Pete's congas
French knickers

"...when I dropped my trousers, any credibility that I had went straight down the pan."

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French knickers

I was driving the bus on the way to a gig. For some reason I was on my own, I can’t remember why now, maybe it was one of the local gigs and I was meeting the band there. I was pulled over by the Old Bill for some reason. I’m not sure what the problem was now. Anyway, my only concern at the time was that this was going to make me late, and I was carrying a syringe loaded with Methadrine in my top pocket. For some reason these two coppers didn’t like the look of my face and, convinced that I was up to no good, started to search my pockets. I kept on trying to tell them to be careful but before I could stop him one of these coppers thrust his hand into my top pocket. He let out a loud yell and groaning with pain quickly withdrew his hand, but it was too late, hanging off his little finger was the now empty syringe.

“Fuck, that’s blown it”, I thought to myself but I tried to remain calm. “It’s O.K.”, I tried to reassure the other police officer, “Don’t worry, your friend will be fine. It was only ‘speed’, he’ll be alright in a few hours.”

Unfortunately the policeman looked unconvinced, as by now his colleague was beginning to laugh hysterically. “O.K. Sunshine you’re nicked” he said.

The next thing I knew, I was being bundled off to the local police station, where I desperately tried to explain that I was road manager for the Organisation and that the syringe belonged to Graham who was registered so everything was cool. I thought that I was beginning to get through to them but they still wanted to confirm my story and check that my arms and legs had no needle marks.

I was ordered to strip. It was then that I panicked as I suddenly remembered what had happened earlier, and the true horror of the situation hit me. Now you might think this sounds a bit funny but it’s the honest truth. I’d had a quick bath earlier and was running late but when I went to get dressed I couldn’t find any clean underpants anywhere. In desperation I picked up a pair of Bridgit’s silk knickers and tried them on. I can remember standing in front of the mirror and having a bit of a giggle. I wasn’t sure that pink was my colour but they felt surprisingly comfortable.

Hurriedly I finished dressing, rushed out of the house and thought no more about it until now! I tried to refuse to strip but it was useless. You can imagine what happened when I dropped my trousers, any credibility that I had went straight down the pan. There was I standing up in full view of everyone wearing nothing but a pair of pink silk knickers. The whole police station erupted into a hail of cat calls and wolf whistles, they were all falling about laughing and I just wanted to die.

Because the police could find no needle marks on my body anywhere they finally agreed to ring our management and check my story. Graham eventually turned up to rescue me. Before I clapped eyes on him I heard his voice thundering through the police station demanding my release. I don’t think the police knew what had hit them when Graham strode into the station clad in full length flowing purple robes and waving an enormous staff. “There you are Pete, are you alright?” he boomed, hugging me dramatically.

“Interesting taste in clothes you and your friend have”, muttered the sergeant at the desk. “Clear off quickly before I lock both of you up”. I have never been so embarrassed in my whole life and scuttled out of there feeling about two inches tall. I don’t think I’ll ever live that one down.

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