Thursday, August 16, 2012

A brief encounter with the long-ish arm of the law

The seven words that no driver wants to hear: "Going a bit fast, aren't we sir?"

No, we are not, because I am sitting in a lay-by with my window rolled down talking to a police officer in a hi-vis tabard and an over-crowded bat utility belt.

Own up to nothing: "Ummm. I might have been."

"What," he asks me, "What if there had been a child in the middle of the road?"

Yes, what if?

"Well, I'd be saying to myself 'There's a child in the middle of the road'. In the middle of nowhere. In the rain. At three in the morning. On a school night. I'd be calling the police."


"Yeah, I'd call the police. We've found that missing kid. We've found him. We'd be heroes."

He reaches for his radio, finger hovering over the transmit button, before realises he's being played like a cheap fiddle.

"Yeah, you've got a point, sir. Uh... Don't do it again."

"No, officer."

I flee.

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