What is it with policemen?
Did they always look like that or is it just as I’ve gotten older and they’ve gotten younger?
Is it some middle aged chemical imbalance that is causing me to hyperventilate every time I see an orange and white Vauxhall Astra. Or is it some deeply primitive, long suppressed female urge to be taken firmly in hand by a man who, can not only punish you with handcuffs, but can also drive his car really, really fast through the town centre.
I have, in recent weeks, had reason to come into contact with a particularly ‘firm-looking’ CID officer, (seriously, don’t ask). Despite the fact that we have spoken on the telephone several times about the issue on which we are both involved, (I told you not to ask) I don’t know what the etiquette is when it comes to ‘getting my pull on’.
Should I just ring up the Five-O-Station, ask to be put through to DC Hotty-McFitty and inform him that I’ll be committing a crime at around 8pm tonight, at the Italian restaurant on the High Street, that he must not tell the other Feds but to please come and apprehend me alone?
Firmly, if at all possible.
Should I leave a note saying ‘I heart DC-Dashing’ at reception? Stage a kidnap? Burgle somewhere?
I have his mobile number on the contact sheet he gave me but maybe texting him to drop round mine with a bottle of Merlot, two glasses and his Kevlar Vest classes as an abuse of police property.
He calls about ‘the issue’ but that’s all that is discussed. He does call about ‘the issue’ pretty frequently though. Probably more than is actually required.
Maybe he is just doing his job thoroughly. Between you and me, however, that concept just makes the whole situation worse because, like most women, I’m a bit partial to a chap who believes that a job worth doing is a job worth doing well.
Oh dear. What to do. What to doooooooo?
I know, I’ll go and buy a new radiator.
Coincidentally enough, the shop that I need to discuss my sudden radiator requirements in, is right next door to Sexy-CID-Central.
Wish me luck.
With finding a new radiator, obviously.
(Insert girly-giggling here).