Fri night story

 
 
It was a Friday night just like any other, our night was young as my friend Paul and I had 
filled up on alcohol at his flat before embarking on a night out in our hometown, Edinburgh, 
no doubt fuelled by some Tony Hawk skateboarding action on the PlayStation and a carry 
out consisting of some stubby bottles of lager as they were the cheapest option 
interspersed by copious amounts of Oasis, Charlatans, Dodgy, Embrace and the likes. 
 
We were in our early twenties and had made the West End our preferred option on this 
particular occasion, it's the gateway to everything alcohol related which Edinburgh has to 
offer. Crossing the road at House of Fraser, passing the Rutland as we went, up the gentle 
slope that rises as you walk up Lothian Road in the shadow of the castle, there was a 
bounce of excitement in our steps as we walked, optimistically anticipating what the night 
may hold.  
 
I spotted a McDonald's drinks container on the pavement in front of us and thinking of 
myself as a keen footballer would regularly kick anything kickable in my way. I say anything 
but inanimate objects were my preferred target. I gave aim, planted my left foot and swung 
my right, connecting perfectly with the container when suddenly time slowed to something I 
can only describe akin to Bullet Time from the Matrix. My mind raced as my toe connected 
to the cup, what if it was full of liquid?! At that very moment it seemed that anyone within 
viewing distance had turned to watch the events unfolding before them, my friend Paul 
opened his mouth and turned to me to part some words of wisdom. 
 
As the cup exploded into the air it released its contents in spectacular fashion, 1p, 5p, 50p, 
2p, 10p, 20p of loose change spiralling through the air as I turned to understand what was 
happening, a man sat huddled in the doorway covered by a blanket as Paul's words hit me 
with a thud of realisation - 'Its a fucking tramps cup, what the fuck did you do that for?!'  
 
His words were echoed by the innocent passers by which recounted similar sentences 
asking why the fuck someone would be so heartless as to kick a tramps cup in the middle 
of the street. 
 
Ashamed, I skulked further up Lothian Road as my mate Paul pushed me away, distancing 
himself from me. 
 
'I didn't fucking know it was a tramp'  
 
'But why the fuck did you kick it anyway?' 
 
Non footballers will never understand  

 
We had barely walked 20 metres when a Police car pulled up beside us. 'Ah shit'. Paul 
distanced himself a little further.  
 
I'd never been in trouble with the Police which is quite remarkable as there was many an 
occasion when the Police could have intervened but didn't where the law had been broken 
through carelessness rather than recklessness. But alas it seemed like this latest occasion 
was the one that would be a reminder not to do shitty things in the future. 
 
The officers stepped out of their vehicle and blocked my way, I'm a helpful sort so I obliged 
by stopping and smiling. 'Mind having a word in the back of the car?' 'No, not at all' as I was 
ushered into the back, glancing at Paul as he cringed at the side of the road. I'm sure the 
tramp was enjoying the moment which karma had crafted. 
 
As I sat in the back I was trying to think of an excuse when I realised I didn't need one, it was 
a mistake, it was only a McDonald's Cup, hardly an arrestable offence when the officers 
joined me. The driver turned and asked me 'Why did you do It?'  
 
'It was an accident, I just thought it was a normal cup'  
 
'Stop messing us around, you know it was a cone'  
 
'Its not a cone, it's a cup' 
 
'Tell me why you did it'  
 
At this point I wasn't even sure they had seen me kick the cup. 'Why don't you tell me what I 
did?' 
 
'Dont be fucking stupid, you know what you did' 
 
'I didn't know it was a tramps cup'  
 
'Stop fucking us around lad, it's got nothing to do with a tramp, you did it' 
 
'Wait a minute, what did I do?'  
 
'Do you want us to take you back to where it happened?'  
 
'Oh wait a minute.... It happened right here...' and fuck that's when it hit me, they weren't 
talking about me doing my best Pele impression with the cup. 

 
'Put your seatbelt on' he commanded as the squad car began to pull off, I locked eyes with 
Paul as he mouthed in silence, I imagine he said 'What the Fuck?' As I frowned and 
shrugged my shoulders, fearful that the night had taken a turn for the worst.  
 
We sped off in the direction of Gorgie which was very bizarre as I rarely had the occasion to 
venture down Gorgie way unless I was dragged to a Hearts match but certainly it wasn't the 
place of choice for a night out.  
 
The Police car abruptly halted as the driver turned. 'Remember it now smart arse?'  
 
'Eh well, actually no...' 'Look officer, I don't know what you think I've done or who I am but I 
didn't do whatever it is that you think I've done, I just kicked a tramps cup!' 
 
'Shut up, I know you did It, I would recognise your face anywhere. You picked up that cone, 
looked me right in the eye and launched it at the car windscreen then ran off. Luckily we've 
just found you on Lothian Road'  
 
'Woah woah woah, wait a minute that wasn't me' 
 
An argument ensued and at some stage I must have kicked up so much of a fuss that he 
realised he had got the wrong guy in the car, he snapped and said 'I'm getting really fed up 
with you' I was demanding to be let out of the car and trying the door handle but it wouldn't 
open. 
 
The officer got out and opened the door, he reached inside and began to physically drag me 
out. All of a sudden I didn't want to be out of the car. I began to try to stay inside. After a 
struggle we ended up in the street and the realisation hit me. This wasn't fair, I shouldn't be 
treated like this. I searched for something I could use to recognise him to make a complaint, 
my eyes resting on his lapels, I read his number aloud and said I was making a complaint. 
Before I'd finished my sentence he comically covered up his shoulder lapels to obscure his 
number and I realised I was on my morale high horse.  
 
He jumped back in the car and drove off. 
 
I was stranded a fair distance away from my mate Paul, in the days before mobile phones 
there's not much to be done other than make your own plans. 
 
So I headed to the nearest Police station to make a complaint.  
 

Turns out Paul had the same idea, incensed that some coppers had interrupted his night 
out. We both agreed that making a complaint was the right thing to do.  
 
We stepped inside, walked up to the counter and I rang the bell, out came a Police Officer. 
'I'd like to make a complaint'  
 
'Oh really'  
 
'Yes'  
 
He feigned a trickle of excitement  
 
'About a Police Officer'  
 
'Oh I bet you do'  
 
Silence ensued, I expected at least some chain of events to begin unfolding but an 
awkwardness fell within the small waiting room. 
 
'There's nobody in'  
 
'What do you mean there's nobody in, you're here' 
 
'Yeah but the Sergeant is out and he's the one that deals with complaints'  
 
'Ok, let him know and I'll wait'  
 
'He'll be a while'  
 
"How do you know? You've not even spoken to him?' Clearly I was being fobbed off. 
 
With an air of arrogance, knowing I had been wronged my mindset was entrenched, I was 
going nowhere until I made a complaint, no matter how long it would take and it did take a 
while and the occasional questioning stance from myself demanding to know where the 
Sergeant was.  
 
Eventually my long wait paid off and the Sergeant returned, he was overwhelmingly bored 
when I told him I'd like to make a complaint about a Police Officer. He invited me into an 
interrogation room and sat down with me, asking me what happened.  
 

I told him in fine detail, minus the kicking the tramps cup part of course, just in case it got 
me in some sort of trouble. He probed my story, asked questions and became genuinely 
interested, he asked for the officers number and I gave it to him. A realisation flushed over 
his face like a waterfall, he exhaled and took some time to gather a response to me. 
 
He said to me, 'you know what Scott, I can see that you're not drunk and you’re taking the 
time to tell me something that I genuinely need to do something about. I'm really sorry that 
you've been treated this way' which disarmed me. 
 
At last a result, not the one I expected and it caught me off guard because I expected a bit 
of a fight to get my point across. 
 
At that, a knock on the door came, the aforementioned policeman which was earlier 
manning the front desk had interrupted 'excuse me Sarge, can I have a quick word?' and the 
Sarge dutifully made his excuses and left the room.  
 
I felt comfortable and satisfied that I was being taken seriously.  
 
After a brief pause the Sergeant returned to the room and our conversation moved into the 
negotiation stage. He apologised again and said that the complaint I was making about this 
particular policeman was the not the first complaint made against him, he told me he would 
deal with the matter personally. 
 
At this I felt like I was owed more, 'is that the best you can do?'  
 
'Well there's not a huge amount more I can do but look here Scott, you've not been treated 
well, I'm really sorry, I will guarantee you that I will do something about this'  
 
'Ok, but how do I know that I don't just walk out this room and nothing happens and he does 
it to someone else?'  
 
'You have my word, I promise that something will be done about this' 
 
And at that a bind of trust was reached, I felt like I had been taken seriously and I could be 
on my merry way. 
 
The Sergeant asked if there was anything else and I said no and stood up to leave. The 
Sergeant then squirmed a little and made moves to re-engage the conversation which I 
thought was coming to a close. He said apologetically 'There is just one more thing that we 
need to talk about'  
 

Ah shit, the bloody tramps cup I thought. Here it comes, flashbacks of that woeful incident 
played like a cinema screen through my mind.  
 
'Your friend Paul?' 
 
'Eh yes...' I said hesitantly wondering how he knew his name. Again, he had caught me off 
guard. 
 
'Well I'm really sorry about this but we've kind of had to lock him up'  
 
And bang, just like that he took away my feeling of satisfaction over having resolved my 
mistreatment by the Police. 
 
'What? What do you mean you've had to lock him up?' 
 
'Well the thing is, he got a little bit impatient waiting for you' 
 
'Well we have been in here a while'  
 
'I'm really sorry but there was a bit of an incident and we had to lock him up' 
 
'Wait a minute Sergeant, I come in here to make a complaint about the Police and you lock 
up my friend, that's not right....'  
 
'Look, don't worry about it, just give me a little bit of time and I'll have him released, you can 
wait outside in the waiting room and I'll sort it all out. 
 
It's at that point I realised the reason for the earlier interruption. 
 
I was escorted back to the waiting room, this night out had definitely not gone as planned. 
 
I'd scoured the entire room to check the state of the painting, the radiator, every cobweb, the 
lightbulb that needed to be changed, all the notices pinned to the noticeboards which I 
wondered were merely a waste of paper, each of the four walls, the old wooden benches I 
was sitting on, I scoured the background to see if I could ascertain any movement. The 
station seemed lifeless, the time approaching 2am. My eyes finally rested on the front desk 
and the bell which took pride of place on the glass fronted counter. A small polite notice 
signalled 'Please ring the bell and wait for attention'  
 
I pondered and thought, well that's what I need so that's what I'll do. I'd been waiting a while 
anyway, I was the innocent party who had been mistreated earlier on, I was definitely 

entitled to ring that bell. And so I did, I rang as though I was at a friends front door, at first 
expecting them to answer promptly. And so I waited and nothing happened, I listened for 
movement and heard none. I looked for movement and there was none. Strange I thought, I 
definitely heard the bell ring so it's working. Maybe they didn't hear. So I pressed for slightly 
longer, giving them the benefit of the doubt. Again nothing happened. I looked around and 
wondered if I should do something. I sat down and thought I would be patient, maybe they 
were busy.  
 
I fidgeted, changed posture several times on the uncomfortable benches and became 
annoyed.  
 
I stood up, marched to the counter and kept my finger on the bell for long enough to make 
someone believe there may be something wrong with it, what a listener would equate as a 
ring for urgent attention.  
 
I heard movement, I stopped ringing. The reaction I got was the desk jockey looking through 
the glass at me from a door situated further within the Police station, the look upon his face 
was one of annoyance. Our glances caught each other, mine portraying a stance of needing 
to talk to him, his emanating remnants of he couldn't give a shit what I wanted.  
 
Eventually he relented and slowly but purposefully dragged himself from whatever he was 
doing and made his way down the corridor towards me, opened the door and said 'yes'  
 
'My friend Paul, when's he getting out?'  
 
'He's just coming, won't be long' 
 
'Ok'  
 
He forced a smile, I returned a similarly forced smile and our contact was over. I returned to 
the uncomfortable bench, he returned to the corridors of the Police station. The waiting 
game ensued. 
 
I waited, bored. 
 
The external door opened, a young man came in and assessed the empty room, unaware of 
the etiquette. 
 
'Anyone here?' He asked 
 

'Yes, you just have to ring the bell' I informed him with an air of someone that knows the 
system well. 
 
'Which one?'  
 
'The one on the counter', I turned my glance to stare directly at it. 
 
I watched as he walked towards the counter and echoed my earlier bell ringing tactics. 
Firstly a quick press, listening for some movement, looking for a reaction. After a short time, 
I parted with my knowledge 'they don't really respond unless you hold it a bit longer' I said 
and he dutifully did. Still no reaction. A little more advice and encouragement from me 'Just 
hold it down for a while' and he did until he could hear movement and awaited some service 
if that's what you could call it.  
 
The young man enquired about a friend that had been arrested, after a quick check he left 
and I was again unentertained in the lifeless waiting room.  
 
I waited a while longer, thinking that patience was the best tactic. 
 
It turned out this tactic wasn't working, I wondered if they had forgotten about me. 
 
I repeated my earlier bell ringing steps, I was attended to eventually and I demanded to see 
the Sergeant again. The officer manning the desk told me not to ring the bell again. After 
some negotiation with the person at the desk he retreated to get the Sergeant. He popped 
his head around the door, apologised and said he was just organising the right paperwork 
and Paul would be out shortly.  
 
Placated, I returned once again to the cold benches and waited patiently. 
 
Time drifted by before eventually I snapped. I became angry that I couldn't go home and 
blamed it on the Police Officer who had picked me up earlier through no fault of my own. I 
marched up to the counter and kept my finger on the bell, I wouldn't be letting go until 
someone was stood in front of me explaining where Paul was. 
 
After a while I could see the aforementioned officer marching with similar rage to my own 
towards me and as he came closer I could see Paul sheepishly shuffling out of a corridor in 
the background, surrounded by officers. As the officer forced open the door to the counter I 
said 'its Ok, I can see he's coming out now'  
 
He angrily retreated without a word. 
 

I watched Paul intently as the final preparations were made for his release. He looked tired 
and dejected. 
 
Eventually the side door opened and Paul walked out. He greeted me with an 'alright?'  
 
'Yeah, you?'  
 
'Yeah, just knackered'  
 
‘Let's go home then’ one of us muttered 
 
We made the long walk home, weighed down by our earlier misfortune.  
 
It took a while to strike up the conversation to unravel the nights events. 
 
It started with Paul asking why I kicked the tramps cup.  
 
I defended myself the best I could.  
 
He asked why I was away so long making a complaint and I told him I was happy with how 
they dealt with it. 
 
I then asked about his own predicament.  
 
'What happened to you? How did you get locked up?'  
 
'Aw man' 'I was a bit of a fanny' he offered without further explanation. It was clear he was 
filled with remorse.  
 
'You know how they have a bell on the counter?'  
 
'Yeah I replied' as I recalled how many times I had pressed it and also educated someone 
else how to use it 
 
'Well it turns out that if you press it too many times the guy on the desk gets really pissed 
off!'  
 
'No fucking way, I pressed it loads of times waiting for you' 
 
'So did I!' Paul replied, adding 'Why were you taking so fucking long?' It was really annoying 
and boring. 

 
He continued 'At first I pressed it a few times as they didn't respond. But then I got really 
annoying with it, pressing it time and time again, sometimes lots of really short presses and 
then eventually really long presses until they gave me some attention'  
 
'The guy stormed out and told me not to press the bell again' 
 
'And that's when I wondered why. I wondered what would happen if I did press the bell 
again' 
 
'I waited until I felt he was settled and everything was quiet.' 
 
'And then I pressed the bell', waiting expectedly for whatever would happen  
 
At first no reaction. 
 
But after a short pause the side door flew open, Paul was caught unaware as two officers 
marched out with purpose and strode across to Paul, restraining him instantly and 
effortlessly dragging him back through the side door to a destination within the Police 
Station. 
 
They threw him into a cell. Paul found himself in a situation which clearly annoyed him. 
 
They asked for his shoe laces and belt.  
 
'Why do you want my fucking belt and laces?'  
 
'They are a suicide risk'  
 
'What, you think I'm gonna hang myself with my laces?' Paul angrily confronted, indignant 
with rage, fuelled by the earlier misfortunes and having missed out on a decent night out. 
 
'I don't think it's worth hanging myself because I pressed a bell and someone got angry'  
 
Paul removed his belt, was so annoyed at the demand for his laces that he instead said they 
could have both his shoes, was so annoyed that they had his shoes that he removed his 
socks before deciding they could take everything.  
 
'There you go, have the lot if you think I'm going to hang myself' as he removed his socks, 
jeans and Polo shirt. 
 

The officers dutily obliged, taking everything but Paul's Boxer Shorts before closing the door 
and locking him in. 
 
I feel that it was then that Paul realised that wasn't a wise move.  
 
'They shut the door and I was fucking freezing' he told me with a laugh  
 
It was clear Paul was over his ordeal and had learned from it. 
 
Anyone would think that's the end of the story but as you already know there was a long 
wait between Paul being locked up and being released.  
 
I told him I had to wait for ages and he finished his story. 
 
He said that after a while he realised he was just being stupid and apologised to the Police 
Officers for being annoying. Eventually there was an air of mutual understanding and the 
officers returned Paul's clothes and shoes, Paul apologised profusely and told the officers 
that he thinks they do a great job nad has loads of respect for them as they escorted him 
through the corridors. 
 
One officer stopped Paul and asked if he could ask a favour. 
 
'Yeah, no problem mate, anything, I'm really sorry for winding you all up'  
 
'We would just like to take a picture, it's for charity'  
 
'Yeah sure, no problem mate' Paul replied as he readied himself for a photo.  
 
They handed him a 'gold, spangly hat' and asked him to put it on which he dutily did before 
realising something was amiss. 
 
The photo was taken and Paul asked why the spangly hat.  
 
Paul was referred to a Noticeboard filled with pictures as the officer pointed, he was 
informed 'Its to raise money for charity. You're our wanker of the week'  
 
I'm not sure how Paul reacted, it was definitely somewhere between pride and remorse as 
he became reacquainted with myself.  
 
We laughed together as we made our way home, it was 4am and as it turned out it was a 
pretty good night out after all!.