And after, I got accosted by the counter terrorist unit of the BTP. No shit, I left stevie and josh at the ticket barrier in King's Cross this morning and strode forward, ready to catch my train home. What followed is, I swear to God, true to the letter.
I walked through the ticket barrier, and a man in a high visibility jacket over a bulletproof vest asked me to come over. The jacket says "Counter Terrorism Active Super Mecha Death Man" or something. It had the words counter terrorism on it, and that's all I noticed. Now having complied with the request to join this man in the corner, he whips out his palm pilot computer thing along with the special screen pen, and tells me he's going to ask me a few questions.
shit.
First of all we go through the normal stuff, like name, age, home address, nationality, birthplace, phone number, favourite food etc. etc. He then asks where I'm going.
"Home."
"And where is that?"
"Camelot. It's on the line to cambridge."
"And why are you in London?"
"Visiting friends. I've been here the past three days."
*man furiously taps his screen with the pen in different places as if he's angry with it.*
"And do the police have records of you?"
"err..."
I really wasn't sure how honest to be. While it was technically true the armed police had once accosted me on suspicion of having a pump action shotgun, I wasn't arrested. On the other hand, they DID take my details down. The Police man
sensed my indecision.
"Have you ever been arrested?"
"No! They only confiscated the gun and gave me a warning."
"... What gun?"
FUCK. FUCK FUCK.
A hasty explanation of why the armed police had my details later, the questioning resumed.
"And could you just open the bag please?"
*open bag. Inside the main pockets are a chess set, and school work*
"This is everything."
"Why do you have a chess set?"
"A friend was teaching me how to play."
"could you open up the chess set please?"
*I go to open up chess set. Pieces spill everywhere. Questioning resumes after a minute of picking them up*
"What's this?"
"It's a chemistry textbook."
*policeman continues to things out and check them.*
"Why do you have printouts on nuclear fission and a chemistry textbook?"
"It's for my work."
"WHAT WORK?"
Again, there was another awkward silence and me hurriedly explaining my chemistry coursework for school was on nuclear fission and fusion.
"Is there anything in your bag your shouldn't have?"
*thinks about USB stick, lighter, magnets, yu-gi-oh cards and holepunch in various pockets.*
"...nope."
"Then stay here while I take a description of you."
The funniest part came when at the end of questioning, the man spend ten minutes getting increasingly frustrated with his tiny computer for no apparent reason, until I noticed that something was issuing forth from beneath his jacket. As he went to tear out the piece of paper that had spontaneously appeared, I realised what it was.
HE HAD A FUCKING PRINTER STRAPPED TO HIS WAIST.
don't believe me about any of this?