January 20, 2009
As We Help The Police Solve Crime.
Last night at about 3am I was awoken from my drunken slumber, by the sound of heavy banging coming from outside The HQ. Climbing off The Girlfriend, I quickly put on some decent underwear, grabbed my samurai sword, and went to investigate.
Suspecting a break in, I immediately checked my liquor cabinet, for any signs of forced entry, and breathed a huge sigh of relief when I realised the scratch marks on the oak surface was from that time I desperately clawed away at it, when The Girlfriend took away my drinking privileges that one Christmas back when I still had long blonde hair.
Anyhoo, satisfied that no one was trying to break into The HQ, and in fairly good spirits after remembering how great I looked in highlights, I realised that someone must be trying to break into the neighbours place upstairs instead, and was about to jump back into bed when the noise picked up again, this time quicker and louder.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!” it went, sounding as if someone was busy trying to kick a door down. This annoyed me, as I began to accept that I wouldn’t be able to sleep that night unless this was resolved. I grabbed my “cellular phone”, a nifty little gadget which is cordless, has a long battery life, and means I can carry it around with me wherever I go (I suggest you all get one of these, I suspect it’s going to be the next Big Thing) and dialed the South African version of 911, namely 10111, which is the number you use when you need the Flying Squad.
I spoke to the operator, explained that there seemed to be a break in going down near The HQ, and ended the call. Barely a minute later (I shit you not, that’s how quick it was) two police vans came screeching up, and I was soon greeted by about seven guys in bullet-proof vests and cap-busting guns, wanting to know where the shit was going down.
We headed upstairs to where the commotion had happened barely minutes earlier. The guy in front, who kind of looked like a slightly older-version of Jack Bauer, told me to hold back with another guy near the stairs, whilst everyone else crept up to the door. The scene was tense, you could hear a pin drop, and I could feel the beads of sweat running down my thigh, which unsettled me, as I was afraid it may have looked as if I was pissing myself.
As it turns out though, the banging we heard was just the drunken foreign guy who lives upstairs. Completely pissed, he had lost his keys and decided to kick his front door down, using his feet and considerably large head in order to carry this out.
They let him off with a stern warning as well as an instruction to clean himself up, after literally shitting himself at the sight of 6 guys with guns knocking at his door.
So to the South African Police guys, awesome stuff, well done on such a quick response time. If this were a movie review, I’d give you a Steve-O rating of five.
Seriously, good effort there lads, give yourselves a pat on the back.
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