18 Nov. 2007
Birdcage Walk on Sundays is closed to traffic until 5;30 p.m. which was exactly the time we were passing by the temporary police barrier just as it had been removed by a policeman.
Since the policeman was standing there, I came to a complete stop and as I did so, a taxi passed around him and made his way down birdcage walk without stopping.
I wound down my window with a smile, to ask the nice policeman if it was OK to proceed, but before I could say a word he bellowed impatiently, “Can’t you wait?”
Since I had actually stopped and was indeed waiting, I assumed that his question was both rhetorical and sarcastic.
Furthermore since he declined to answer my question properly and had actually removed the barrier that prevented me from making my way I told him, “I don’t have to wait”, and I made my way down Birdcage Walk following the taxi that had already done so.
Mrs. Monk became hysterical almost immediately since she knows I have problems with jacked-up over inflated authority figures; judges, policeman, immigration officers and teachers, spring to mind.
In less than a a quarter of mile we were blue-lighted, and pulled over by the very same policeman who was out of his car like the sweeny.
The taxi in front of us also pulled up but he was told he could go on his way, with a wave of a blue arm. It was the Monks he was after.
I was asked to step out of the car, and was then subjected to more sarcasm and potential police brutality, and all under the possible gaze of her majesty the Queen of England, since we were alongside Buckingham Palace.
“When did you last read the highway code?” he said.
“Are you in such a hurry to get home?” he said.
“Did I or did I not ask you to wait?” he said.
“Are you referring to your sarcastic remark?” I asked.
“I asked you to wait and you said you did not have to wait,” he said.
“You were being sarcastic,” I said.
He asked me a long and bewildering question getting more and more angry as he spoke, barely taking breath lacing it with yet more sarcasm demented with impatience at my line of questioning of him and apparently determined in essence to question my ability to drive, even though he had not seen me drive.
I patiently waited for him to complete his long convoluted rhetorical question and when he stopped asking it, I calmly asked him to repeat the question.
I have to hand it him, he repeated the question almost word perfect exactly as he asked it the first time, but this time he was louder, and more angry.
I told him he was being even more sarcastic, and I wanted my wife's opinion of his sarcasm.
Mrs. Monk was invited to get out of the car and join us on the footpath,.... in the rain. Yes, it was raining, but I wanted Mrs. Monk to witness his sarcasm.
For Mrs. Monk’s benefit the Policeman made an impassioned angry speech employing all the aforementioned sarcasm and finishing with a flourish describing all the thousands of policeman who had been killed by cars who failed to stop when blue lights were flashing.
Mrs. Monk intervened and told me and the Policeman that the Policeman was, “human,” and it was OK for him to be angry. I did not occur to me that he was not human and I made no reference to any other species. In fact I did not even think “pig” until she asserted that he was “human”.
Reluctantly I agreed that the policeman was human all right and buoyed up by Mrs. Monk’s vote of confidence, the pillar of humanity let it all go in a flourish, “I am angry, I am angry, I am angry”, he said three times angrily.
Thank you Mrs. Monk, for unleashing the drama queen in the wet constable.
It was like roadside therapy for anger-management, but I failed to understand how I could be held responsible for all those cop-killers that he was referring to.
“I did stop” I said “ remember? The taxi driver did not stop, but I did stop, you wanker”
Everything is true but I don’t think he heard “you wanker”
I just hope the Queen had her curtains drawn and her windows were closed.