Back in the old routine
Back out on patrol after a couple of days feeling like the sky was falling into my head and out of my bottom. It’s actually quite pleasant to see the blossom out on a lot of the ornamental cherry trees out on my leafy suburb beat today. The fresh air has chased what was left of the lurgi out of my system, the publisher has paid up (Finally!) and I’m feeling pretty cool and froody.
I’d just caught a car on double yellows. Gave it a full ten minutes, standing bold as brass right next to the front offside; printed, issued, stuck it on the windscreen and taken a couple of photographs – Job done. Half way up the next street I’m busy taking observations when the plaintive cry of the nicked driver came to my ears. “Oy! You!” Which tailed off as he got closer and realised I’m almost half a foot taller and broader than he was.
“Did you stick this on my car?” He stood back about six feet while gesticulating at the ticket I’d issued.
“Ah, you would be the owner of..” I rattled off the vehicles number at him.
“No I’m not!” Came the affronted reply. “It’s my girlfriends!”
“If that is the case sir, she was parked on double yellow lines, and it clearly says in the Highway Code that you may not park there.” I gave him a long cool look and stood my ground, watching just in case he wanted to kick off at a bigger bloke.
“Yeah, but…My Girlfriend!” Came back the plaintive response.
The light dawned. He had obviously been given an ultimatum to try and bully me into cancelling the ticket, which I’m not allowed to do. I could almost see it in his eyes, the agonised look of a sex life in the balance. For a moment I almost took pity on the poor sap. If the ticket stood, no more nookie. Then my mind picked up on the “Oy you!” means of address and any sympathy went out of the window. I just clicked my face into defence mode and said “Sir, the challenge procedure is on the back of the ticket. If you think it was incorrectly issued, please challenge it. You may say that you have spoken to me and I will record that fact. I am officer 515.”
“That’s no good!” He went into last ditch mode. “I want your name!”
At this point I stopped, took a deep breath and tried to keep a straight face before answering; “My name, is for my friends.” Yes! Bloody yes! I’ve been dying to use that line from Lawrence of Arabia for ages. Thank you. There is a God!
Chummy of course didn’t get the reference, and I wasn’t about to explain it to him. He just stormed off and let forth an outraged cry of frustration. Lots of sound, lots of fury. Nothing of any great significance. Oh yes, I didn’t tell him that I was going to report his girlfriends car for having no road tax displayed either.
Poor sod.
I’d just caught a car on double yellows. Gave it a full ten minutes, standing bold as brass right next to the front offside; printed, issued, stuck it on the windscreen and taken a couple of photographs – Job done. Half way up the next street I’m busy taking observations when the plaintive cry of the nicked driver came to my ears. “Oy! You!” Which tailed off as he got closer and realised I’m almost half a foot taller and broader than he was.
“Did you stick this on my car?” He stood back about six feet while gesticulating at the ticket I’d issued.
“Ah, you would be the owner of..” I rattled off the vehicles number at him.
“No I’m not!” Came the affronted reply. “It’s my girlfriends!”
“If that is the case sir, she was parked on double yellow lines, and it clearly says in the Highway Code that you may not park there.” I gave him a long cool look and stood my ground, watching just in case he wanted to kick off at a bigger bloke.
“Yeah, but…My Girlfriend!” Came back the plaintive response.
The light dawned. He had obviously been given an ultimatum to try and bully me into cancelling the ticket, which I’m not allowed to do. I could almost see it in his eyes, the agonised look of a sex life in the balance. For a moment I almost took pity on the poor sap. If the ticket stood, no more nookie. Then my mind picked up on the “Oy you!” means of address and any sympathy went out of the window. I just clicked my face into defence mode and said “Sir, the challenge procedure is on the back of the ticket. If you think it was incorrectly issued, please challenge it. You may say that you have spoken to me and I will record that fact. I am officer 515.”
“That’s no good!” He went into last ditch mode. “I want your name!”
At this point I stopped, took a deep breath and tried to keep a straight face before answering; “My name, is for my friends.” Yes! Bloody yes! I’ve been dying to use that line from Lawrence of Arabia for ages. Thank you. There is a God!
Chummy of course didn’t get the reference, and I wasn’t about to explain it to him. He just stormed off and let forth an outraged cry of frustration. Lots of sound, lots of fury. Nothing of any great significance. Oh yes, I didn’t tell him that I was going to report his girlfriends car for having no road tax displayed either.
Poor sod.
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