Silly Girl

I’m sure you are normally a very pleasant person.

I’m sure you don’t normally act in this manner.

I know you’re past the stage of calling out to me to show you my truncheon.

I can see you haven’t yet reached the collapsed in a dishevelled, vomit stained heap phase.

No, you’re at that dangerous state of inebriation where all your listening and reasoning skills have been suitably dulled.

I understand you didn’t plan this end to your night, with your loved one busy protecting your honour in Small Corner custom while you shriek at him. I apologise for the quaint old Police tradition of having to arrest him for doing this. I know he ‘didn’t do nuffink’, but I don’t really have the time to explain the finer points of English grammar to you right now.

Trying to pull me off him isn’t really going to work is it? Neither is screaming all those rude words at me. Now you know why we have short hair. There was no call for scratching my neck; you’ll be needing a visit to your nail technician now and I’ll have some explaining to do to Mrs Brian.

What I now need to get across is that I don’t want to arrest you. I really don’t. You aren’t making it easy for me though, are you? I need you to back off, but you’re too busy insulting me to hear. If you’d been a bloke we wouldn’t be having this problem. A simple technique would have you either backing away or falling on your arse. Unfortunately, you’re built differently and I really don’t need the certain complaint.

Grabbing your wrists was the only thing I could do. Why did you then have to try and bite me and knee me in the groin? Mrs Brian is very understanding, but you nearly got me a month in the spare room. That’s why I arrested you.

By the way, “Yes I ******* can”, just in case that wasn’t clear from what happened next. I know I didn’t handcuff you, that’s because they don’t come in pissed bint size. Trust me, I didn’t want to stand there bobbing and weaving waiting for the van.

I’m not sure if you greet every new person you meet in the same fashion, but, I don’t think the Custody Sergeant was very smitten with you. I’m sure he’d feel differently if he got to know you better. Besides, you weren’t really looking your best were you? I’m just glad that your mother couldn’t see you. Or hear you. I’m certain she would have grounded you.

It was clear you still hadn’t regained your listening abilities and there was no further point trying to speak to you. Just one last formality before you were shown to your bed for the night. You didn’t get any better at first impressions did you? They were wearing them because they didn’t really want to have to touch you and I happen to know both of their boyfriends. So no, they’re not.

How did I know you were going to be claustrophobic? Strange you didn’t mention it during your monologue in the back of the van. I’ll make a note of it.

No, you can’t have a fag.

No, not even now that you’re crying.

Night, night.