Policemen!
Sometimes you love them and sometimes you hate them. I suppose it’s the
difference between the bobby on the beat (are there any left?) who quietens a
mob of noisy youths and the traffic cop who pulls you over for doing 32 mph in
a 30 mph zone. I have rarely been in
close contact and the one occasion I was ‘pulled over’ proved to be a pleasant
experience. Driving home one night from a very good Mess dinner (perhaps I
should not have been driving, but my dear wife refuses to even try to master
the art of driving my pride and joy – at the time an R-Type Bentley), when the
dreaded blue flashing light appeared behind me. “Good evening Sir” said the
constable, “Sorry to stop you”. Well that was a promising start. “We don’t
often see lovely motors like this on the road this late at night. I just wanted
to make sure it hadn’t been nicked”. I think perhaps my Mess kit and my wife’s
evening dress answered that one.
I replied that he was welcome to stop me at
any time for that sort of reason and with cheerful goodnights on both sides, we
went on our way. Nice.
This reminds me of a story I heard
recently about a chap whose wife had run off with another man after years of
marriage. To cheer himself up (or to celebrate?), he went to a nearby car
showroom and bought himself a rather nice sports car (the sort he had never
been allowed before). Full of the joys of Spring he bowled along the road until
suddenly he realised that a) He was doing over 100mph and b) There was a patrol
car behind, flashing him to pull over. The policeman said “Sir, I’ve had a good
day; I am off on holiday tomorrow; and it is nearly Christmas. If you can give
me an excuse that I have never heard before, I will let you off with a
warning”.
“Well officer” said the man “My wife ran off last week with a
policeman and when I saw your lights I thought Oh Hell! He’s bringing her
back”. “Have a nice day” said the copper.
Poop Poop
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