Bit more name dropping banter then.
After the Brighton bombing, Norman Tebbit moved to an old mill house about a mile up the road from my farmhouse, one night after the pub had shut i parked my truck up a small track nearby, so as i could chat to a young lady, who i was giving a lift home to(the scenic route)
It was all going swimmingly, when all of a sudden a man in a suit with a very powerful torch and a gun! Tapped on my window, and asked me who i was and what i was doing, i don't mind telling you i was a little scared! I answered his questions, then another man with a gun! checked me out by radio, i was asked politely to go home and not to use that lane for chatting in future!
I had just changed my truck, so my registration number did not correspond to me, during crossover of log book!
Pass the brown cords moment!
Ivan...