the doorway with my bottle of vodka in one arm and my new found lady friend in the other, with my friends waving sarcastically behind them.
Everyone, except me, is a bastard!
A few Saturdays ago I did my usual trick of using watching Reading play some other bunch of cunts as an excuse to go drinking from midday until i could take no more on sunday. It's not so much an excuse but a necessary evil- I went to football sober the other night and was bored off my tits! I digress, I spent the day and night of that Saturday milling from bar to bar with a few mates before ending the night at the well known, premier Reading dive nightlub; The Afterdark, which, happily enough, is just around the corner from my house.
So, 5 of my mates and I filed out the club at kicking out time and I told everyone to come back to mine to continue the nights festivities. I walked down the street with a new found lady friend on my arm, whilst my chums went through the late night weekly ceremony of tryng to mop up any lonely, single girls left outside the club before they flagged a taxi home, which, as anyone who's been to The After Dark will testify, is a soul destroying but entirely necessary process unless, of course, you want to go home feeling that your whole night has been a one long drunken nightmare of getting shouted at by an angry Carribbean bouncer because he thinks it's you whose souly responsible for flooding the toilet with piss before he pushes you out the door and into a smoking area the size of a childs shoe box.
I made my way up the briskly up the street. My house is but 5 minutes walk away but I wanted to do it in double time as I was dying for a piss and really wasn't prepared to get my socks wet for a second time by using the facilities in the After Dark just before they were going to throw us out into the street. I got to the front door and reached into my pocket fo my door key. It wasn't there. I ripped out my pockets and placed everything I had into my companions cupped hands; chewing gum, my wallet, screwed up notes, my phone, rolled up notes, bits of paper, lots of change, more chewing gum, but no fucking key.
"Ah for fucks sake!" I said in desperation.
"Don't worry, Hun. Won't you're brother will be back soon? I'm sure he'll have key", replied my sensible, far less drunk friend.
"Ah ha! You're right!" I responded with relief. I had completely forgotten that I live with my brother and although i had lost my doorkeys during the days adventure, he would surely have one.
I waited patiently for all of 13 seconds. "Where the fuck is he? I'm dying for a piss!" There was still no sign of him after 20 seconds, so I took my phone back off the girl and gave him a call; "John, where the fuck are you?
"We're just in a taxi to Murco to get some booze. Do you want anything?"
"Yeah, I want you to hurry the fuck back here and open the house. I've lost my key, it's cold and I really need a piss! Oh and get me a bottle of vodka an some lemonade. And hurry the fuck up!"
"Yeah yeah! We'll be as long as it takes." he replied before we both hung up on eachother.
I couldn't wait for him to get back from the booze garage. It was 5 minutes each way in the taxi and that wasn't even allowing time for them to bumble their way around the shop looking at porn and 7 different kinds of crisps. I was gonna have to piss in my front garden with my female friend watching. I call it a garden but really it's a space that extends two foot fom the front of the house to a low wall that divides it from the pavement.
"Divert your eyes, Sweetheart. I'm gonna have to go here", I said with fag hanging out my mouth whilst undoing my jean buttons and readying myself for the flow. I turned around to face the wall of the house and started pissing up against it beneath the front window. A surge of relief ran over my nether regions as a long, sallow 5 pint piss jet hit the wall and splashed down onto the cracked patio stones of the front garden.
"Excuse me! What do you think you are doing?" came a voice that wasn't my lady friends.
"I'm having a slash, what does..." I began before looking round to see a two policemen.
"Yes, i can see that but what do you think you're doing going to the toilet on the street?" said the copper.
"The street?" i replied, "The street?" I said again for emphasis, "This isn't the street. This is my house and my garden." I gestured with my free hand as if waving an arm to illustrate a vast expense of land, whilst carrying on with my piss. "I lost my keys and got caught short, so i'm having to go here".
"Well stop it now and put it away. I'm sure you realise it's an offence to urinate in the street."
"Um, yes I am aware of that but i'm not urinating in the street. I'm urinating on my own house. See? The urine hasn't gone anywhere near the street. It's just going down the cracks in my patio."
"You're urinating in a public place and i'm going to have to give you an on-the-spot fine."
"A fine, dear Sir? Is that really necessary? I have explained that there are extenuating circumstances, so can you not find it in your heart to exercise a little bit of discretion in this instance and we'll all go on our merry way, my good fellow?" Is perhaps what I would have said if I was less drunk and living in the Victorian era, but instead I exclaimed indignantly;
"A fine! A fucking fine! You can't give me a fine for pissing on my own house. It's private property, for fucks sake! That's fucking ridiculous!" I then noticed that he was a PCSO and that his silent companion was the real policeman. I foolishly decided to try and converse with the organ grinder and not the monkey. "Is this a wind up? Or some training exercise? This guy can't give me a fine for pissing on my own fucking property?
"I'm afraid he can, Sir. And if you don't stop swearing we can arrest you." Well this was an aural red rag to a bull. I'm usually a placid person but am prone to bouts of rage when faced with idiocy of the highest order. Especially when drunk.
"I can't believe this. Firstly, he's writing out a fine because I got caught short and pissed in my own garden and secondly, because I've rightly got a bit annoyed about the whole thing you're threatening to arrest me for swearing. If you two had any common sense you'd have just walked on without this bullshit."
"Last warning, Sir!"
"Right i won't swear anymore but i hope you two power mongers can sleep at night. And look at him writing that with his little notebook and pencil like he's a real policeman! Ah bless!"
"Come on, Paul just leave it" said my friend.
"Yes come on, Paul. Listen to your girlfriend. I'm gonna need to take some details" said the PCSO with a noticeable smirk that only served to bhoy my sense of injustice.
"You're loving this aren't you? Is this really what you signed up for?"
"I'm just doing my job?" He replied
"Your job? Your job should be making sure peole aren't lumping 7 shades of shite out of eachother around the corner, not fining me for pissing on my own house. And besides, it's not even a real job!"
He ignored this insult and asked for my full name, which I gave to him.
"And your full address please?" he asked
"You're stood outside it!" I said in disbelief. "That's my whole point!"
"Can you just state your full address please?"
"Right, fair enough" I said whilst walking closer to the wall dividing us to get a closer look at what he was writing. "Are you gonna write this down then? My address is; Piss House. Number 1 Toilet Street. Reading. Berkshire. RG1 1PP."
He stopped witing on the pad and looked up to see my face, smiling from ear to ear at the childishness of my own crappy joke.
"Very amusing. What's you're real address?"
I had no intention of making it easy for him.
"Well, you see that number on the door? Thats the number I live at. And you see that road sign attached to this here wall? That's the road I live on." He continued to ask me a few more questions as I lit another cigarette and chatted to my friend about the ridiculousness of the situation, though she was more interested in an ending being brought to it rather than it's ridiculous nature.
"Just be quiet and take the bloody ticket!" she said impatiently.
"I'm gonna have to, by the looks of things!" I replied.
The policeman called me for my attention, reeled off a long legal speil and gave me the ticket. With that, my brother taxi pulled up outside the house and got out with 3 friends, all sans women. "What's going on?" he asked.
"This muppet has given me a £90 fine for pissing in our garden. It's fucking ridiculous!"
The real copper sprang into action. I had given him the excuse he was waiting for; "Right, you've been warned! I'm arresting you under Section 5 of The Public Order Act for swearing at a Police Officer and for being drunk and disorderly!"
"WHAT! I might be drunk but i'm not disorderly. I'm just trying to get into my house" I said pathetically as the realisation that I had let this stupid situation slide into the farcical set in. My brother and friends argued the toss but it wasn't making a difference.
He came around into the garden and made me turn around whilst he put cuffs on me. I had fought the law and the law had won. I wasn't going to aggrievate the situation by struggling or resisting arrest but I'm afraid my mouth went into overdrive "THIS IS FUCKING OUTRAGEOUS! YOU'RE ARRESTING ME FOR PISSING ON MY OWN HOUSE".
"No, you got a fine for that. I'm arresting you for swearing at a police officer."
I DIDN'T SWEAR AT A POLICE OFFICER. I SAID THAT THIS WAS FUCKING RIDICULOUS AND IT IS. Oh and, by the way, you've just stepped in my piss! Ha ha!"
My girlfriend stood with her head in her hands before announcing that she was going inside.
"Laura, you work at the Evening Post" I said "write an article about this fucking nonsense!"
"Paul, It's Lauren and I told you ages ago that I just work in the advertising section. You don't listen! And besides- do you really want people to read about this in the paper?" she said before shaking her head and turning on her heels towards the now open front door.
"Just listen to your, girlfriend, mate!" said the policeman as he led me to the police car that had now arrived.
"I'm not your fucking mate. And she's not my girlfriend!".
I then noticed that the next door neighbours were looking out the window at this whole scene. Rather than not make any further fuss I drunkenly decided to tell them what an incredible injustice was unfolding before their eyes, just in case they thought I was a drug dealer or a paedophile or worse, "THEY'RE ARRESTING ME FOR PISSING ON MY OWN GARDEN. RIDICULOUS, ISN'T IT?" PISSING ON MY OWN BLOODY HOUSE!!!" and with that they shut the curtains and the policeman ducked my head into the car for the 2nd time in a fortnight.
To compound my misery, as the car moved off down the street and I peered out thw window, I was faced with the heartbreaking sight of my grinning brother at the doorway with my bottle of vodka in one arm and my new found lady friend in the other, with my friends waving sarcastically behind them.
Everyone, except me, is a bastard!
Thursday, 9 October 2008
Arrested Redevelopment.
Well, the system works, whether you like it or not.
Up until 13 days ago (I'm being precise because i'd have had to pay double if the fine wasn't paid today) I was completely off the criminal radar. I think the policeman of this country, in the main, do a remarkable job under the circumstances. In fact, the only time i had ever felt the icy fingers of the long arm of the law was when i was 16 and i got pulled over by the police after fleeing the scene of a impromptu 4am football match in the grounds of a primary school. That time ended in my favour- They took my name and address. I gave them both falsely. They radioed it in. I folded and pleaded for freedom. After my terribly suspect act, they made me empty my pockets on a low wall and found what they thought was contraband. Unfortunately, the policeman involved that time didn't heed my warning not to open the scrumpled bit of tissue he had found in my jeans and, instead of uncovering whatever drugs he was looking for when he unpicked the scrunched up bog roll with his fingers, he found a screwed up, recently used condom which had been hastily stuffed in my pocket after my friend was banging on his mums bedroom door wondering why i had locked it behind me and my then girlfriend. Anyway, the policeman looked at me with utter disgust, looked down at his hands in complete disarray and sent me on my way so, to date, it's been; Me 1 v The Old Bill 0
But now the scores have changed in their favour.
I organise Christmas lighting schemes for a living. If you live anywhere in London or the South, I've probably sorted out your towns lights. If they're shit, that's not my work. Well, I was in a large town in the South West of the country nearly two weeks ago when my first unnescessary incarcaration took place. I was with a local electrician and, perhaps stupidly, parked my car next to his in a pedestrianised area (It was the middle of the high street, in fairness) and got out to measure the span of a road with a view to putting a cross street decoration in. I was but 150m and a minutes walk away from my car when my electrician companion noticed a traffic warden in his bright yellow jacket overlooking my car. I dropped my measuring equipment and sprinted like fuck through the crowded street towards him. As I got closer I pulled the key from my pocket and pressed its button to open it. The car bleeped and the lights flashed. The startled warden looked around to see where the owner was coming from and saw the sight of me, dishevelled and running like a man possessed towards him. This bought me vital seconds before he could plant the ticket on my window. I saw him turn back around to concerntrate on his machine. It was now Me Vs Him in a race to see who could get the job in hand done quickest. I reached the car , pulled open the door before he had placed the ticket on the window and went to jump inside. I had won!
"You shouldn't be parked here. You've got a ticket now." he said without looking up.
"But you haven't placed the ticket on the window yet. I'm off!" I said in distain and defiance, whilst just about to shut the door behind me.
"Doesn't matter!" he replied, in his west country drawl "That law finished in March. I've issued the ticket now!"
I didn't doubt him for a minute. Although i like the police, I have no time for traffic wardens but despite this i could tell he wasn't lying.
"Ah for fucks sake! I was only gone for a minute."
"I know. I watched you park up."
"But I'm doing a job for the council. I'm contracted to put the Christmas lights in and was just measuring up."
"The Christmas lights? Oh right! Me and my family love the Christmas lights here! I can't wait for Christmas it's the only time people in this town are nice to eachother."
Thinking I had chanced upon a fellow yuletide spirit I exclaimed; "Exactly! I'm just providing a service for the community, so you don't have to give me a ticket then."
"I've printed it out now so no can do and besides, see that camera there? *points up at a cctv camera*. The town surveillance have seen you park up and told me to give you a ticket."
"What?" I said, "That fucking camera up there?" and with that i nonchantly raised my arm and stuck two fingers up at it and waved with the other hand whilst smiling and saying "Absolute fucking wankers!"
"Yep, that one." He smiled and replied. I realised it was pointless from that moment forth and stuck around to accept my penance. Seeing as I already had a parking fine, i told the warden I was leaving my car where it was so i could carry on with the job in hand. There was no point in making a scene so i stood and listened to the warden telling me how much he loved Christmas as he finished printing out the ticket and placed it on my windscreen. The electrician had walked back by this point and knew the warden. They chatted amongst themselves whilst i pulled the small yellow ticket bag from the glass and read the bad news within. Half a minute later, a police car sped around the corner and pulled up next to me. Two police officers stepped out and walked towards me. I turned to face them.
"Excuse me, Sir. I'm arresting you under Section 5 of the Public Order Act."
What? What are you talking about? I've already got a ticket!"
"No, we're arresting you for swearing at that camera."
"Eh? I only stuck my fingers up quickly in anger. I was only messing!"
"Well that constitutes anti social behaviour and you're going to have to come with us."
"Is this a joke?" I pleaded desperately, "I'm only here to get the Christmas lights sorted!"
"Oh the Christmas lights" said the silent policeman "What we having this year?"
"Nothing by the way this is turning out." I responded sarcastically.
Both coppers smirked before the first one went back into official mode.
"You're gonna have to come back with us, i'm afraid. We've been told to bring you back to the station."
"Nah, y-you've got to be fucking kidding me!" I stuttered in disbelief before repeating pathetically "I was only messing around."
"Don't swear! You're gonna have to come with us, I'm afraid. Orders come direct from the station. Can you get in the back of the car quietly?"
"You're afraid! I've got another appointment this afternoon!"
I realised arguing beyond this point was fruitless. These bastards were now claiming the only path out of this mess headed in the direction of the police station, so i stepped towards the car. They didn't handcuff me but the quiet copper opened the door and went to put his hand on my head to guide me in. I stood up straight and turned to him and smiled;
"I'm fine. I don't know about you, but I usually manage to sit down without smacking my skull against something, thank you very much." My gaze then caught the wardens;
"This is your fault, you fucking vulture! I hope you have the shittest Christmas ever!"
I then stooped my head and sat in the car, where I was immediately faced with the level of immaturity within my insult. From that moment onwards i was polite and cordial with the police officers in the hope that i would just be let off at the station with a warning. I wasn't. I had to sit in a cell and wait nigh on two hours before collecting an £80 fine for anti social behaviour. When I left the station and returned to my car, after phoning my boss and sheepishly explaining what had happened, I couldn't help but think that sticking two fingers up at a camera was, without doubt, the gayest reason i had ever heard someone getting arrested for.........until saturday night that was.
To be continued on account of the fact that I have to be up early to sell more fucking Christmas lights.
Up until 13 days ago (I'm being precise because i'd have had to pay double if the fine wasn't paid today) I was completely off the criminal radar. I think the policeman of this country, in the main, do a remarkable job under the circumstances. In fact, the only time i had ever felt the icy fingers of the long arm of the law was when i was 16 and i got pulled over by the police after fleeing the scene of a impromptu 4am football match in the grounds of a primary school. That time ended in my favour- They took my name and address. I gave them both falsely. They radioed it in. I folded and pleaded for freedom. After my terribly suspect act, they made me empty my pockets on a low wall and found what they thought was contraband. Unfortunately, the policeman involved that time didn't heed my warning not to open the scrumpled bit of tissue he had found in my jeans and, instead of uncovering whatever drugs he was looking for when he unpicked the scrunched up bog roll with his fingers, he found a screwed up, recently used condom which had been hastily stuffed in my pocket after my friend was banging on his mums bedroom door wondering why i had locked it behind me and my then girlfriend. Anyway, the policeman looked at me with utter disgust, looked down at his hands in complete disarray and sent me on my way so, to date, it's been; Me 1 v The Old Bill 0
But now the scores have changed in their favour.
I organise Christmas lighting schemes for a living. If you live anywhere in London or the South, I've probably sorted out your towns lights. If they're shit, that's not my work. Well, I was in a large town in the South West of the country nearly two weeks ago when my first unnescessary incarcaration took place. I was with a local electrician and, perhaps stupidly, parked my car next to his in a pedestrianised area (It was the middle of the high street, in fairness) and got out to measure the span of a road with a view to putting a cross street decoration in. I was but 150m and a minutes walk away from my car when my electrician companion noticed a traffic warden in his bright yellow jacket overlooking my car. I dropped my measuring equipment and sprinted like fuck through the crowded street towards him. As I got closer I pulled the key from my pocket and pressed its button to open it. The car bleeped and the lights flashed. The startled warden looked around to see where the owner was coming from and saw the sight of me, dishevelled and running like a man possessed towards him. This bought me vital seconds before he could plant the ticket on my window. I saw him turn back around to concerntrate on his machine. It was now Me Vs Him in a race to see who could get the job in hand done quickest. I reached the car , pulled open the door before he had placed the ticket on the window and went to jump inside. I had won!
"You shouldn't be parked here. You've got a ticket now." he said without looking up.
"But you haven't placed the ticket on the window yet. I'm off!" I said in distain and defiance, whilst just about to shut the door behind me.
"Doesn't matter!" he replied, in his west country drawl "That law finished in March. I've issued the ticket now!"
I didn't doubt him for a minute. Although i like the police, I have no time for traffic wardens but despite this i could tell he wasn't lying.
"Ah for fucks sake! I was only gone for a minute."
"I know. I watched you park up."
"But I'm doing a job for the council. I'm contracted to put the Christmas lights in and was just measuring up."
"The Christmas lights? Oh right! Me and my family love the Christmas lights here! I can't wait for Christmas it's the only time people in this town are nice to eachother."
Thinking I had chanced upon a fellow yuletide spirit I exclaimed; "Exactly! I'm just providing a service for the community, so you don't have to give me a ticket then."
"I've printed it out now so no can do and besides, see that camera there? *points up at a cctv camera*. The town surveillance have seen you park up and told me to give you a ticket."
"What?" I said, "That fucking camera up there?" and with that i nonchantly raised my arm and stuck two fingers up at it and waved with the other hand whilst smiling and saying "Absolute fucking wankers!"
"Yep, that one." He smiled and replied. I realised it was pointless from that moment forth and stuck around to accept my penance. Seeing as I already had a parking fine, i told the warden I was leaving my car where it was so i could carry on with the job in hand. There was no point in making a scene so i stood and listened to the warden telling me how much he loved Christmas as he finished printing out the ticket and placed it on my windscreen. The electrician had walked back by this point and knew the warden. They chatted amongst themselves whilst i pulled the small yellow ticket bag from the glass and read the bad news within. Half a minute later, a police car sped around the corner and pulled up next to me. Two police officers stepped out and walked towards me. I turned to face them.
"Excuse me, Sir. I'm arresting you under Section 5 of the Public Order Act."
What? What are you talking about? I've already got a ticket!"
"No, we're arresting you for swearing at that camera."
"Eh? I only stuck my fingers up quickly in anger. I was only messing!"
"Well that constitutes anti social behaviour and you're going to have to come with us."
"Is this a joke?" I pleaded desperately, "I'm only here to get the Christmas lights sorted!"
"Oh the Christmas lights" said the silent policeman "What we having this year?"
"Nothing by the way this is turning out." I responded sarcastically.
Both coppers smirked before the first one went back into official mode.
"You're gonna have to come back with us, i'm afraid. We've been told to bring you back to the station."
"Nah, y-you've got to be fucking kidding me!" I stuttered in disbelief before repeating pathetically "I was only messing around."
"Don't swear! You're gonna have to come with us, I'm afraid. Orders come direct from the station. Can you get in the back of the car quietly?"
"You're afraid! I've got another appointment this afternoon!"
I realised arguing beyond this point was fruitless. These bastards were now claiming the only path out of this mess headed in the direction of the police station, so i stepped towards the car. They didn't handcuff me but the quiet copper opened the door and went to put his hand on my head to guide me in. I stood up straight and turned to him and smiled;
"I'm fine. I don't know about you, but I usually manage to sit down without smacking my skull against something, thank you very much." My gaze then caught the wardens;
"This is your fault, you fucking vulture! I hope you have the shittest Christmas ever!"
I then stooped my head and sat in the car, where I was immediately faced with the level of immaturity within my insult. From that moment onwards i was polite and cordial with the police officers in the hope that i would just be let off at the station with a warning. I wasn't. I had to sit in a cell and wait nigh on two hours before collecting an £80 fine for anti social behaviour. When I left the station and returned to my car, after phoning my boss and sheepishly explaining what had happened, I couldn't help but think that sticking two fingers up at a camera was, without doubt, the gayest reason i had ever heard someone getting arrested for.........until saturday night that was.
To be continued on account of the fact that I have to be up early to sell more fucking Christmas lights.
Wednesday, 8 October 2008
Blog Neglection.
A lot has happened recently that I've failed to report back on. I've been arrested twice in two weeks, having managed to avoid being arrested during all of my 27 years on this god forsaken planet. I wouldn't mind so much if the arrests were for sticking it to The Man or being rumbled for my involvement in a counterfeit jeans operation, but they were both for the most ridiculously pathetic reasons that I am reluctant to go on about. Of course, i'd tell you all about them here, but who are you? I don't mean that in a rude way but what I do mean is; does anyone actually read this fucking blog. I know a few people looked at it in the past but how do i know you're still there? I can't get the viewing figures in. According to a respectable web counter exactly 0 people have ever looked at this page, which is crazy because i check it at least 27 times a day just to see if anyone out there has left me a message. They never do. This isn't me pandering for complimentary comments or wanting to get smoked blown up my arse, but if you read this blog then let me know here. You don't even have to say anything-just write, "I do" and it shall continue in the manner in which it started. I'm not convinced about this blogging lark- It's a one way street and an utterly lonely existence.
Tuesday, 23 September 2008
Free Holiday?
Someone has offered me a free holiday. Being the cynical fucker that i am I waqs immediately sceptical about this. But I am assured - No hidden agendas, no strings attached and no money involved. It's entirely free. I'm in two minds whether to go. Usually it'd be an easy decision to make but after my last two holidays I'm now not so sure. Don't get me wrong-my last two holidays were great and I enjoyed every fun filled, booze fuelled minute of them, but therein lies the problem. I tend to enjoy holidays so very much that when i have to come home again I fall into an almost catatonic state of depression. That's the problem with holidays, they really put into perspective just how crap your life really is. And that's something i really don't need highlighting right now. You'll spend the week after you get back sitting at home on your lonesome, looking at your watch, thinking "This time last week I was sat on a gorgeous beach surrounded by beautifully tanned women with a drink in my hand and hope in my heart and now look at me!". This feeling usually lasts for a good month with me, like a 4 week hellish comedown. After a month it seems a little frivolous to still be feeling down about it, but do I want to put myself through it for the sake of a weeks debauchary? I think I do.
Monday, 22 September 2008
Hot Tramp, I Love You So!
I like tramps, or homeless people, I should say because when people refer to them as "tramps" i always get on my high horse about it. The vast majority of them are normal people, like you and me, they're just down on their luck somewhat. Sure, there's a few crack addicted ones letting the side down and I'm sure that the Kennel Club would have a few thngs to say about the dietary habits of their dogs, but most are good good people if you take the time to find out. Here's the first time I did;
I was in the Purple Turtle in Reading with a girl who wasn't my girlfriend. We were canoodling and having a few drinks and the like when my actual girlfriend, who had a deep hatred for the place and never went there (hence why i was in there), walked through the doors with her sister and saw me in the throes of public passion with this other young girl. Needless to say she went mental and ran over and pulled the girl by the hair, whilst i was kissing her, and headbutted me by smacking this poor unsuspecting girls head against mine, before launching into me with her nails out and her mouth barking. All hell was breaking loose; glasses were flying off the bar, bottles were getting knocked out of hands and poor old me was in the middle of it all. I endured a good 20 seconds of prising my young friend and my girlfriends sister apart, whilst getting my hair ripped out from behind when I decided enough was enough and made a run for it out the glass door and away into the night, leaving a trail of devastation, torn hair and screaming women behind me.
I got half way down the road when i realised that I was too strung out to go home and fancied carrying on drinking anyway. I looked at my watch. It was 1.45am. The Turtle was the only place that stayed open until 2 and my good friend Paul managed the place, so if i could hold out until everyone got kicked out I could go back for the all night lock in and make my merry way home in the morning. Opposite the Purple Turtle is a very old grave yard with lots of massive trees, with huge, twisted branches. I walked over to the biggest and, with a bit of drunken effort, climbed up onto the widest branch I could and lay back against the trunk, making myself as comfortable as possible whilst feeling like some some smug bastard Robin Hood like character as a surveyed all around me. From my vantage point I could see the Purple Turtle doors and i watched intently as hoards of people left the shitey night spot, screaming and puking as they went , but none of them were my girlfriend or my innocent battered ladybint. After about 20 minutes of keeping look out without spotting either target, I began to get a bit tired and soon drifted off to sleep safe in the bows of my crooked tree.
I opened my eyes and saw daylight poking through the leafy branches above me. I scrambled to sit upright as I tried to get a grasp on where the hours had gone and what was happening now. As i reached into my pocket to dig out my phone to check the time, I lost my balance and fell to my side and down onto the ground in a heap. Only it wasn't the ground. It was a groaning, upset tramp who had been sleeping peacefully in the balmy summers morning beneath the very branch I was laying in. "Ah! What? Fuckin hellll!" He grumbled in a deep Berkshire accent. "Oh Fuck! I'm really sorry! I didn't know you were there! I replied as a scrambled to my feet, sounding as if i always slept in a tree and jumped out at this time in the morning. We were both as strung out and confused as eachother and I spent the next couple of minutes trying to explain myself as he rubbed his bearded face and tried to come to terms with what had just fallen on him from a great height.
After we had both gotten over the shock and he had gotten his head and shattered nervous system around the fact that someone had just jumped out of a tree onto him, I took him for breakfast at a nearby burger shack as a way of apologising. We then swapped numbers, although he didn't have one so he told me where he usually slept at night when he wasn't under the tree and I promised to bring him a sleeping bag and a few other bits and pieces that he needed.
I don't like to think of myself as his sugar daddy because i rarely make him do sexy things to me, but that was 4 years ago and I still meet up for a chat and to give him things to this day. Everyone should sponser a tramp, if you ask me. My ones called Steve.
I was in the Purple Turtle in Reading with a girl who wasn't my girlfriend. We were canoodling and having a few drinks and the like when my actual girlfriend, who had a deep hatred for the place and never went there (hence why i was in there), walked through the doors with her sister and saw me in the throes of public passion with this other young girl. Needless to say she went mental and ran over and pulled the girl by the hair, whilst i was kissing her, and headbutted me by smacking this poor unsuspecting girls head against mine, before launching into me with her nails out and her mouth barking. All hell was breaking loose; glasses were flying off the bar, bottles were getting knocked out of hands and poor old me was in the middle of it all. I endured a good 20 seconds of prising my young friend and my girlfriends sister apart, whilst getting my hair ripped out from behind when I decided enough was enough and made a run for it out the glass door and away into the night, leaving a trail of devastation, torn hair and screaming women behind me.
I got half way down the road when i realised that I was too strung out to go home and fancied carrying on drinking anyway. I looked at my watch. It was 1.45am. The Turtle was the only place that stayed open until 2 and my good friend Paul managed the place, so if i could hold out until everyone got kicked out I could go back for the all night lock in and make my merry way home in the morning. Opposite the Purple Turtle is a very old grave yard with lots of massive trees, with huge, twisted branches. I walked over to the biggest and, with a bit of drunken effort, climbed up onto the widest branch I could and lay back against the trunk, making myself as comfortable as possible whilst feeling like some some smug bastard Robin Hood like character as a surveyed all around me. From my vantage point I could see the Purple Turtle doors and i watched intently as hoards of people left the shitey night spot, screaming and puking as they went , but none of them were my girlfriend or my innocent battered ladybint. After about 20 minutes of keeping look out without spotting either target, I began to get a bit tired and soon drifted off to sleep safe in the bows of my crooked tree.
I opened my eyes and saw daylight poking through the leafy branches above me. I scrambled to sit upright as I tried to get a grasp on where the hours had gone and what was happening now. As i reached into my pocket to dig out my phone to check the time, I lost my balance and fell to my side and down onto the ground in a heap. Only it wasn't the ground. It was a groaning, upset tramp who had been sleeping peacefully in the balmy summers morning beneath the very branch I was laying in. "Ah! What? Fuckin hellll!" He grumbled in a deep Berkshire accent. "Oh Fuck! I'm really sorry! I didn't know you were there! I replied as a scrambled to my feet, sounding as if i always slept in a tree and jumped out at this time in the morning. We were both as strung out and confused as eachother and I spent the next couple of minutes trying to explain myself as he rubbed his bearded face and tried to come to terms with what had just fallen on him from a great height.
After we had both gotten over the shock and he had gotten his head and shattered nervous system around the fact that someone had just jumped out of a tree onto him, I took him for breakfast at a nearby burger shack as a way of apologising. We then swapped numbers, although he didn't have one so he told me where he usually slept at night when he wasn't under the tree and I promised to bring him a sleeping bag and a few other bits and pieces that he needed.
I don't like to think of myself as his sugar daddy because i rarely make him do sexy things to me, but that was 4 years ago and I still meet up for a chat and to give him things to this day. Everyone should sponser a tramp, if you ask me. My ones called Steve.
Saturday, 20 September 2008
One Night Bland
I don't entirely remember how I got back to this girls house. I just seemed to come to with a can of lager in my hand and a cigarette in my mouth, sat on her sofa whilst she was messing about with something in her kitchen. I remember the sensation of shear bewilderment as I looked around the room wondering how the devil I had got there. When the answer failed to come from my frazzled mind I decided to shut it down completely and just went with the flow. She then led me upstairs and it was on that journey up that single flight that i realised just how smashed I was. So did she.
As we were laying down and kissing on her bed she turned to me and said; "Have you got any protection?" and I thought it'd be funny to act all naive/ignorant by replying, "Protection?!?! What do you mean, like a baseball bat or a hammer? No, I know this areas rough but I've left them at home!" Well that little doozie didn't go down half as well as you'd think but i managed to pul the situation back around.
Through much drunken fumbling, we both removed her clothes and I was immediately struck by how big her boobs were. I mean, they were massive! Distractingly big and fairly far from attractive; like saddle bags packed for a horseride across Death Valley. This just wouldn't do, I couldn't concerntrate and after a day of heavy drinking and all that goes with it, I was going to need the concerntration of Garry Kasparov to get me though this. I looked across the room with an open eye whilst i was kissing her and saw a Reading shirt hung on the wall as part of a mini football shrine. 'Well at least we have something in common' I thought, something I'd probably failed to check up on before I decided to make coitus with her. I stopped the kissing and said "Oh you like Reading! Me too! I fucking love Reading! Do you go to any of the games?" A converstaion about Berkshires finest ensued before I suggested "Why don't you put that shirt on? I think you'd look really sexy in it!" She dutifully obliged, God bless her, and pulled the tight top over her fun bags and took them out of the equation. The saga then continued but it was to no avail-I couldn't, for the life of me, sustain an erection and folding it in wasn't convincing anyone. I don't know whether it was the drink or the drugs or the fact that this girl was practically now dressed as a man that was the problem, Hell, it could have even been because I just didn't fancy her very much, but my mouth was writing cheques my penis couldn't cash. I was completely dead from the waist down and not even the most experienced of fluffers would have been able to do a thing about it. My phone rang, I answered it and it was my friend wondering where I was. I didn't know. "Where am I?" I turned and said to the girl. "On Thurston Court" she replied and I told my friend. "Fuck, that's only 10 minutes from my house" my mate replied. This was the extraction call I so desperately needed. I had a window of ooportunity to get the fuck out and you can be sure that I wasn't going to miss it, so I made an excuse that my friend had gotten into trouble, pulled on my clothes, kissed her goodbye, robbed some beer from her fridge and hot stepped it out of her house and into the night.
As we were laying down and kissing on her bed she turned to me and said; "Have you got any protection?" and I thought it'd be funny to act all naive/ignorant by replying, "Protection?!?! What do you mean, like a baseball bat or a hammer? No, I know this areas rough but I've left them at home!" Well that little doozie didn't go down half as well as you'd think but i managed to pul the situation back around.
Through much drunken fumbling, we both removed her clothes and I was immediately struck by how big her boobs were. I mean, they were massive! Distractingly big and fairly far from attractive; like saddle bags packed for a horseride across Death Valley. This just wouldn't do, I couldn't concerntrate and after a day of heavy drinking and all that goes with it, I was going to need the concerntration of Garry Kasparov to get me though this. I looked across the room with an open eye whilst i was kissing her and saw a Reading shirt hung on the wall as part of a mini football shrine. 'Well at least we have something in common' I thought, something I'd probably failed to check up on before I decided to make coitus with her. I stopped the kissing and said "Oh you like Reading! Me too! I fucking love Reading! Do you go to any of the games?" A converstaion about Berkshires finest ensued before I suggested "Why don't you put that shirt on? I think you'd look really sexy in it!" She dutifully obliged, God bless her, and pulled the tight top over her fun bags and took them out of the equation. The saga then continued but it was to no avail-I couldn't, for the life of me, sustain an erection and folding it in wasn't convincing anyone. I don't know whether it was the drink or the drugs or the fact that this girl was practically now dressed as a man that was the problem, Hell, it could have even been because I just didn't fancy her very much, but my mouth was writing cheques my penis couldn't cash. I was completely dead from the waist down and not even the most experienced of fluffers would have been able to do a thing about it. My phone rang, I answered it and it was my friend wondering where I was. I didn't know. "Where am I?" I turned and said to the girl. "On Thurston Court" she replied and I told my friend. "Fuck, that's only 10 minutes from my house" my mate replied. This was the extraction call I so desperately needed. I had a window of ooportunity to get the fuck out and you can be sure that I wasn't going to miss it, so I made an excuse that my friend had gotten into trouble, pulled on my clothes, kissed her goodbye, robbed some beer from her fridge and hot stepped it out of her house and into the night.
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