I guess it was inevitable that tonight would be a disaster – my track history with dating makes hilarious reading at best. Cat, though (I could barely say her name without my knuckles whitening), chatting to her online was so refreshing, I thought this date would be different. How wrong I was…

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Work had over-run manically that day: seemed like every low-life wanted to get nicked at my station. You name it, we’d had it that day, including a near riot when PC Bell tried to take a bottle of cider off of Mad Albert. Despite being 6′ 5, 18 stone and a former sparring-partner of Big Daddy, Albert’s normally a very happy drunk, so I usually leave him and the bottle to sleep it off in the cells – makes for an easier life. But not today. Today we had relief Desk Sergeant MacPherson calling the shots: he of the ‘strict following of the rules, Missy’. God help us! Suffice to say, Mad Albert caused more damage to the ‘Nick than I ever thought possible; gave MacPherson a black eye (I did smile at that); assaulted two of my DC’s; and evaded restraint for a full five minutes. All this was relatively funny, in a Benny Hill way, that is, until Superintendent Fraser appeared and yelled at me to take charge: twelve burly policemen couldn’t restrain him but, apparently, I could! Convincing Albert to calm down, he came to a halt, sank down onto the floor right next to my feet and promptly (and simultaneously) puked, pissed and shat himself! No amount of scrubbing is EVER going to get rid of that smell: I may need therapy for life!

Added to that, the fact that I’d intended (but seriously failed) to go shopping at lunch for a new shirt, I wasn’t even certain I had anything clean to wear on the date – even if I did get rid of the bloody stench! Why oh why had I let Ryder drag me down the pub last night? Cheeky bugger had said it was my ‘last hurrah’ as I’d be moving out of my bachelorette pad by the end of the week and buying hers & hers kittens in true lesbian style.

The day just seemed to drag on with a never-ending number of scallies being brought in for questioning. Staring at the custody records for the fifth time, I was debating whether or not to call Cat and postpone; the only way I’d get there even vaguely on time was to shower here and go in my work clothes. Christ! Maybe if I borrowed some perfume off one of the girls, I could mask the scent of Mad Albert and his fellows.