zoidberg
Well-Known Member
I suffered a 'Hard Stop' a few years ago....
I was woken in the night by a Security Company's duty officer telephoning. "You're a keyholder for your neighbour's house on our contract, and the alarms have gone off. Could you go and check if there's a problem?"
I knew my wealthy neighbours were away again - Palma, Peru, Thailand - that the trees outside were thrashing about in a gale, and that the whipping of branches had probably set off the movement alarms again, but I threw on a coat and some slippers, and set off up the 150 yard drive to check. Halfway there, the rain came on again hard, but I continued round the outside of the Big House, checking doors and windows, with ( as usual ) no sign of entry.
Halfway back down the drive, muttering and cursing as the rain streamed off me, I was confronted by two charging police vehicles - full headlights, blue flashers and two-tone horns - slithering to a halt in front of me. The doors flew open, and a young voice shouted "Armed police. Put down your weapon. Hands up...."
I dropped my torch. I raised my hands. My raincoat hung open, showing my bare legs, my soaked pajamas and slippers, my white hair plastered down by the cold driving rain....
"What are you doing here?" came the shouted and excited challenge from behind the glaring headlights.
"I'm going back to f****** bed. Back down the drive, where I live...."
You could hear the laughter of the other cops in Bristol!
Anyway, most of them pushed off, and I brought the two 'gunslingers' in while I put the kettle on, towelled dry, and made some coffee. It emerged that 'they' were two Armed Response Units patrolling not far away - they didn't explain why - and my neighbour's house was on some sort of 'List'. He wasn't a political, or a 'mandarin', and I never found out.
The pair of 'sheriffs' looked distinctly uncomfortable sat there in all their body armour, gun belts and kit, while they wrote up some sort of notes... "Two sugars, please, and no milk".... but I told them that, next time they arrested me for 'doing my neighbour bit', they'd 'better bring their own bluddy biscuits'.
I was woken in the night by a Security Company's duty officer telephoning. "You're a keyholder for your neighbour's house on our contract, and the alarms have gone off. Could you go and check if there's a problem?"
I knew my wealthy neighbours were away again - Palma, Peru, Thailand - that the trees outside were thrashing about in a gale, and that the whipping of branches had probably set off the movement alarms again, but I threw on a coat and some slippers, and set off up the 150 yard drive to check. Halfway there, the rain came on again hard, but I continued round the outside of the Big House, checking doors and windows, with ( as usual ) no sign of entry.
Halfway back down the drive, muttering and cursing as the rain streamed off me, I was confronted by two charging police vehicles - full headlights, blue flashers and two-tone horns - slithering to a halt in front of me. The doors flew open, and a young voice shouted "Armed police. Put down your weapon. Hands up...."
I dropped my torch. I raised my hands. My raincoat hung open, showing my bare legs, my soaked pajamas and slippers, my white hair plastered down by the cold driving rain....
"What are you doing here?" came the shouted and excited challenge from behind the glaring headlights.
"I'm going back to f****** bed. Back down the drive, where I live...."
You could hear the laughter of the other cops in Bristol!
Anyway, most of them pushed off, and I brought the two 'gunslingers' in while I put the kettle on, towelled dry, and made some coffee. It emerged that 'they' were two Armed Response Units patrolling not far away - they didn't explain why - and my neighbour's house was on some sort of 'List'. He wasn't a political, or a 'mandarin', and I never found out.
The pair of 'sheriffs' looked distinctly uncomfortable sat there in all their body armour, gun belts and kit, while they wrote up some sort of notes... "Two sugars, please, and no milk".... but I told them that, next time they arrested me for 'doing my neighbour bit', they'd 'better bring their own bluddy biscuits'.