Failure to Disperse

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a short story about the night I was cruelly arrested in my local town centre after what can only be described as a heavy night of drinking!

Submitted: January 16, 2013

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Submitted: January 16, 2013

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My night in Cell 6....

 

On arrival in Basingstoke, (not that I remember) I was violently sick next to a cash machine...that is what you call a 'Double Withdrawal' it has happened many times and will probably happen many more times. I resumed the night out, remembering very little of the next hour or so, flashbacks and other peoples memories is all I have to work with.

 

In the next bar, the real fun of the evening began, firstly, I passed out, standing up, taking out myself and a stool and ending up under a table. Classy lad!!

We then moved on, fun part numero 2, I was refused entry into a local bar/club; after the 'Double Withdrawal' and 'The Bar Stool Take Out' the bouncers at this club had probably made a relatively fair assessment of my state, they knew I was well and truly done!

However, after the 3rd rejection of the night, I took offence to not being allowed entry and began to verbally 'banter' (I feel abuse is to harsh a word) the door staff. They grew to dislike this 'banter' pretty quickly and called in 'The Fuzz'. I was asked to leave the Town Centre with immediate effect...they even said I couldn't get a takeaway, devastating news!

 

I decided leaving the Town Centre was a bad idea, I was, after all, heavily drunk and full of the thoughts of Spring, going home was not an option...just yet. So I went to another bar for a cheeky drink, this was mistake 1! This drink was polished off, time to go home you ask?! Oh no, not me. Here comes mistake 2... instead of turning left and going home, I turned right and made my way to the top of town, in search of a takeaway, or a girl, I am still unsure of which....in my state it would not have mattered, with the state of some Basingstoke girls and kebabs, either option would have been greasy, unhealthy and expensive!!

 

At the top of town I bumped into some friends and began chatting...bollocks...here came the coppers from earlier...do I run or do I wait and hope they are as blind as me. I took the latter option, mistake 3! Hand's were behind my back, handcuffs were on and I was lead away.

 

...This was massively demoralising and embarrassing, marched past 3 very busy bars, in handcuffs, by 2 policemen, not ideal! I did however find it slightly amusing having to stop at the traffic lights to wait for the 'green man' to come up so we could cross.

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On arrival in the 'Holding Cell' I was welcomed by a young lady, slightly upset, either to see me or just to be arrested, most probably both!

I sat in this 'area' still handcuffed, still drunk, chatting, what can only be described as, utter bollocks!! This random girl kept giving me weird looks, tears in her eyes, then she said "You are weird...what is wrong with you?!" Condemned by a fellow felon, could the evening get worse...of course it could!

I carried on talking, and carried on being annoying, pretty standard stuff plus, this girl wasn't finished, she had more to add... "Don't let him touch me...get him away from me..." she was duly escorted to the adjacent bench.

Now, I'm no genius, but how was she expecting me to touch her?! I was handcuffed, hands behind back... Was I thrusting erotically, was I testing her foot fetish?? Who knows, but whatever it was, she wasn't impressed/amused.

To sum it all up, in a moment of quiet, my phone rang and out blasted the 'Only Fools and Horses' theme...how bliming apt!!

 

I left the holding cell and was taken to the desk sergeant to be processed, all belongings removed from pockets, belt off, money counted....£44.51, touch!! DNA was taken, brush in mouth, fingerprints...it was an experience, the lady carrying this out didn't seem to have a sense of humour though. Firstly, being called "Love" over and over didn't impress her, secondly, on noticing my right thumb has no 'fingerprint', I commented... "makes it easier for me to case joints on a Friday night!"

The stare I was met with was one I haven't seen since I pissed on my Rupert the Bear aged 7!!

 

I was then taken to the cell, shoes removed, handed 2 blankets and left to 'sober up'. I fell straight to sleep, like a baby! I didn't really realise what was going on until I awoke, cold, hungover and not really sure what the hell had happened the night before! I frequented the En-Suite 'facilities' why I thought about my sins.

I was soon handed a brew and a cup of water, I've stayed at worse B & B's!!

As I sobered up more, I got bored and tetchy, only the loud buzzing noise of the heating system could be heard. It crossed my mind to knock out some press ups but that was a bit to Charles Bronson and not enough Jeffrey Archer, so I decided to wait...and to reflect some more.

 

A while later, I was ushered from the cell...to be interviewed. This was the biggest waste of time in the history of time wasting...I stated I was wrong and that I was drunk and an idiot, the officer duly agreed but he did say I was fully compliant and obviously a nice lad with a proper job etc etc. Character reference from a copper...check!

I returned to 'Cell 6' and waited to be released...this came an hour and a half after the interview...and another nap in the cell! I was released with a caution, a few stern reminders and my belongings.

 

What a night! One I won't forget for a very long time.

 

Spend a night in a cell...check!

 

 

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