THE FUGITIVE...

It seems I may have to sign off soon and lay low for a while.. for it seems that I have a reward on my head for crimes against the DVLA and this town just ain't big enough for the both of us. The problem is that Bonnie Parker here has had a blonde moment and has failed to renew the MoT which means I've been pootling around in my eight year old car which smells of wet dogs without a valid MoT certificate for over three weeks. For 3 days I've been trying to get hold of the mechanic who normally sorts out the MoT and servicing and finally managed to get the car booked in for tomorrow. But today, rather than get a taxi (too tight) or a bus (heaven forbid), I drove my car the couple of miles to my parents house and nearly had heart failure when I had to pass a police car with the scariest policeman sitting in it. I tried to look carefree and nonchalant, but this only ever makes me look more guilty. It's true, I never get away with anything due to my face displaying the guilt of a million sinners. Airport 'nothing to declare' lanes are the worst. For years, I trundled through, whistling and trying to look innocent whilst the duty free booze and 76 cartons of cigarettes were rattling away in my suitcase, only to get stopped every time by the Customs Officer stretching their latex gloves and with an evil glint in their eyes. My friends and family would sail through whilst I was stopped every time. Of course these days, with a grudging acceptance of my guilty face and ridiculous willingness to sing like a canary over every act of misdemeanour ever committed since birth, I just don't bother bringing anything back. With the onset of a responsible job, I have never ever strayed from the straight and narrow and can normally be relied upon to pay things on time and to ensure cars etc are legally insured, taxed and MoT'd. That was until now. I'm expecting my door to be hammered tonight by the policeman who I just know took my car registration number and thought to himself 'I'll have that guilty looking bird later'. I've been watching Bad Girls on Sky CBS Drama for tips on getting through a prison sentence at an all women's prison. The phrase 'fresh meat' fills me with horror. 'Ok ossifer, I'll come quietly'....