We're currently experiencing a mini heatwave here in the glorious kingdom of Britisher land. Last night, our dog Charlie was merrily making a nuisance of himself by winding up all the other dogs in their respective gardens. As I went to do my eco-friendly bit by putting an empty plastic bottle of water in our recycle bin, Charlie came running down to our side gate doing his nut and making his now famous impression of a Rottweiler, which is hysterical as he is actually two-foot nothing in stature.
Where I live is nice, but I suppose in this day and age, it's irrelevant where you live because crime doesn't care about its surroundings.
A little while ago, I posted about how we had a police siege on my road. The guy at the end of the street is a bit strange; his wife, I believe, is bedridden. I've never seen her, and we've lived here for over thirty years now. From what I've heard via gossip, the husband, who is nearly 80, loses it with his wife, sometimes violently. He also collects antique guns, so the rozzers love it because they can turn up with their Glock side arm and Heckler & Koch MP5 and stride along our Cul-de-sac like they're surrounding the Nakatomi Plaza. Oh, and just to sprinkle some seasoning into the mix, the son, who lives with them, according to the gossip, sells drugs, although I don't see that many people coming to the house, so I'm not sure.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah. So I'm putting the empty bottle in the bin, and Charlie comes to the side gate barking. I hear voices on the other side of the fence. I go into my front room to look out the window and see two ambulance crews walking a guy I've never seen before down the road, and he is covered in blood! The next thing I know, two plain clothes BMWs turn up and pop out these two.
The dude in the foreground did make me laugh. He was an overweight little gunslinger wannabe as he waddled up the road with his hand on the butt of his pistol.
Eventually, we must have had twenty cops; it was like a free-for-all with sirens and blue lights flashing from the four corners of the county. Down the road were an ambulance, a paramedic estate car, riot vans, and assorted squad cars. Then came the helicopters!
There was a police one; however, the one here is an Air Ambulance. That had to land two streets away, and what a waste because no other wounded appeared. I watched for about another half an hour and got bored, to be honest. I did have a quick look outside my front door, and there was some ambulance staff outside the house I guessed where the trouble was. This morning, while walking Charlie past the now quiet crime scene, I couldn't see any blood or damaged front door, so all in all, yet another incident was blown out of proportion if you ask me.
I did, by the way, resist shouting out of the bedroom window:
(In a French accent) "You'll never take me alive, copper!"
My actual name is Pete. Here is why I have the username dickturpin.
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