It had been a long and arduous night. It was hot and a large fan, hanging from the ceiling, worked hard to keep the sticky air circulating. The desk Sergeant wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and looked at the new, overzealous Constable as he brought in another drunk.
‘What is wrong with this fellow PC Newman’, he asked him as if he did not know.
‘Drunk and disorderly, Sarge,’ came the answer.
‘You could have left him where he was, he does not cause us any problems.’
‘He was urinating,’ the Constable said, somewhat embarrassed.
‘We all do that from time to time. PC Newman, if you haven’t noticed.’
‘But not in front of three ladies, Sarge,’ the Constable said with a raised voice.
The Sergeant looked up at the drunk and seemed to recognise him. He had been sleeping off the plonk many a times at the station.
‘All right then, we process him,’ the Sergeant said and turned to the drunk,
‘What is the matter with you, you look different today, Ian?’
The drunk held on to the desk to steady himself and said,
‘..cause I’m not Ian, Sarge!’
With that he collapsed on to the floor.