Had to spend an hour down a police station last night, giving a 'witness statement' for something I didn't witness. Some decided it would be a good idea to drive into the driver's side of my car, leaving a hefty gash that runs the full length. I was sitting in the office at the time. It's not the kind of call you want to take. It didn't take an hour to tell PC49 what I'd seen. "Nothing, I was sitting in an office". There was 59 minutes hanging around with young men in track suits. Them, not me, I was wearing a pair of Dickies jeans and a non-descript T-shirt. Can anyone lend me the £150 excess that Churchill Insurance require? I need that cash for my international travels. Perhaps the kind gent or gentess that reported the unorthodox driving of hit 'n' run scum might step in and remind me that somewhere out there good people lurk. Naturally, whilst down the station as us lags call it, I panicked as if I were a murderer when I was asked to produce my car-related documents. My license has an old address on it, my car is registered at my mum's, the interior of the Yaris needs a good old vacuum. Perhaps I'll be made a scapegoat and be bullied into confessing to every incident of car crime that's taken place in this area over the last decade? No, what am I talking about? Humberside Police know what they're doing.
On the stereo: Death From Above 1979 - You're a Woman, I'm a Machine
No comments:
Post a Comment