Would it be considered really bad form to pea some roasts?
So, I was in a car crash. Nothing too strange there, Witnesses pulled over and one even called the police for me (considering the woman who drove into me was showing signs of being worse for wear).
Now, I hadn't long passed my test, and as such, was acting driver for many. On this particular occasion, three stunning girls from work, any one of whom I would have gladly got in the back of the car with.
The police arrived, and questioned/breathalised all and sundry. As one male officer walked to the back of the car to take details, numberplate and such, he happened to glance in the boot. Sitting in plain sight was a three foot by two foot Metropolitan police sign and a number of cones marked up the same. He looked at me, and beckoned me to the side of the road again. Here we go, I thought, this is almost as bad as that time I nearly got caught going through customs. (A whole other story I may find it in myself to regale you with later.)
He paused, and leant forward to speak "quietly" in my ear.
"One thing I don't understand... How come there's one of you and three of them?"
I smiled in that 'I'm wishing' kind of way. He looked at me with a puzzled grimace then walked away from the back of the car, leading his suspicious collegues away from the crime scene.
Treatment from that moment was awesome. Not enough could be done to ensure I was allowed to go on my way (to the pool party I forgot to mention earlier) with everything left intact. The girls were quite impressed with my demeanor. I even managed to cop off with one at the party!
The bint who dented the Purple Pisspot (Mum's car) got done for dangerous driving.

Here's another;

Bike cops rule!
Driving my lovely old green mini (yes, I was a hippy) back from the centre of London, I had a problem. There was no clutch. Thankfully, my dad had taught me to double de-clutch, so changing gear wasn't a problem, either up or down the gears. The only issue was getting it going from a full stop. So every set of lights had me jumping out of the car, pushing it till it was up to speed, then jumping back in and getting it into first.
I made it as far as Putney in this manner, where I was watched, then tugged, by a bike cop. Ignoring the lack of tax disc, he asked me to pop the bonnet. After a minute of having his head under it, he said it was the clutch slave cylinder. He pointed me in the direction of a motor factors, just 30 yards away.
I got the part, while he waited next to my car to make sure it didn't get a ticket! Then he went and fitted it for me in the rain no less. I can only assume he was impressed at my clutchless skills, or just took pity on a barefooted hippy making his way back from Whirlygig (back in the good days).
I'd like to take this opportunity to thank this London bike cop again for his help. (Are bike cops really a different breed?)

Apologies for the saccharic thanks, Mr bike cop- YOU ROCK.


Sorry to bring 'em up again, I have some other stories I shall try to refine for this question.
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Fri 6 May 2011, 13:35, 2 replies)

Whirligig's still going.
Not been myself but I hear it's great fun. :)
(idle insomniac enjoys listening to Sigur Rós at stupid hours, Fri 6 May 2011, 21:39, closed)

I went back about 11 years ago to see how it was.
All changed. Less hippy more ravey. Not impressed:-( not dared go back since!
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Sat 7 May 2011, 8:34, closed)