It goes without saying that I have done many things in my life that have warranted arrest. Public Fornication, fraud, vandalism, a myriad of substance abuses and obviously intoxication rank high on my list of debaucheries. Arguably Date Rape too I'm sure, though I maintain I was at least as trashed as those Ive supposedly victimised. These have proved, so far, to avoid, amazingly, the detection of the Law.
One night two years ago however, all this changed. I found myself thrust into a faceless, nameless, ludicrous system some in the Eastern Suburbs call Justice. And why, sweet readers? Well i guess I'll admit it. Please don't judge me or anything....I know its pretty bad, but
I Stole A Pie.
Not just any pie, nay, as the police report attests, but a Mrs Mac's Chicken and Vegetable Home Style Pie, valued at $2.20. And I got caught. Bad.
I Hear you ask Why? Why, Babes, Why? Why oh Why Did you steal that Pie?
So let me explain.
A gentleman finds, at certain hours in a well-endowed social life, a meal is necessary to sustain his indulgences. I mean that i was bloody trashed, and needed to eat so bad I was gonna vomit. I also needed to continue my partying, after some nameless piss-peddling opening at Artspace.
So, though the details remain still sketchy in my Becks and Bubbles soaked mind, I went into K RD Mart, stalked to the "ban marie" , grabbed the famous pie, and simply walked out. I didn't consider, however, the Surveillance cameras. Around an hour later, as I was scurrying off to Suite Bar, a Police Car pulled up beside me on the street. Panicking, I started to run, and of course, two police officers launched from the vehicle and pursued an energetic chase after your frantic and mortified blogger.
After catching me ( I was wearing inappropriate shoes for such a chase) they proceeded to cuff me. I will confess that in light of my slight and seemingly harmless appearance I suffered no large amount of brutality one may expect from the burly hands of the Law.....
BUT THEY CUFFED ME!!!!!
Yes, a rough manacle around my sweet little suburban wrists. The Shame. Any pretence of accepting arrest with a scrap of dignity went out the window. The duration of the car trip to the station I yelped "I want to speak to a Lawyer, I want to speak to my Mother" over and over and over again, no doubt in a slurring and barely cohesive manner. In fact, the whole trip I was constantly questioned about my actions over the course of the night, to which my answer was always the above chant. I guess a lifetime of American cop-telly really does impact on the delusion of ones rights when one is arrested.
Once at the station, I absurdly insisted that I had AIDS, A private-cell obtaining mechanism I had seen on Party Monster. Incredibly, though the boys in blue did seem skeptical, this actually worked. Once in a cell, they processed me relatively quickly, finger-printed me, and finally let me call my mother.
At this stage it was about 2am. On the phone, absolutely pissed as a chook, I called Mummy, who has been a member of Alcoholics Anonymous for about four years. Whoops. She was in Sydney trying to enjoy a weekend break. I relayed the entire story, including the AIDS subplot, which at this time I felt was completely hilarious. It's fair to say she found it less funny.
Upon receiving a court appearance date and being released, I went down to Suite Bar, where Matt from North Shore Pony Club was doing a set.
And that, sweet readers, is only the beginning of this affair. Oh yes, theres more, if you can muster belief. For no man, woman nor scenester is above the Great Might of The Law.........
TO BE CONTINUED......