Years back I was in Northampton and decided on a spur of the moment punt. I misread this parking sign which was clearly posted on a fence post in a dimly lit street.
When I got back to my car it was clamped.
So I ring this number on the paperwork under my wiper and some bloke says he will be there to release me in 15 minutes.
Bloody £80 charge.
So I’m a bit miffed but these things happen.
But when the bastard gets there he’s chatting to me like we are best pals when he suddenly stops and tells me he needs to make a call in the van.
What I don’t know at this time is this. He’s only ringing the police telling them in a drunk driver.
Bollocks.
Five minutes later two plods in a panda are there aren’t they and I’m being breathalised.
The clamp geezer is a twat because he thinks the drink he smells on my breath is alcohol.
It was fucking cough medicine.
I still get to blow in the tube though.
So I’m there now with these two coppers and this clamper idiot. The two uniforms start telling the clamper to get things right next time and I’m asking them how can I make a complaint.
“Fuck me” I said. “If I rang to say someone was stabbing me to death it would take longer for you two to get here. But a bloody twat rings you cos he thinks I’m drunk and your here in a heartbeat”
That was my first and last punt in shitting Northampton.
Wasn’t raining though
