Tooper has always had a morbid fascination for those TV programmes featuring breathtakingly reckless car chases through built-up areas.
Whilst the decent upstanding part of him is appalled at this blatant law-breaking and holds its breath as the inevitable pensioner-driven Morris Minor or mum toting pushchair strays into the battlefield, there is another part of him that takes vicarious pleasure in watching some suicide jockey flouting every law of the Highway Code so flagrantly. While the rest of us stoically swallow being pulled over for having barely troubled the speedometer while meandering through a deserted village…at midnight, only for smug lardy cop to enquire, ‘…in a bit of a hurry were we, sir..?'; here is someone who quite clearly will not take this sort of thing lying down. Nor, in the heat of battle, does he intend to observe give way signs, leave the required safe braking distance from the car in front, signal before performing a manoeuvre or, for that matter, give way to traffic already on a roundabout!
Tooper has always wondered at what point the inevitable conclusion to all this bravado finally kicks in. Is it when you hear the helicopter circling overhead or when the fuel gauge starts flashing? Either way, for our erstwhile fugitive there is, one supposes, the satisfaction of having given the cops a bit of a run for their money together with the thought, I fought the law and the law won … but only on penalties!