Churchill promises to beat my renewal quote, but I don't really care.

Anyone who has seen me recently will probably know that, in these cold conditions, I wear my leather gloves and keep my hood up. The current state of my hair is also another reason that I keep my hood up, but it's mostly because it's fookin' cold. Anyway, I happened to be in Chalfont yesterday, visiting a friend, who will remain nameless is an attempt to provoke some sort of complaint over the lack of a namecheck in this post. They might not care, but hey, it's worth a try.

Anyway, after the visit, I walked on over to the train station, my hood up and my gloves on. It turned out I had gone round the back into the car park as opposed to going to the front, so I turned around and began to walk back. I noticed a police car stopping nearby, and a police woman (haha!) stepping out of the car and saying something. I was trying to work out how to get to the front, so the fact that no-one else was there so she could have only been talking to me didn't really register, so I kept walking. Then, with a booming, firm and slightly irritated voice, she said something among the lines of "I'm talking to YOU! Get your hands in the air!" So I turned to her, and replied "Why don't you get your hands in the air?", and strolled off.

That was a lie. I haven't been told to put my hands up by a police officer before, but I assumed that if one does ask you to put your hands up, you should really comply, or they'll blast you away with shotguns, one wielded in each hand. So I raised my hands to head height, and asked her why the fuck she's beefing with me, though not worded like that exactly. She then informed me that I matched the description of someone involved in 'an incident' that took place nearby, and that if I put my hands in my pockets, she "wouldn't take to kindly to that". Just as I started wondering what incident I might have just been accused of, she called up some other niggas and asked for back-up. Within about ten seconds, I could heard dem sirens comin', and two other police cars whizzed onto the scene, and a total of four police officers had surrounded me.

Holy fuck. I'm being accused of murder.


It turned out that I fit the description of someone who burgled a nearby residence then ran off. So, they searched me, finding my fake I.D., which they cut in two with a pair of scissors and gave back to me. They didn't find anything else troublesome though. Thank God I quit my crack habit.

After about a half-hour grilling, they began to ease off me, realizing that they were too quick to assume that I was behind the crime, purely because of the colour of my skin. So, they let me off, with nothing but a slip with all the details and a reminder that I should empty out my pockets every once in a while. I always had a feeling walking around in gloves and a hood would get into trouble with tha muthafuckin' filth, but I didn't think it would involve such brutality.

tl;dr, here's what happened yesterday.


Anyway, I haven't really got anything else to say, I just wanted to inform you all of what a tough motherfucker I am. Now excuse me, I need to go drink some water. I've just had a flashback of the New Years tequila shots and it's making me feel uneasy.