Wednesday, 13 April 2011

Early Morning Criminal

Mornings are a questionable time of day for me at the best of times. Whilst it's true that I have no problem in getting up when required, my brain often takes a couple of hours and a good dose of Everybody Loves Raymond before it really begins to function. This morning started out differently, however. After two whole days without any sleep my body was at war with itself. Everything hurt, my eyes didn't work and my chest felt like someone was sat on it. This is not the best way to start a Wednesday. Despite such difficulties I made my way downstairs, had some breakfast and sat at my computer for an hour or so before it was time to leave.

This is where I made my mistake.

For the next 60 minutes I sat and watched the BBC crime drama, Waking the Dead. This in itself was not the mistake. It's a good programme, which is odd for the BBC these days, and I like how Trevor Eve acts like a total knob in it yet still I want him to win at the end. Wayne Rooney acts like a total knob all the time yet I never want him to win. Good acting, Trevor.
The mistake was choosing to watch such a programme at 7:30 am.
As the end credits rolled I picked up my bag and headed out to uni. Nothing weird in that. It was after I got outside that the problems began. It seems that Waking the Dead had got into my head. Otherwise normal incidents were positioning themselves in my brain as potential leads in a murder case. Anyone who looked at me immediately seemed shifty. I may have even accused (quietly) an old lady of being a serial killer because she gave off that sort of vibe.

It reminded me of watching such classics as Murder She Wrote and Diagnosis Murder with my mum when I was off school after 6th form. Every day we'd sit and we'd watch (I wasn't a social 17 year old,) and after about 5 minutes me and my mum would look to each other and say, with great confidence, "They did it." My mum was always right. Always. I imagine she'd make an excellent detective. Just roll in the suspects and she'll pick out who dunnit every time.

Anyway, back in the present, the real scares happened when I walked past a police car. From thinking that everyone else was guilty I suddenly had an overpowering feeling that it was I who had done the crime, whatever that crime may have been. I ducked down behind the cover of my jacket collar to avoid detection, an act which likely provoked an opposite sort of reaction from the cop behind the wheel.
It didn't help my cause that due to the afore mentioned lack of kip my walk was some what labored, I hadn't shaved in a while and I was wearing a high collared denim jacket. I looked like a criminal. The afore mentioned chest pain had given me something of a sore throat, meaning I've been speaking like Rod Stewart for the past couple of weeks. I sounded like a criminal. Had the copper I hid from got out of his car he would surely have been convinced of my guilt and I'd of had to explain the whole sordid story to him as I have to you.

"Well mate, what it is right, is I watched Waking the Dead this morning. This in itself was not a mistake...."
He'd definitely have arrested me.
I've learnt my lesson.