During our time driving around looking for places to smoke we frequented an empty piece of land which was later to become a superstore.
It was hidden nicely out of the way on the outskirts of our town and there would often be two or three cars full of us sucking up some green, sickly fumes.
Inevitably the police cottoned on to the fact we were using this place as a kind of smoky hideout and eventually rocked up and searched us.
All of us had successfully hidden our treasures so other than a stern look and a grunt we got off scot free. (wanna know where the term “scot free” comes from? Click here)
We sauntered away like Ronnie Biggs (pre second arrest of course)
As bolshie teenagers we presumed that the police would not turn up again (hoping they would believe that we would never be so stupid as to arrive at roughly the same time the next day for exactly the same purpose......we were however, exactly that stupid)
This time they killed the engine of the car, turned off the lights and free wheeled up behind us completely unnoticed until they gave a quick flash of blue and were already out of the car....we were absolutely ruined and made no attempt to hide what we were doing.
They confiscated the pot they found on the dash board, which was not much more than the size of an M&M, and were intrigued by the pipe I was smoking. In a rather surreal 15 minutes I demonstrated how my pipe was designed to look like an inconspicuously large bolt but when in fact you screwed the components together in a different way it became a lovely brass pipe.
They gave me a ticket and told us not to be so stupid as to get caught again. The stop and search ticket was worth no more than bragging rights amongst friends.
The next day, guess what we did?
Yep, we went back..... same scenario although no pot confiscated this time however an abundance of resin stained smoking paraphernalia littered around the car meant we were of course busted again.
The police, to be fair, were quite polite and tried to make it clear that we were doing little else but wasting their time.
When asked if we wanted another ticket to keep a record of this search I said yes because I thought it would funny to show my friends two identical tickets dated a day after each other.
The policeman must have recognised the smugness in my tone and said “oh dear we seem to have run out of tickets, I’d better call the Sergeant”
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| Yes another Banksy....you know me by now guys |
Fuck......another car turned up with Copper Big Knob inside, I was made to feel small, threatened with cuffs and a sleepover before eventually being driven home in the back of their, admittedly well valeted, police car.
At my front door I went to thank them for the lift with the best shame face I could muster, hoping it would be a swift good bye but no, I was instructed to go and tell my parents or guardians that the police were at the door and needed a word.
I walked into the front room to see my mum watching TV and my dear old Nan knitting some hideous jumper that a close relative would more than likely have to feign affection for at some soon to be celebratory event.
There was no opportunity to ease them into the current scenario so I lead with “The police are at the door, I’ve been caught smoking pot”.....the look of devastation with a drizzle of confusion still haunts me a little today.
Long story short, after an emotional bollocking from the Mum / Nan double team I stormed from the house in typical teenage fashion to spend the night at a friends house.
It was a female friend who had rather understanding parents and occupied a 3 storey town house not far from my own home. I knocked and heard the second story window open, my friends mother glanced out into the dark before wordlessly ducking back in to advise my friend of the teenage shaped visitor.
I waited a few moments only to be met by my friend sporting a ridiculous look and then releasing a hearty laugh and point combo....not only had my friend spotted me looking rather glum on my recent voyage in the back of a police car her mother had suggested that a girl visitor had arrived (I had long hair and was pretty scrawny...although definitely didn’t have any chesticles). What a great way to enter my supposed “retreat”.
Eventually I went home and my mum was indescribably calm, she was honestly more concerned about me being in trouble with the police than she was about the particular substance that got me into that predicament.....I was warned against the danger of harder drugs and offered the opportunity to use our “utility room” as a second lounge so I could smoke pot outside the back door rather than wandering (or in our case driving) the streets and risk being caught again.
In reality the “utility room” was actually a single layer brick room that at one point would have been a coal shed attached to the back of our house...it was however mine, had its own entrance and was perfect in every way.
Next up maybe a little about my mental Auntie....until next time dull lovers
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