West Brom v City 1983, aged 20, City score, we all go mad and I lost my footing and slipped over. Someone picks me up and I turn to say “thanks” and the cop twists my arm around my back and marches me off to the police room as my mates pile around saying I hadn’t done anything.
I’m in this room with loads of plod stood around and a big bastard in a white shirt with stripes. I keep protesting I’d done nothing other than fall over and looked directly at the twat who nabbed me and asked him what did I do? Nothing. That’s why you won’t answer. Big twat in white shirt tells me to shut up.
In frustration I move to the back wall, lean against it with one foot against the wall. Big twat in white shirt gets up, charges over to me, grabs my jacket collar and punches me on the lower chin saying take your foot off the wall or I’ll be in court for criminal damage (seriously!)
He then asks for my name and address and no idea why I said this, but I did - “I’m not saying anything without the presence of a solicitor”. Big fat twat in white shirt is rankled….. “what did you say?”
i shat myself, gulped and repeated it, half expecting another slap but instead he said “take his description down and throw him out”
I thought “hhmmm I’m in the right here” and as one plod opened the door I turned and looked at him and said “and I noted your number and will be reporting you for assault” he got up up and ran towards me but I was through the door and off like a rocket! The twat never left the safety of the room surrounded by his chums.