Sunday, 29 January 2017

Alternative Career: Policeman...

Pros: Oooh, I’m pissed out of my head with power just thinking about it… I’d be a rozzer, a copper, a pig, a porker - and I’d have a talking brooch. I’d be able to grab thieving pensioners by the scruff of their necks, reclaim the pilfered can of economy beans from their arthritic grasp and shout, ‘You’re going down for this, you slaaaaaag!’ I would always know the correct time and the free kinky stuff they give you is a definite pull: I’m thinking love truncheons, hard helmets, handcuffs and erm, pepper spray. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, eh? Plus, the uniform is a standard regulation black which is not only thinning (hurrah) but will also bring out the dark circles under my eyes. Perfect.

Cons: Rather than arresting light-fingered pensioners and the terminally poor, I’d probably help them in their quest to consume three square meals a day. It wouldn’t end with the coffin-dodgers, either. Being the soft leftie that I am, I think I’d administer my own liberal form of justice and just let everyone off. I can see it now: they’d give me a sob story about an ill relative or a sickly animal or tell me that they were riddled with something or other and I’d be helping them fill up their swag bags before giving them a lift home. Also, I’m pretty corrupt when I think about it. I’d be taking bribes left, right and centre. Not only that, but supposing my talking brooch radioed through to me that I needed to attend an armed robbery and apprehend the baddies, I have a strong feeling that I’d think, ‘Get shot for 25K a year? Nah, you’re alright, thanks.’ Then I’d probably hide in the loo with my love truncheon or cuff myself to my own bed, like some rancid old slag. Under my watch, crime rates would soar and to be honest, that’s fine by me, which isn’t really the best attitude for someone who’s job it is to enforce the ass that is the law. Also - I've said it before and I'll say it again - hats of any description make me look like a simpleton.

Chances: You know what? I can’t really be bothered. Besides, it’s enough that I’m a gayer; if my Dad found out that I was a bent cop (do you like what I did there?) he’d probably implode… In that case, when can I start?

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