Friday, 7 October 2011

An unwelcome brush with the Law


A Sunday morning brush with the Law


One Sunday morning ten years ago I was taking a load of rotted muck with the tractor and trailer down to an allotment in town, on the way I had to pass the police depot along side the M6 motorway.

As I was loaded I did a rolling exit out of a road junction, but unfortunately a motorway patrol car was just coming down off the bridge, (they were just going for a tea break, and thought I had no brakes), I carried on over the bridge and in another quarter mile, then a siren started blasting and headlights and beacons flashing. They pulled diagonally across the road in front of me, as if to test my brakes, the brakes were spot on and did not ram them as they deserved.


One officer went round the outfit and found nothing wrong, so I was loaded into the back of the patrol car and locked in. I might add that around rotted damp muck ruck ya boot get mighty clogged up with muck and all this went into the back of the patrol car. They took a note of my insurance they had already seen the up to date tax disc. So there nothing else to do but breathalyse me, they said keep blowing, blow, blow, blow, all I had drunk, as all I ever drink was tea.


Not able to pin anything on me or the outfit, one got out and unlocked the door to let me out, can you imagine a pair of size twelve wellington boots well clogged up with muck, and the two front seats well pushed back for their comfort, left me no option but to wipe my feet on the way out.


I think they were too lazy to find anything on the motorway to make up their daily quota and found me as a soft touch. It was just a pity it was not pig muck, they would have remembered that.

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