When I was growing up, I wasn?t exactly a bad lad. Sure, I got into a few scrapes and I might have given the police reason to scribble my name down in their book every now and then but I was fairly well behaved. On the whole, anyway. So when my mum answered the door to a couple of coppers who were wanting to talk about yours truly, she was beyond concerned.

Drama

Anyone that?s ever watched any TV drama programs will know that when two uniformed officers knock on a sweet old ladies front door, they?ve almost always got bad news. My mum would probably stab me if she heard me calling her an old lady; as it happens, this was about 15 years ago, so she would have only been in her 40s anyway. But that’s besides the point. The point I?m making is that when two officers knock on your door, with stern faces, asking when the last time you saw your son was, you automatically think the very worst.
So you can imagine my mums joy when they told her why they were really there. She was certainly pleased they hadn?t come to tell her that I?d perished, anyway. In fact, they?d come to tell her they were looking for me, and that they wanted to arrest me.

I was about 16 or 17 at the time, and on the weekend in question I was away racing; Donington Park if memory serves me. When my mum told the nice police officers that?s what I was doing, they told her that my motorcycling antics were exactly what they wanted to talk to me about.

You see, they had reason to believe ...