mostly david ephgrave

Today, I had a run-in with The Fuzz. It’s not every day you interact with filth; in fact, I’ve seldom smelt bacon round my parts (which is not a euphemism). I can count the times the scum have knocked on my door twice, which is representative of the amount of occasions they’ve visited and not my counting ability. Thankfully, the Old Bill rarely darken my doorstep, as narks have more important things to do with their day. (I’ll abandon the cop slang now, as these vernacular references to The Man are getting tedious.) The police - ‘the law’ and not the rock group, hence the lack of capitalisation - came by on my invitation. When I left home this morning, I noticed the front window of the flat opposite had been smashed. I didn’t have time to explore, as (1) I was on my way to a chiropractor appointment, and (2) I’m not adept at wrestling burglars, but I didn’t want it on my conscience if something untoward had taken place - so I phoned the boy...