'Ello 'ello 'ello...

I just had a phone call that made my blood run cold. A police officer is "investigating the reckless discharge of a firearm"... I have a connection with the place involved, and apparently I (roughly) fit the description.

As it happens I was 600 miles away at the time, and can prove it, but they still want to send a couple of coppers round to talk to me about it. No doubt they'll insist on trawling through the gun cabinet "while we're here".

Knowing one or two of the characters who live round there, I wouldn't be surprised if the complaint is a bit of mischief cooked up by an anti-shooting newcomer.

So knowing all that, why is it that talking to a copper makes me feel like I'm back at school, and have just been caught having a sneaky fag behind the bike-sheds? It certainly put the wind up my wife, who was alarmed to be told that the police were trying to trace me in connection with a firearms incident. I expect there'll be some curtain-twitching in the street when the cops roll up at my front door too.

I just hope that, when the police get complaints like this, they remember that some folks just don't like shooting, and enjoy stirring up trouble for shooters.