Got Arrested - Revel In My Suffering

[Captain Planet]

lol @ having confidence in the police's morals and admitting you had something on u

police morals is an oxymoron

moron

[SLEAZE BALL]

did you think they were gonna llow you cos you aint black?

stupid stupid lad

[Esquilax]

I thought they wouldn't think it necessary to take it that far for the tiny quantity I had, the only people who seemed to think it was a big deal were the guys arresting me, everyone at the stations was like wtf is going on why did they bring you in

@Marv-o I wasn't shocked that I got arrested lol I was shocked that they kept me under arrest for so long for such a minor offense

So because there's a criminal industry around selling drugs I should be held personally accountable for it for having half a pill in my pocket? Stop clutching at straws bro

I see you're still content being an absolute bastard so I'll leave you to it, don't deal with your ilk any more, moved on

[Captain Planet]

Woooooah he said he doesnt deal with your kind nemore

Cut the fags out of your circle yeah?

[MARVELL]

the fact that you bought drugs means you're part of that industry

supply...and demand

they held u in the cell cos they love paperwork and overtime

once ur in there ur in there...theres no hierarchy of release based on the offence.

[Guest PROFIT MARGINS]

I liked it

Just got back from court myself I was caught earlier in the month with 4 1/2oz of cannabis managed to convince the idiots it was all for me even though it was in 3 separate bags

Got let off with a £85 fine can't complain

I think the moral of you're story is not to bow to peer pressure...u knew it was bait to smoke round there you only have yourself to blame

What happend to you're mate?

[imhim]

""Though I initially opposed the idea, being called a ‘pussyole’ in front of two girls was enough to convince me to go along with it.""

[imhim]

"" I defiantly kept thinking that I would have something when I got out, a f*ck*ng big burger with all sorts of fried goods and sauces.""

f*ck*ng DEM ONESSZZ

V

D

BFD

B

BFD

BF

D

[O.Man]

good read! Charlie brooker-esqueeeeelaxisss snorlax

[imhim]

""I got my things and listened as a couple of other policemen brought in another soul who was ‘loitering with intent’. Intent to do what, stand more still? Shimmy slightly to the left?""

V

D

V

VCX

BVCXBV

CX

DIS GUYYYY

[Captain Planet]

Esq is a funny guy dont u know i miss his regular wit

[Guest PROFIT MARGINS]

Truss the bit on graffiti had me cracking up I always think that and the bit about the black man na white man made me lol

So they can take you're glasses ain't that taking the piss a bit?

You must have said you have suicidal tendencies if they took you're laces

[Guest chap44uns]

Esq is a funny guy dont u know i miss his regular wit

cant lie hes sick wid it

[KayGee]

What did your mum say?

[Esquilax]

She still thinks it was draw so I'm alright for now, my folks are fine with weed but get funny about class A's

Vice are going to post it soon so... Cat might be out of the bag

[Frank.]

What did your mum say?

Ouch.

[Benicio del Toney]

did you think they were gonna llow you cos you aint black?

stupid stupid lad

Truss me, an eye opener for certain guys who thought blacks just complain about police for nothing.

[Thizz]

WHY ARE YOU NOT PURCHASING OFF ME??

[Mr. Martinez]

How did they leave it the end btw?

You having to go back to receive your formal caution for possession of class A drugs?

[RYDER.]

Re up gang esq

It's garn

[Esquilax]

I've taken it down til Vice post it today/ tomorrow

I'll post it here anyway

It’s difficult to have a fair and balanced view of the Metropolitan Police when their staff members fluctuate so heavily away from both balance and fairness. It is a job, at times, dictated not by logic, reason, or, indeed, as the tagline would have you believe, ‘Working together for a safer London’, but by following pointless rules that no one involved wants to adhere to, but must out of a robotic sense of duty.

It was 00:45AM on Saturday 25th February, and I was under arrest.

A friend of mine had decided that he wanted to smoke a joint just around the corner from Great Eastern Street in Shoreditch. Though I initially opposed the idea, being called a ‘pussyole’ in front of two girls was enough to convince me to go along with it.

Almost as soon as the flame hit the Rizla around seven plain clothes Police officers bounded round the corner (I would later learn that these officers are called ‘Specials’ and are renowned in the force for being total d*ckheads). They apprehended my friend and told me to wait by an adjacent wall.

They began to search me, at which point I thought it apt to mention that I had half an Ecstasy pill in my right pocket. I believed that if I was honest about it, and considering the minute quantity there, that I would be cautioned like my friend and let go.

Not tonight.

I was placed under arrest. A senior officer, a tall, fat, bald, patronising, power-drunk arsehole asked the men either side of me to handcuff me.

“He’s been pretty compliant Sir, calm, no trouble.”

“Nah, handcuff him.”

Hands behind back. Right palm facing up. Left palm facing down. The shiny steel awkwardly grating against my wrists as I tried to jostle into a position that didn’t feel like a sh*t wrestling move was being done on me by weird teenager.

It was another fifteen minutes before a van arrived to take me to a North London police station. I was ushered into the back, cuffs still on, and started my journey into the heart of true bumbling madness.

When I arrived at the station all of my possessions were confiscated. My coat, which had to be removed because of the potentially-suicidal tassels, along with all my other sh*t was placed in evidence containers. I looked down at the evidence bag containing my sad half-pill wrapped in tissue paper. It looked like a snotty rag I’d forgotten to throw away from a cold a year ago.

I was taken into a camera-less cell where I was strip searched. I was made to remove all clothing, to squat and to lift up my ball sack. This is to ensure that I hadn’t hidden any more half pills up my arse or behind my bollocks (though, knowing me, I’d have just f*ck*ng told them about it anyway, right?)

After an opiate test and a thorough finger printing, I was placed in a holding cell. By now it was about 03:15AM. “Try and get some sleep,” I was told, “we should get you processed in the morning.” So I did just that, I went to sleep, kind of safe in the knowledge that, because of my minor offense, it wouldn’t be taking much longer.

Not today.

After being awake in my cell for a few hours observing the graffiti (seriously, how are they doing that? Are they using their nails to carve tags into the window frames? Why?), I was told that, to speed up my processing, I was being transferred to an East London police station, because that’s where I originally got nabbed.

Cuffs back on. Hand around my arm. Back to the van.

The officer accompanying me looked at my Escobarian drug horde wrapped in pure cut Andrex.

“They brought you in for this? f*ck’s sake.”

I was placed in the kind of back seat of the van this time, the cell was being occupied by a burly Turkish gentleman who had taken a buttload of prescription meds. Driving along, I looked out at all the people staring at me and felt kind of bad ass. Yeah, that’s right, I’m a dangerous mother f*cker in the back of a pig-mobile. They don’t know what I’m capable of, that’s why they’ve locked my menacing hands up. I could kill everyone in this van for all you know. Then I thought I actually just want to sit on my bed and cry into my cashmere jumper, and all feelings of hardmannery were quickly assuaged.

After arriving I was placed in a sort of waiting-cage outside with a few attending officers, the Turkish man, who was swaying and spitting and farting, eyes lolling back into his melting brain, and a skinny, rat-faced white gentlemen who had blood all over his joggers and a bandage on his right knuckle. We were out there for almost an hour while the officers inside were ‘changing over’. Once inside, I was met by the sight of the Sergeants playfully giving each other mini Flakes and arguing about how much work they all had to do. The officer who was looking after me looked on in almost complete disdain. “Thirteen hours pursuing justice.” he said of my now-thirteen-hour-long detention.

I had, by this point, lost all interest in anything. I went up to the counter, again, to answer, again, whether I could read or have ever tried to top myself. My glasses and shoelaces were then confiscated and I was placed back into a cell. I started to wonder how long it would actually take for them to interview me and let me go, and began panicking about whether I’d even be let out on the same day.

I had half an E in my pocket.

I rang the buzzer, I said “Excuse me, do you know what’s going on? I don’t know what time it is or anything, I’ve been here for ages.”

“Let me go and find out for you.” the officer said as the small rectangular contact point slammed shut, echoing through the high, empty room. I looked at some more etched graffiti, my favourite being ‘BLACK MAN NA WHITE MAN’, as it was both factual and poetic.

Another hour passed. I pressed the buzzer again.

“What’s going on?”

“Look, I’m busy doing something alright? If anything comes up I’ll let you know. The officer who’ll be doing your interview is charging someone at the moment, and hopefully he’ll be with you before 10:00PM”

10:00PM? Are they f*ck*ng joking me? I had half an E in my pocket, wrapped in tissue, and I might be interviewed, not released, by 10:00PM? I sat down and pulled my shirt over my face, letting a single frustrated tear roll down my face as I frowned hard in bemusement and desperation. I waited longer. I heard nothing. I was offered Lasange. I refused it. I defiantly kept thinking that I would have something when I got out, a f*ck*ng big burger with all sorts of fried goods and sauces. More hours passed and I began to think about what I’d done, and do you know what? The whole situation made me want to take more drugs than ever. It made me want to get so garotted with pills and charlie and anything else anyone would give me that I would barely be able to keep my saliva out of my stupid, pulsating eyeballs.

I slept again.

The door opened, and the officer who was conducting my interview collected me. The interview lasted about five minutes in all, and was totally worth the twenty hour wait. He told me it shouldn’t take more than forty-five minutes to get me out of the station.

It took another hour.

He returned and apologised. I could not even speak at this point, and communicated in hand gestures, which translated to ‘don’t worry about it, just give me my sh*t and get me the f*ck out of this hell hole’.

I got my things and listened as a couple of other policemen brought in another soul who was ‘loitering with intent’. Intent to do what, stand more still? Shimmy slightly to the left?

I put my laces back in. It was now 09:45PM.

I erupted through the door and, like Andy Dufresne, emerged from the sh*t stained grot pipe that is the Met’s processing system. Almost every officer involved in the whole mess was disappointed in it, disenfranchised I’d imagine by the profession they joined with the best intentions, but ended up making them handcuff, detain, strip, solitarily confine and generally f*ck with a teenager who had half a pill in his pocket.

[Esquilax]

Also, I didn't purchase it, it was given to me

"But someone bought it"

Yeah no sh*t, people buy stuff

'Human Race in Trouble as People Exchange Money for Items and Services'

If I want to put a chemical inside my body to create a sense of euphoria I should be allowed to do that, no one should be able to tell me I can't, in an ideal world

[Da Luv Doc]

LOL @ my negs. I am someone who doesn't do drugs, yet I get negged for calling him a d*ck for being a druggy?

SMH

[Esquilax]

Lol 'druggy'

Wtf

Has he been like this since I've been away?

[Skola]

lol good read

but

strip search?!?!?

fak

one or more of those cops REALLY didnt like you