Checkpoint Charlie

Riding home from the swimming pool last night, came across a strange sight in Belfast – plod stopping everything with a pulse on the Holywood road. Natch, I got stopped. I got asked what my name was, where I was going, where I’d just come from, if it was my bike I was riding – and how long I’d owned it! The copper then walked to the back of the bike and shone his torch at the numberplate. It was then I saw her – a pillion standing, looking glum, beside a sports bike with a nice small plate, while her boyfriend filled out some paperwork… guess my leaving my numberplate alone just saved me sixty nicker. Still – the sheer cynicism of it – a fund drive and nothing more. For those who’d say, ‘ah but it’s a safety check’, no – he didn’t look at my tyres or anything. Just looking for the easy pulls.