T’other day, I was on my way to work and waiting at a crossing trying my best to ignore the cold. Presently, as his wont, the green man appeared to signal me onwards. However, I paused before stepping out onto the road as I heard an approaching siren, and soon enough I saw a police motorbike rapidly round the corner and start approaching me. And approaching me. And approaching me.
Nervously, I took a further step back on the pavement, but still he came, onwards, closer, until he slowed and mounted the kerb in front of me. I racked my brains, thinking of any arrestable offences I’d recently committed.
"Don’t cross," he ordered me.
I made a half gesture at the green man.
"Wait!" he hissed.
Moments later another two motorbikes sped past, continuing one hundred metres up the road or so before they too stopped. This was all then followed by a speeding Bentley flanked by a further two bikes zipping round the corner and up the street. Through the window I caught the distinctive horse-like features of a royal.
Princess Anne cast her eye over me before turning to gob off to the lady sat next to her.
"There’s Princess Anne," I thought, "Going through a red light."
And with that she was gone. The policeman kicked his bike forward, and turned to me.
"Now you can cross."
The green man disappeared. Traffic eagerly leapt forward.
I pursed my lips, and pressed the crossing button again.
"Bloody monarchy," I muttered.
5 weeks ago