Last night at Sutton station I was nearly arrested twice. The first time I was entering the vicinity with a colleague, Janie, only to find twenty PCs with dogs awaiting me on the platform. Janie was telling a story about how her brother once got stopped, when a dog became enamoured with my bag. So, I was taken to the side, told to take off all my clothes (apparently it was a joke) and searched.
Much to my relief I'd left my crystal meth at home and was released from their clasps. Had they read my Festival Business feature or was it just another case of bad karma? Janie was waiting with a smirk on her face so I stumbled over, tried not to look too guilty then felt a tap on my shoulder as a sinister looking railway inspector showed me his badge. "Can I have a word with you please."
By now my day from hell couldn't get much worse. Apparently my popularity with the police made them suspect I had a fraudulent ticket. It didn't help that my travelcard no longer works on the barriers and so I've been showing it to the guards each time.
Anyway, on my train journey to Caterer this morning I saw a lot of lone trainers, a pair of ladies undies and a dead cat. This morning I received my latest nickname 'Felon' after Janie told everyone my story. I am now the talk of the office, for all the wrong reasons.