I Fought the Law

Oh sweet irony, you are a cruel mistress sometimes. I thought I knew you so well by now but sometimes you are still able to surprise me.

Almost a year ago I made a post about my new determination to start jogging and get fit. This post contained the following paragraphs:

“On the one side a jogger is someone with a mission. As they run through the streets and fields in their trainers and tracksuit they are someone trying to improve their health through exorcise. You can see the determination and commitment on their faces as they speed by. These are qualities to admire.

However, all that changes the moment any jogger slows to a walk. Suddenly they no longer look like a jogger. Suddenly they look like a Chav. With out the act of running they simply look like someone walking around in a tracksuit as a fashion statement. The fact that they are still out of breath could be mistaken for the results of a quick get away from a shop security guard. At least that would explain some of the strange looks I have got in the street.”

This was just a simple observational joke but it seems that fact really does follow fiction. At least that would explain why I was just stopped by the long arm of the law during my last jog tonight.

Half way through my jog I got a stitch in my side and had to slow down to a walk, accepting the fact that I then looked like a chav. A short while later a cop car pulled up along side me. Apparently I (or some one else almost as handsome looking as me) had been seen near the scene of a car break in.

During what followed I actually got to experience the good cop/bad cop routine which (until now) I had only seen on episodes of CSI and Law & Order. While one of the two policemen was quite polite and made small talk about how cold it was (while asking for my personal details) the other suddenly asked me if I liked cars. I was caught off guard and thought this was more small talk so I replied that I was not into them that much. After all, I’ve never watched Formula 1.

“But you like what is in them don’t you?” was his surprising reply.

After five minutes of thinking I might be about to spend the night in the slammer as a guest of ‘the man’ I was allowed to go home, an innocent person.

To close this post I was going to make a joke and ask if anyone would like to by a car stereo but that would be incriminating and my lawyer really advises against it.

14 responses to “I Fought the Law”

  1. Keith says:

    Never make jokes about the fuzz and their actions, I did once and I had a visit from a plain clothes dick who made it obvious that they were not amused! How the hell did they find out where I lived? It’s not on any of my webpages. There are things going on out there that we of the huddled masses know nothing about. Big Brother was definately watching me then (and probably still is!)

  2. Dragon Lady says:

    I hope you would use your one phone call to let us know what is happening. Then we would hot foot it over to Holland and have a quite word with the police.

  3. Ché l'écossais says:

    Ah grow up. The Dutch don’t like us, and never will.
    I’ve been visiting NL for donkeys years – sints 1983 – and they never liked us, what with the whole drug-tourist thing *sigh*, and the getting-drunk-and-pissing-all-over-the-place-like-it-was-fun thing too. No wonder they don’t think we are great.
    Can’t really blame them.
    I’ll never forget the bourgeois Leidenaar who accused me of ripping off Dutch social security.
    She was drunk. I was on holiday. Spending my money in her stupid middle class town.
    What’s the feminine for “stupid bitch” ? In Dutch ?

    Still love the place – dat is klaar.

  4. Wezz6400 says:

    And yet another hilarious post, I love it! :-D
    @Ché l’écossais I think the correct translation would be “domme slet” though a Dutch person would probable pick more rude combinations such as “domme hoer”. ;-)

  5. Tess says:

    Stu it’s okay trying to impress people especially cops but you really should leave the crowbar at home next time you go jogging… :p

  6. Manictastic says:

    That’s one of the stupidests things ever. I atleast thought they would throw you into the slammer for public drunkeness.

    In Flanders, a stupid bitch would become a “vuile slette!”. Just to expand your Dutch to more exotic and southern dialects. :)

  7. Invader Stu says:

    Keith – I’ve not had a visit yet.

    Dragon Lady – Bring a cake with a nail file in it.

    Ché l’écossais – They thought I was Dutch until I started speaking English.

    Wezz6400 – Thanks

    Tess – Next time I’ll use some rolled up socks.

    Manictastic – These an idea… drunk jogging.

  8. sophie says:

    god it’s terrifying! I would have been so so so scared. There in the middle of nothing, with those cops (the good the false, the bad the terrible!) and them speaking each others in that cryptic language deciding about my innocence…! glub!!!

  9. Invader Stu says:

    That’s how I started to feel as the situation went on

  10. Seb says:

    I experienced the good cop bad cop routine myself in an interview room in Govan police station in Glasgow one time after the bar I was working was missing a couple hundred quid from the till. Very interesting to be at the receiving end of it, even a little scary. I’ll write about it when I get a chance

  11. Blue says:

    Perhaps you should jog in shorts and long sleeve top? I dunno. But that was a funny story.

  12. Invader Stu says:

    Seb – Did they send you to the big house?

    Blue – I’ve now got a jacket that says jogger much more then it says murderer.

  13. ChickyBabe says:

    And I thought you had an innocent face! :P

  14. Oli says:

    Thanks for the new car radio Stu, god knows how you managed to sell it so cheap =D

    *Waits for the cash filled brown envelope from the police*

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