Last?
While very stoned and purchasing dairy-based munchies one evening in Mordor, it transpired that, at the other end of the shop, the cashier was rather suddenly being held up at gun point. Within moments Plod arrived, however (I presume the shop had a panic button), and the perps scarpered.

Our choice of cheesy comestibles was not yet done, however, and thus we continued in our quest, and soon enough a little man with a big hat came over to ask us what we had seen.

I say little man - he was quite literally about 5' tall, which was fascinating, particularly in my rather inebriated state.

"Excuse me, Sir - I imagine you're aware of what just happened - did you manage to get a look at the suspects? Are you able to furnish us with any details?"

He really was absolutely bloody tiny, and what with his hat on and bulletproof vest, looked a little like a Lego Man lost in the Great Big City.

I stared at him.

"Don't you have to be 6' tall to join the Met?" I enquired.

To his credit he didn't punch me repeatedly in the balls and then batter me over the head with his truncheon. "Not any more, Sir" he said trying to surpress a smile at my presumably rather idiot face at that point, "they've relaxed the height restriction now. Do I take it you weren't able to see anything from back here, then?"

I assured him I hadn't. "On your way then, Sir, and go careful now - there's a gunman about" he instructed us, grinning.

"What a nice man", I thought, as we wandered off, 24-hour garage-bound.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 12 May 2011, 11:15, Reply)