If you are looking for Glamour, Gadgets and Grissom you won't find them here. Forget what you think you know about 'Forensics', these are the tales of one man and his brush. Of course these views do not represent the views of any Police Force or indeed reflect any Force Policies ya da ya.
Sunday, 1 July 2007
One day I was walking my dog nearby the local station, on our way back home our paths cross with a couple of friendly constables, we exchange pleasantries and we continue home. The remainder of our walk is interrupted by some idiot on a Mini-Moto tearing up the pavement like a bad-boy 40 year old with no brains, which is not surprising considering he was a brainless boy in his 40s. Rotten luck thought I, he has just missed some of the Queens finest who surely would have reprimanded him quite tersely. I did think of phoning myself, but didn't want to be that person who phones constantly and I was hoping he'd give up and go home.
We continue our walk and the diminutive Barry Sheen turns a corner, seconds later more constables appear in a vehicle turning from another corner, I try to get their attention but to no avail and I feel another opportunity for justice has passed. Our walk continues with the distance sound of an overworked giant hairdryer motor singing into the evening.
We stop off at the local shop for a bottle of water, when who should walk in behind me, but our very own Easy Rider, looking very flushed he speaks and addresses all the patrons in the shop, 'I don't suppose any of you have found £40 in two £20 pound notes, they were in my pocket a minute ago and it's now gone?' ....... Silence! Oh how I laughed, twice this man was lucky enough to bypass the local fuzz and eventually he got his come-uppence . For once the Karma Gods were on my side.