every time I've ever been in a Police station, for Joey Polanski (because he asked)

Firstly: When I was 18 I was at a wild party which degenerated into a bit of a brawl. A manboy in front of me ducked a punch, which connected with my face. Down I went! At the Police Station they asked me to identify a 'suspect'. Other than skin colour, the man they showed me looked nothing like my assailant. It was in fact a Police Officer. Nonetheless, Punch-o the Puncher got three months in prison.

Second-hand: As a young adventurer I landed in London bouncing with excitement. On my second day there, I asked a Bobby with a tit on his head for directions. I knew where I was & where I was going, but I thought it was traditional to ask a policeman for directions. (I accosted him on the street, so this is not stricly a going-to-the-station event.)

Thirdmost: I had a show at the Edinburgh Festival. One of the cast lost his keys, so we visited the P'lice Station on the Royal Mile to make enquiries. Whilst there, I couldn't resist asking the dour-faced Desk Sergeant if Inspector Rebus was in. His face broke into a broad smile. He told me that they love the Rebus books in the Edinburgh Constabulary, and he himself had started his career at Rebus's home station.

Fourthlike: I spent a weekend in Goulburn at the Police Academy pretending to be a Very Important Person for a Close Personal Protection course. The chaps on the course had been training all week. They had to practice protecting three of us from all sorts of dangers, including some pretty nifty driving when we were 'attacked' by Bad Men on dirt bikes firing blanks at us. And these guys were strong. I'm 1.8 metres tall (about 6 foot) and I was picked up & thrown about as easily as a stick. The best part was when we left the grounds of the Academy. We took a stroll around Goulburn Mall, all of us wearing dark glasses, 'protected' by 7 be-suited, dark-glasses-wearing, curly-wire in the ear guys. We caused a sensation as the citizen of Goulburn tried to figure out who these famous people might be.

This is also the reason why I can confidently tell you that my weapon of choice is a 9mm Glock semi-automatic pistol. As part of our payment, we got an hour on the firing range. I fired a revolver, a pump action shottie and an Uzi, as well as the pistol.

Fiveness: Working at a bookshop in The Rocks area of Sydney, I was held up by a screwdriver-wielding thief at 11.30 at night. (Not nearly as much fun as a smoothly nude young man.) He ran away with the money. I went to the Rocks Police Station that night. Later that week, I went to Police Headquarters to look at photos. Though I couldn't identify the rascally robber, one of his mates turned him in & he was convicted for eighteen robberies, my shop's among them.

Six-of-the-best: Last year just before Christmas, a stupid mugger tried to take my camera. He was stupid because a) he was a scum-sucking junkie shithead, b) he didn't know enough to wear soft shoes, so I had notice of his rearward approach by the stamp of his feet on the pavement, and c) my camera strap was crosswise on my body. He grabbed the strap and pulled, so I couldn't have given it to him even if I had wanted to.

A very kind pair of constables came to my apartment, then drove me down to the Station to take my statement. The girl constable took a call on her mobile, which she rang off quickly. Recognising the strangled tone, I asked her if it was her mother. She told me she can't get her mother not to call her at work. Once she was on a raid & her mother called & was cross with her because she couldn't talk right then. Later, the young boy constable drove me back home, causing a stir as I alighted outside my building.

Finally: Coincidentally, on the morning of my last post, I went to the Station to have a Statutory Declaration witnessed. Twelve-year-old Constable Handley did the honours.