My friend, Reza, is a translator in Farsi and invited me to accompany him today to the local Court house where attended to translate for a client. We both erroneously assumed it would take about ten minutes of contact as opposed to the 2 hours it did take. I had planned to go for a walk while he did his job and returned to find him still in the court-house, still with his keys to the car. So I leaned against the bonnet of the car and watched the local wildlife.
I actually was deeply sorry I hadn’t gone into the court with Rez as I suspect it would have made a fantastic Talk of the Town. As it was, watching the people leave the court-house was entertaining enough. Firstly I think if I were to go to court I would wear a suit and possibly comb my hair. I don’t think I would be too surprised if I was found guilty after presenting to the court wearing a fluorescent pink track suit over an electric blue too-short-to-cover-my-entire-belly t-shirt.
Problem solving capacity is clearly lost on these people. A denim mini skirted ‘lady’ was confronted by some plastic stuck underneath her car and causing an ungodly noise as she drove out of the car park. Her solution was to get out of the car and scream at it. For five minutes. Amazingly it didn’t spontaneously remove itself.
One man came out and was clearly happy with his case. He came out and did an impressive moonwalk. Unfortunately he was about 600 pounds larger than Michael Jackson but full marks for effort. Very happy, he was.
Which was more than could be said for the next man who came out of the court-house. He came out the door, turned around at the court-house and screamed ” You f***ing c***s can go f*** yourself. You don’t get to f*** with me.” The doors of the court house didn’t appear to care. Presumably he had been told he needed to attend anger management classes. The man was built like a truck, as solid as I, except all muscles. Covered in tattoos. Shaved head. He then got into his car and very angrily pulled out of the car park at a rate of knots. Right into Reza’s car.
He pulls back and gets out and unleashes further expletives at the car and at me, his witness and the reason he can’t run off. I go to get info off him and ask him, sweet as pie, for his details and he threatens to “***ing hand me my head if I don’t back off.”
And this is who I am now. I was bored. His threats bored me. Seriously, afterwards, I was amazed at my reaction. Years of being screamed at and threatened in my day job had made me completely impassive to this idiot’s threats. Having said that, had I had a gun I’d have shot him and no jury in the world would have convicted me. Lacking a gun I went into de-escalation mode.
Unfortunately in terms of timing, prior to the accident I had initiated a chat with my policey friend Lisa, using messenger on my iPhone. As I am trying to de-escalate this putz, my phone is going off every ten seconds with Lisa asking where did I go and was I alright. Hard to calm people down when your pocket keeps loudly buzzing at you.
Fortunately I’m good at my job. Got the putz’s name and mobile. Didn’t have insurance naturally. Got the car details. Had him eating out of the palm of my hand by the time I was done with him.
But total putz. Total, total putz.
Ironically it was the complete opposite of there never being a policeman round when you need them. Policeman in my pocket, being bloody loud. And persistent. When I told Lisa how close she came to getting me killed, she laughed like a drain. Honestly. Oh the cynical South Australian Police Force.
What’s more, Lisa will laugh more when she reads this. You so owe me a drink.
Away For A Bit 
Argh! This posting hearkens to my current travails with the psycho witness and Mr. Bad Cop with a bend on rich doctors……It will not be a storm in a tea cup as you have suggested. I shall very soon be Cheech’s Bitch from Cell Block D…………….
I am in awe you didnt mention the storm bet.
Isn’t it amazing what people think is appropriate to show up for court wearing? You’re right, that’s good people-watchin’!
See. Told you I was a fan.
The mall awaits
Ah buddy you were my hero , not only saved Jeff you got details for that bastard out of court!! I know you risked your life to do that but well that’s you, Nigel the hero , he is everywhere!! You are getting very close to be a superman if you shed more pounds!!!!!! I’ll buy the suit for you, I promise!!!
Hey by the way I owe you and Lisa a drink anyway. Once again Thank you very much. Love you ( hey I know you were waiting for this ;))
Lisa, bless her, does not deserve a drink. Her contribution was to nearly get my head ripped off. I will have hers for her.
Nigel, Nigel, Nigel……..I didn’t mention the bet because your beloved readers were tired of such a trivial matter as your foreskin. The fact that you wagered a bet with your foreskin – and lost – would not interest anyone as you have already told everyone that you are now going to get a circumcision, German cut, to be specific.
I, with Gomco clamp and PlastiBell in hand, will leave you feeling fresh, renewed, closer to God, and rendering you infinitely less likely to develop penile cancer!
It is these sweet, kind, generous, humble things I do that patients adore……………….
wow. What a considerate guy.
You omitted so much from that wager and how I was trying to cheer you in your hour of need. Trust me, once the legal stuff subsides and the truth can come out, you will all realise what a saint I am.
Fresh, renewed, and closer to God now. In addition to never having depression again and reducing risk of nasty bugs. This is nothing but made of win. and now you told me it grows back if I don’t like it, well count me in. Why did I ever resist?
Seriously, saintdom is coming my way….
I just reread that.
There is nothing trivial about my foreskin, sir!
You, above all people, should know that.
for shame!
Evidently I am losing an easy ten kilos when its not there.
Trivial indeed! I scoff at you, sir.
THE INCIDENT FROM MY PERSPECTIVE.
So there I was wandering around our local department store, looking at furniture and other Dept things. I heard the familiar ding ding of my phone alerting me of a yahoo message. I look at my phone and see that the message is from my dear friend Nigel. I settle myself down on a lovely leather couch and reply to his “hey you there” message. I noticed the sales assistant hovering, I assured her that I was just testing and not buying. I wait for a minute or two and there is no reply from Nigel, so I send another message “yes, yes i’m here, sitting on lounge chair in furniture shop”. hmm still no reply. Not one to give up I send yet another message “yoo-hoo you out there, you ok”. A bit confused at his lack of response and thinking why would he send a “ya there” message if he didn’t want me to talk to me. So I get up off the leather couch and continue my browsing. I then get another message from Nigel asking ME to call HIM. So I did. This was when Nigel told me what had happened between him sending me the first message and me replying to him.
Sorry I nearly got you killed.
oxoxoxoxxoxo
p.s. there, ya happy with that reply.
p.s.s. Reza, I hope your car is ok, and that it is a nice easy journey with the insurance company.
Not bad but omitted to mention your laughing at my predicament.
It also omitted the rolls on the floor in hysterical laughing that you did when you realised you were almost responsible for my doom.
But otherwise, not bad. Thanks!
Ah yes I did laugh. But I was laughing with you, not AT you. I was laughing with love.
I do recall saying something along the lines of “far out, are you ok”? just after you told me what had happened. So I was caring just a little bit.
oxoxoxo
That could be the motto of the South Australian Police Force.
Caring, just a little bit.
😀
Tell your colleagues. I reckon they would run with that.