My luck finally ran out with the dreaded British Transport Police today.
I got nicked.
Nearly
Well, after two days of buying tickets in the morning as I’ve been scared of being caught, this morning I was running later than usual. This was rush hour… perfect inspecting time. But I took a risk and jumped on without.
At Euston Square I saw them fasands and fasands of em. Well, three. But gathering round my door. This was going to be tough. I opted to make a run for it. I stepped of the bus, a young looking British Transport Police Officer was asking for my ticket. I had the one from yesterday in my pocket.
I gave it to him
He looked at it.
Looked at me
Looked at it.
Said, thank you very much Sir.
I reached out to grab it. Then he said. “Uh-oh – what date is it today Sir?”
Shit. I was nicked.
I started to think about reasoning, but instead opted to say the sentence I’d always wanted to say for real “it’s a fair cop guv”. He said “nice try”. And I suddenly felt I was on ITV3.
I’ve been through the next bit before, they check my name and address then go off to write me a letter then I wait until letters get scary before paying the £20 fine. Boooooring.
Only this time there was some kind of problem.
They were checking my name and address. Asking me if I was registered to vote. Yes I said.
Then “where are you from?” I told them Cheltenham, “and your date of Birth is 17th January 1980?” Yes it is. The two of them had a little chat. I heard them saying, “date of birth is coming back as 1978″
This was exciting. For some reason I fancied making a run for it. But then remembered that in this day and age I might get shot. Then I remembered that this was British Transport Police and the worst they could do was shout not shoot. But still I elected to stay put.
They checked my details with the person on the radio thingy. He gave them my description then asked me “you ever been in trouble with the police Sir?”
ooh.
No. I said (and I haven’t, ever – in fact, quite the opposite, when I was 17 I was in a leaflet recruiting special constables – although I played the part of moody gay looking attacker with bad jumper).
“Well Sir, we’ve got someone with very similar details who has been a very naughty boy” (Yes he actually said very naughty boy).
Now I should probably be getting worried. But actually I was finding this to be great fun. I was rather hoping I’d get arrested. It would be a fun way to spend the day, as long as I get out in time for big gig tonight. I fear this made me look less innocent as I was trying to work out how to act innocent, all I could do was look shifty and smirk.
I wonder if the Guildford 4 got arrested with this same cavalier attitude, presuming they’d be out the same day.
He handed me his glove. I thought this was odd. He said to take it. I was half concerned that later, after a beaten out forced confession I’d be accused of trying to steal it. But I doubted that would happen, he had nice eyes. So I did.
He said “AHA… Right handed, oldest trick in the book” I felt tempted to point out he wans’t Morse, but some guy in the British Transport Police harrassing bus goers. But I didn’t, I was too busy saying to him “No, I’m left handed, it’s just that my left hand is in my pocket, it’s cold”. It was – and the irony being, I’d left my gloves at home.
He seemed annoyed. But maybe this was what I needed because in a horrific anti climax he let me go.
But had best excuse when shitty boss asked me why I was late…