A long long time ago ...

A long long time ago, in a land far far away, I didn't always take taxis when travelling around London. Somehow, I had managed to cobble together enough resources to get myself a tiny little car, and I would actually risk driving myself around town on a regular basis. Life was pretty scary in those days.

Late one night, back in those distant times, on an almost deserted road, I can remember one particularly frightening incident (okay okay, it was Gracechurch Street in about 1991). I was happily driving my little car, minding my own business, when suddenly I see a police car behind me with flashing lights. I had no choice but to pull over and take what was coming to me :-(.

"Would you step out of the car please sir?"

"Errr OK officer."

"Step this way please."

I follow the copper round to the back of my car where his partner is waiting for me.

"Open the boot please, sir."

I duly comply. After a thorough search, they're not at all satisfied.

"OK, can I see your driving licence please, sir?"

I fish my driving licence out of my wallet, and hand it over. They look me up and down. Why, oh why, did I have to dress so gay that night? Luckily though, my driving licence divulges to them one of my qualifications.

"So you're a doctor eh? Sir!!"

"Ummmm, errrr, yes actually, I've got a PhD."

After a couple more questions, somehow he can tell that I'm not making it up. And from that moment on, the mood lightens considerably :-).

Soon I'm re-joining my friends in the car. We'd spent a happy evening at The Amateur Strip Contest in the White Swan (yes, it really has been going for that long), and I was in the process of giving them a lift home.

"How strange," I remark as I drive away, leaving the police car behind me. "That's never happened to me before, I wondered why they pulled me over?"

Everyone is quiet. It's boyfriend number 1, who's sitting on the back seat behind me, who breaks the silence. "You can be very naïve sometimes GB!"

"Uh huh," I reply confused, "what's up then?"

"Well," replies my friend who's sitting in the front passenger seat, "it's because of me!"

And suddenly it dawns on me. This friend looks almost exactly like Mr T. If that wasn't enough, it's clear that he doesn't belong in the car because he's too big for the seat he's sitting in. With a big black guy in a car where he looks uncomfortable, I guess we were sitting ducks!

The only reason for posting this story today is because of cuteCTguy's story yesterday. Although CuteCTGuy doesn't look like a terrorist to me, surely successful terrorists are exactly the ones who blend in? Anyway, after what happened to me back in 1991, I'm not going to try and pretend that the police aren't ever prejudiced!