Something was happing the air was a buzz,
Who’s having a party it can’t be the fuzz,
But next to the theatre a marque is erect,
And everyone’s talking a strange dialect,
Into their walkie talkies this sea of blue command,
Caps on their heads, respect on demand.
As I walk by, my ventolin stuffed down the side of my knickers,
A thought occurs that they may send in the sniffers,
‘Cos the bulge of my vent looks just like a gun,
Could I be mistaken for a villain on the run?
Once the thought has entered my brain,
It refuses to leave it, driving me insane,
My face is a picture of guilt mirrored in bright red,
As I slink past the pigs I’m on the ready to spread.
Phew, I can relax I am now over the road,
I am innocent again, my pulse has slowed,
I salute these officers, these holders of the peace,
As guilty or innocent no one starts with the police.