One of the police found a garden chair that I could stand on and they eyed me suspiciously as I tried to slide through the window.

The fleece that I was wearing was padding me out too much so I took it off.

I tried again, and this time it was my pen, pen-torch and scissors in my shirt pocket that got in the way. I moved them into my trouser pocket.

One of the police asked if it would help if I was buttered up.

I pretended not to listen to him.

Or the giggles of my crewmate.

Autor: Tom Reynolds