I Fought the Law
If there’s one thing I’ve always been able to say with complete confidence it’s this: I’m a good girl, I am. Never saw the inside of the headmaster’s office. Never got booted out of anything for bad behaviour. Never had one brush with the law. Until now.
You know how I said the other week that I wanted to fit some things into the last weeks of my thirties like raising a people’s army and taking over a country? Remember that, eh? Well, it’s not that. I was in France over the holidays and tried it, but my superb speech carefully planned to rouse the sensibilities of the masses fell flat as the French pretended not to understand it and collectively went, “Bof…” So, no, my brush with the law wasn’t a hearty beating 1968–style with a gendarme’s baton, or a thorough tonsil rinsing with a water cannon. It’s oh so much more tame than that. But yes, my friends I have managed to fit in a sojourn in the back of a polis car into my last few days of my thirties. And kids, it wasn’t cool…it wasn’t cool at all.
(And I write this in full expectation of the first comment being from my long time blog buddy, Noddy, a polis blogger of old. The shame of it…. All I can say is, I went quietly Noddy, be assured of that.)
The story of my legal misdemeanour is so pathetic that it is only made blog-worthy by two things: the fact that it is the first time I have ever been charged for anything, and the live commentary on the whole incident by my willing accomplice, Junior Misssy, who incidentally got off scot-free despite putting me up to it.
It all started when I had a bright idea to get a curry takeaway. If only I’d cooked instead of being a lazy arse. And then I made the bizarre decision not to sit on the sofa whining until Meeester agreed to go for it. I went myself- another mistake. What was I thinking? The Capo never gets caught- he always sends his henchmen. That’s how they could never get Al Capone…
The long and short of it is that I parked my car illegally outside a curry house. Not just yellow lines illegally but on zig-zag lines outside the curry house beside the pedestrian crossing. This is, apparently, significantly more naughty than yellow lines parking. And to quote the officer in question, my actions “showed complete disregard for other motorists”. The man’s right, I paid other motorists no mind. I gave them nary a thought. I am sorry. I did however listen to my five year old who whined and said that she had already taken her seatbelt off when I hummed and hawed about parking further up. She’s a criminal mastermind of manipulation, that one.
When I came out of the Nazma, winner of the North East heats of the Scottish Curry House Without Customer Parking of the Year 2006, the cops were waiting for me. In fact, they said they had been in the takeway asking if anyone owned a white mini, but ironically I was glued to a TV special on Scottish police drama, Taggart, on the takeaway telly and must have missed them. How’s that for comedy? I actually think that they thought I’d seen them and had just ignored them- a fugitive if you like, and possibly this was the reason for the actual charging rather than a mere cuff round the ear and a telling off that I was expecting.
Two other things occur which may have led to the 3 points on my license and the sixty quid fine severity of the eventual punishment:
1.The police are trained not to respond in any way to the kind of face that the Cat uses on Shrek. I used it, accompanied with the simpering, broken voiced, “You’re not going to charge me, are you….?”. It didn’t work. By God that Tulliallan Police College training is bloody good. That face usually works on everyone!
2.I forgot the “I’m just nipping in” lights. Aren’t these signals, apparently also known as Hazard Warning Lights, the get out of jail card of every motorist? No??? They say, “Hey, I may be illegally parked and holding up heaps of traffic because I’m nipping in to get my dry cleaning but you cannae get angry because I’ve switched on the ‘I’m just nipping in’ lights. Sorry!”
Another classic mistake- “I’m just nipping in lights” may just be the cloaking device I forgot to engage.*
Despite the humiliation I felt, I have to say one thing, the two policemen were perfectly nice to me. In fact, at one point the polis were quite funny. They looked at my drivers’ license and took the piss out the fact that I am about to turn forty in three days, “Oh, big birthday coming up, eh? Oh dear.” I half expected them to sing Happy Birthday to me, as this kind of behaviour is not unknown amongst the Grampian Polis. My brother in law got a chorus of Happy Birthday a few years ago from two officers who caught him without road tax on his birthday. Maybe if it had been Wednesday I might have got that. I don’t feel cheated or owt, it was nice of them to notice. No birthday present though….
So now onto Junior Misssy. Junior Misssy added these items of interest to the story:
1. After explaining to her that I was going to have to leave her in the car while I went and sat in a police car for five minutes BUT WAS NOT GOING TO JAIL SO DON’T PANIC, She stopped me and said. “But Mum, it’s OK, I know two policemen”. Bless. She is already thinking of how her connections can get her out of things. She is going to be a force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, having met two officers at a school talk who allowed her to try on the handcuffs and one of their hats, does not mean she’s got the whole force in her pocket. Plus, this is not LA in the 1930s.
2. When I returned from the back of the police car after my ordeal (as it shall now be known), Junior Misssy asked me if they shouted at me and used bad words. Eh? What’s that about? I’m thinking that maybe she’s maybe been watching The Wire or something behind my back.
3. When I told Junior Misssy what had happened, I explained that there would be three stars going on my driving license. She refused to accept that getting three stars was not a “good thing”. She also said that if they gave me three ticks, this would also be a good thing. Why was I upset at this?
So there you go, I managed to get nicked for the first time ever three days before my fortieth birthday. I’ve got three days left- what’s next? I hope you’ll all still want to consort with me, despite my confession of criminal tendencies. A Happy New Year to you all.
*I’m joking, police readers, I’m joking I would never do this and I don’t know anyone else who does! No no.
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