Sirens a-flashing, Inspector Pigshit’s unmarked squad car thundered towards the headquarters of Edinburgh City Council. It was still pissing it down outside with cold, wet rain.
“Looks like the car park’s full,” said Steve.
“Forget the car park,” replied Pigshit. “There’s plenty of space outside the main door. Take the fucker up the stairs.”
Steve hit the accelerator and drove the car up the large flight of stone steps before pulling a smooth handbrake turn and bringing the car to a stylish halt right outside the door.
Pigshit switched off the CD player. They were already on track 10 of Pelican West, the wonderfully catchy Love’s Got Me in Triangles. Pigshit thought about his favourite triangles: Dairylea cheese triangles. He got out of the car and glanced over at some smokers huddled outside the door of the building. They were looking at him funny.
“What are you fuckwits staring at?” he asked.
No-one said anything.
“You lot want to stop smoking. Didn’t you get the memo about how it’s bad for you? And that it makes you stink?”
“Not that easy,” mumbled one of the smokers, shivering in the damp autumn wind.
“Course it’s fucking easy,” said Pigshit. “You take your packet of fags and throw them in the fucking bin. Then you don’t buy any more, ever. Simple.”
“Ye cannae give up just like that,” said another.
“Away and shite,” replied Pigshit. “Use a bit of fucking willpower.”
“Do you want me to arrest these guys?” asked Steve. “We can get them banged up for smoking outwith a designated area.”
Pigshit looked down and saw that two of the group were indeed standing on the wrong side of a line painted on the paving stones indicating where people were allowed to smoke.
“No, it’s cool,” said Pigshit. “A warning will be sufficient this time.”
And with that, he kicked and punched the smokers until they were safely over the line. And then he went inside to continue the investigation.