Remember back in May I had my number plates stolen off my car? Well this morning as I was leaving for work a detective called me to arrange for a time for me to give a statement about it. Yes that’s right, we are in August — plates stolen in May, so that’s roughly 1, 2, 3 months since the incident.
Okay, so the police have better things to do with their time, I understand that. I just don’t exactly understand what else I could possibly tell them. I parked my car here. I came back to car after work and found plates gone. Um — gone, yeah, you know as in no longer there. Yep, both of them. Front and back. Stolen — ’cause I don’t remember putting them in my pocket, or setting them down anywhere… I mean I checked behind the couch, and like in between the cushions, in jacket pockets, but they were really gone man.
Okay, now I’m being stupid.
On a similar car-like tangent, my condolences to Simone’s car, who after a couple of weeks undergoing repairs from an unfortunate accident, has been involved in another accident. From what I hear the owner of Simone’s car is okay, and still has full control of her swearing faculties. Yes Simone, it is a sign for both of us, and yes, the rest of the world can fuck off now. * Fuck-tards!
* Word thieved from Dave.
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