One minute I’m in the queue for Coppers, and the next I’m in the back of a squad car on the way to the cop shop.I was hoping to meet a nice policeman…but not like this. I planned on having a few drinks, a bit of a bop with the girls, maybe get a lift home, a goodnight kiss and hopefully a date for the weekend; but this was ridiculous. They wouldn’t even say why I was arrested. They just kept talking about my clothes. ‘What are you, the fashion police?’ I asked the arresting officer. She just looked me up and down and smirked. The bleeding cheek of her; I could have commented on her granny tights and mens shoes but I’ve more respect for people than that. I never usually wear pink but my Ma is always saying pink is my colour, and the girl in the shop said that leopard print never goes out of fashion. The boots though…what was I thinking of? I wanted to look taller, sexier, and more elegant but Holy Mother; I could barely walk. I think I got bunions on my bunions. I couldn’t wait to get in to my slippers .It was freezing cold in that interrogation room. I should have listened to my ma ‘You’ll get bloody pneumonia so you will’ she said before I went out. ‘A skirt half way up your backside, your boobs hanging out; and how you plan on walking in those boots, never mind dance in them is beyond me. You’re just asking for trouble dressed like that…and no coat on in the middle of December. You’ll be sorry girl, mark my words.
You should always listen to your mammy.
…to be continued tomorrow…D is for… Dressed to kill