...stole my Guinness.
Nnnnnn ... bit bleary this morning.
Last night, at 7:49pm, some woman wouldn't cook her man some eggs … or get him a beer … or something, and it turned into this domestic thing where she was out in the street, shouting over and over and over, to: "Get the fffff away from me! Get the fffff away from me!".
So I called the fuzz. It took five minutes for the emergency call to go through. And it took 10 minutes for the dispatcher, sitting in The Other Island, 1000km away, to work out where I was calling from. It took 10 hours for a patrol car to come out and investigate.
Brilliant.
At 6am they knocked on my door and woke me, The Missus, and The Little Hobbit up.They said they had tried to call me back to get further information. That would explain the phone ringing at 2:30am, only five and a half hours after reporting it. They hung up before we could answer it.
Oh, yeah. This morning, they KNOCKED ON MY DOOR. Parked their car outside. Now the people having the barney know it was me who called the police. And now the rest of the 'hood thinks I've been dealing drugs or Weapons of Mass Destruction. Again.
Brilliant.
I actually, get this, have a lot of respect for police.
Once the chief of police called me and I ordered him to remove a burned out car from my street. And he did it. Immediately.
I actually didn't realise he was the chief of police at the time. I thought he was some other phone call I was expecting from the city council. I didn't realise my mistake until the cop called back and I clicked that I'd just bossed the wrong guy around. Eeek.
It seems every time I visit a police station, I get some senior sergeant trying to recruit me. Like they don't have enough bad cops already. That's one job I wouldn't want. I'd make a bad Good Cop or a good Bad Cop.
There's not much of a career market for that kind of officer. Actually, come to think of it, I'd probably just freak everyone out by trying to play both good-cop and bad-cop at the same time.
I'd rather be Nancy Drew or one of the Hardy Boys instead. I want to be Magnum P.I. Without the moustache. I want to be Knightrider. Without being gay, or driving a gay car. Not that there's anything wrong with that...
The only time I've really, really been annoyed with the police was when I was living in London. I was at the Notting Hill Festival, this really big street party where it takes you two hours to move 500m. Only 15 people got stabbed that particular year, so it was pretty tame.
We saw this guy start to assault his wife in front of 100 onlookers, but before he could throw another punch, this Massive Black Dude steps in and starts beating the crap out of the prick. The crowd gathered around going Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Street Justice, Muthafaka! Until they realised the vigilante who'd stepped in actually had a beer bottle in his hand and had knocked the guy out with it and then stabbed him after it broke. Repeatedly. In front of 100 people.
Where was I? Police? Yeah, so I was really Happy Drunk and I got to talking to this mounted police officer. About home: New Zealand. He'd been there, thought it was great.
And the next thing I know, HIS FREAKIN HORSE HAD IMPALED ITS HEAD ON MY CAN OF GUINNESS, YANKED IT CLEAN OUT OF MY HANDS, SWILLED BACK EVERY LAST BIT OF BLACK LIQUID GOLD, DROPPED IT ON THE GROUND AND CRUSHED IT WITH ITS FOOT. Then it let out this massive burp.
I stood there, shocked.
The cop sat there with a funny smile and gave this fake "oh, he's never done that before. Naughty, naughty horsey".
Now I know what police horse training consists mostly of.
Tomorrow is Valentines Day. I know this because it is also garbage day.
We don't celebrate Valentines Day. For various reasons. Primarily, because I am a Cheap Bastard. But I'm a little worried now. This morning The Missus asked what I was getting her:
"Errr, dunno. What are you getting me?"
"A big sloppy kiss. What are you getting me?"
"Uhhh …. How bout this? When we make love tomorrow, I'll actually pretend it's you this time".
She then beat the living snot out of me.
The cops came 10 hours later.
