So I stole a fucking pie, got caught, was given a Hearing date.
The night before coincided with a heavily medicated binge. This took place at a ridiculously fabulous upward-coming photographers house, a girl whom, with the aide of a bit of old money and a highly successful divorce, ended up sniffing the good part of $40k in six months. She was never thinner though.....
My other comrade that evening/morning/few days was Auckland's Best Dressed and Most High cutie/fashionista we will affectionately call "the Rooster". Shes fondly known for her vintage Moschino, Furs, Heels-on-the-Beach and being able to get a ticket to anything at Fashion Week due to her food-catering family, of which each member is more eccentric than the last, brilliantly.
Giddy with our own Fabulousness and other substances, it was natural that we stayed up all night, scraping the mirror right up to an hour before I was due in court.
The Rooster was to accompany me. At the last second, she threw on a black & white striped dress, massive black hat and an even bigger pair of sunglasses and signature stomping heels. Basically an outfit for a day at the races, if people actually dressed well at the tracks. I chucked on an outfit from said photographers rack, which on reflection was quite clearly a woman's blouse. Oops.
And we sauntered off to Court. I at this stage had visions of a glamorous day at the gorgeous Supreme Court, all turret's and steeples and marble. Not so. Imagine your bloggers surprise when, Horror of Horrors, he was slopped in to the District Court with the hoi poll oi on Albert Street? Now surely that is the more sordid crime! Lino & Veneer in a non-ironic context? Eeek!
I was appointed a Lawyer, who turned out to be a regular customer from the sorely missed cafe Brazil on K Rd where I used to work. Of course. Officially I was a Law Abiding Boy, so I had the option of using my diversion, which I did. The whole thing would be over once I made a $300 donation to the New Zealand AIDS Foundation, appropriately, and sent a letter of apology to the convenience store where I committed this grave injustice.
Now I'm a very busy person. Moreover, all the money that I have I need to spend on Dinners, Drinks and Cigarettes....you understand. As time went by I was lulled into a false sense of security. They, surely, would never catch up with me.....
I went to Vanuatu. No warrant for my arrest. I went to Sydney. No cuffs at Customs. Well! Phew! That was a Freebie!
I had moved House. To my panic, two police officers showed up at my old place looking for me....Fuck.
They caught up with me in the end, when, completely trashed, I got into a Taxi after leaving my bag in the care of a friend. Fessing up, the Taxi driver took me straight to the Police Station where, upon a check of my passport, which hellishly was in my front pocket, the coppers found my secret shame on the records. They had charged me under a mispelt version of my name, hence getting through customs.
So once again, I called Mother. A $3227 Lawyer Fee and a $152.20 (inclusive of cost of pie) donation to the Salvation army and I got entirely off, no conviction.
But I ask you, Sweeties, If I hadn't been able to afford a Lawyer (well, if Mum couldn't) would things have been the same?