On December 23, 2005, after the Christmas party at the office in Portmouth, Mr. Jack Samvis was driving home. Suddenly, his car was stopped by a police car because one of his taillights had failed. The police smelled that he had a smell of alcohol and asked him to take a breath test. He sighed at the alcohol meter and the result was positive. The police looked at Mr. Samvis and asked:
”Well — how much have you drunk tonight?”
”Oh, police officer, didn’t drink much, just a bottle of wine. Oh, there are still a few cups of gin to drink quinine water… plus brandy, just two or three cups of brandy, so much.”
”I understand,” the police said. “Can you look at your driver’s license and insurance?”
Mr. Samvis can’t find it. The police then took him to the police station and let him stay in a small room.
”The forensic doctor will give you a blood test, you are here, wait,” the police said.
Mr. Samvis sat down. He remembered his new car and thought of his work. He needed a car to go to work. However, in England, if you drink too much before driving, the driver’s license will be revoked for one year.
”The driver’s license seems to be unstoppable–and my car, my rice bowl.” He meditated.
The police station is noisy. It was a Friday before Christmas and the police were very busy. Suddenly, the door opened, and two big policemen pushed a man into the room–the man wore a T-shirt, and the T-shirt read: “I hate pigs.” There is a pig on it, and the pig is still alert. helmet.
The police closed the door and left. The man in a black leather jacket lifted his foot and knocked the chair down the wall. Mr. Samvis is afraid. The man turned and looked at Mr. Samvis.
”Hello, man,” he asked. “What crime have you committed?”
”Oh, God! Your driver’s license is lost! You have to pay a fine of about £200!”
”I know,” said Mr. Samvis, downcast. “What about you?”
”I? Nothing happened. I walked down the street and saw others playing fake. There were five or six men in the group. Later the police arrived and caught more than a dozen people. They caught me because of my T-shirt. I Don’t worry! They will let me go tomorrow morning.”
”Oh, you are so lucky.” Mr. Samvis sighed.
”Are you blood test?” the man asked.
”Not yet, wait a little longer.”
”I have an idea,” the man said. “I haven’t touched a drop of wine these days. The forensic doctor doesn’t know you. Let him pump my blood to test it?”
”Absolutely not! This…this…not to be!” said Mr. Samvis.
”Think about it – your driver’s license, your car, and yours…”
”My rice bowl.” Mr. Samvis went on.
”You give me 10 pounds, let me fake your blood test?” the man said.
”This is definitely not the case! I can’t do this…”
Just then, the door opened. A man came in with a brown bag.
”I am a doctor of Forensic Cole. Which one is Mr. Samvis?”
”I am.” The man in the leather jacket replied. The true Mr. Samvis said without a word, quietly looking at the door.
”Take off the coat.” The doctor said, gave him a blood test.
”Okay, put on your coat. Go home.”
”Thank you, forensic doctor,” said the man. “Merry Christmas! Oh! Goodbye, man. I wish you a Merry Christmas!”
The doctor walked out with the man in the leather jacket. Mr. Samvis wants to call them back, but he doesn’t. He sat down on the chair, fell to the table, and fell asleep.
When he woke up, he found a sheriff standing beside him.
”So, are you Lomax?” Police officer.
”Lomax?” Mr. Samvis hesitated, “Hey…”
At this time, another policeman entered the room.
”Oh… what have I done?” Mr. Samvis asked. “Can I go home?”
”Go home? You still go to prison!”
”But… what crime did I commit?”
”Take it down – Lomax. You stole a car, smashed the window of a jewelry store, bumped into a police car, and beat three policemen. You will stay in prison for a long time.”
”Wait, let me explain…”
Three hours later, Mr. Samvis’s mouth was still in his mouth.