If you saw a red Ducati parked up next to a brightly painted Pan European (with disco lights) at the side of the A12 on your way home tonight, that was me. First time I've taken the bike out this year and only because all the trains fucked up this morning and I don't do "replacement bus service". On the way back I gave it a few too many beans from the traffic lights, only to notice the polisman sitting chatting outside McDonalds. Oops. Three traffic lights later and he came past rather fast and did the deadly point to the side of the road. I honestly thought I was well and truly fucked. Luckily I must have done the RightThing as I managed to talk myself into getting a severe bollocking and a once over of the bike. I'd forgotten to put the tax disk back on the bike, but he'd already checked that, my insurance, licence, registration and MOT over the radio. Even the £5 BSAU stickers from eBay worked. He did admit that he didn't actually get a speed reading (thank fuck!) and didn't notice the wheelie from the lights either (double thank fuck!). Suitably chastised I made steady but safe progress all the way home. Result, I say.