Rozzers in da House

The police station

"Um", my mind was Friday-morning numb, "a Policeman from your 0845 number told me I need to report a traffic incident". It sounded lame.

The lady desk rozzer was all a-fluster at first - I had asked if I would remain anonymous to Dogtits if I made an official complaint (or reported the crime, as I put it). She couldn't confirm or deny that I could be left with an angry dick-weed in my letterbox but consulted a friend who guessed I should be okay outside of Court.

I was handed a standard form that was designed for reporting an accident. She said to use my imagination. This grated a bit because I wanted to give an honest account and the form did ask for a signature with fear of penalty for any untruth so imagination was far from what I needed to demonstrate on it. Then again, she probably does more of this kind of paperwork in the Police and is used to being creative to get a result.

There wasn't much room to write my story - even in the briefest of terms. I needed a continuation sheet but had to use a blank piece of paper. I used my intuition in labelling the sheet and signing it to match those on the official form.

Writers' cramp soon set in. At least I'd been invited to use a desk. I started my account hunched over the low punter's desk designed for those in wheelchairs. (It's funny, but you're allowed to ride a 4-wheel chariot into the Cop Shop but I bet you'd quickly get your ear chewed for riding a bicycle in there - half the wheels and double the trouble!)

Finally, I finished. The lady cop was firmly on my side and showed a suitable amount of sensitivity toward me but I was expecting some victim support in the way of a cup of tea. An hour later and my lips were still dry.

Now, will anything come of it? A full description of Dogtits and his phone, a registration plate, and a time and location of the incident. Hmm. I don't know.

What would I like to happen? Well, Dogtits is still a TWAT and I can't say as I feel I should show any more courtesy than he did to me, but I can't say as I want any action taken. I'd be satisfied that he was "seen" and that he can't hide his phallic inadequacies and Oedipus complex behind the wheel of a car with such a simple to remember licence plate.

A centre for Police intelligence

I'd rather the Police deal with him anyway. I've watched their 2005-2007 advertising campaign where the Police people have their resolve tested among scroats; I don't need the test. I'd be a shit copper. I'd kick Dogtit's freaking lights out for endangering me like that; and give him a did in the balls for taking on any biker with such poor manner.

In a way it's a shame he didn't hit the bike. Then, at least, I'd have something to hang the bastard with (although, why do I feel he was uninsured?) or the presence of mind to have collected witnesses! (Lesson learned).

For now I'll be left in a wondering limbo of "I wonder..."