Taking it back to 2021:
10th May.
They asked Cameron Kalani (that’s me) if he knew where he was.
He thought for a moment – I thought for a moment – or maybe a few moments (depends on who’s counting, really). This was the police, with machine guns – or things that looked like they’d be more at home in a war zone…
…London ; Central London ; hopefully fairly close to Victoria – Was roughly what my mind was trying to process…
Or, would have been trying a bit more successfully, if the circumstances (heavily armed police with a silent countdown of moments) had been different…
I had been bus hopping my way back down from North London, trying to get to London Victoria train station (and then back home to Sussex and bed) before my one-day travelcard expired…
But I had stopped, after reading a plaque on a large wall with razor wire on top – not exactly welcoming by most standards, and had then essentially walked a little further, and quietly rolled and smoked a cigarette on the inside of the cast iron railings around some grand Belgravia doorway, or window way…
And had, just then, climbed back out again…
Did Cameron Know His Name?
“What’s your name?”
Maybe they said “What’s your name, sir?” – I’m not sure now whether armed police typically add “sir” or “madam” like regular British police usually do…
…Anyway, this meant that I had failed to answer in time with where I thought I was.
On my journey towards Victoria station, during a walking section (I’d been bus hopping, without using a map or travel planner – I have previously lived in London, and know most of it reasonably enough for choosing a bus going in roughly the right direction… as well as roughly when to get off one, eg immediately)
But this bit I was walking, during which I noticed a woman (unmissable at 3am in the middle of the road) shouting repeatedly “CUNT!”… there was no one else around, so it is possible she did actually mean me…. Earlier, I’d been loitering a while (maybe half an hour, before I got too bored) on Pratt Street
And, somewhere along the way that night, I’d decided to change my name to “Pratt” instead
But by the time I encountered this furious woman, I hadn’t decided whether Pratt should be my first or last name – or what the other name should be… but with this now in the mix, the question now was whether it was to be “Cunt Pratt” or “Pratt Cunt”
[temporarily redacted]
…But for some reason all that came out was what I’d heard – I did actually expect them to ask me if it was my first or last name, at which point, maybe I’d have picked one…
“…I don’t think we can call you that, sir – you’re going to be with us for some time”
It turned out that I’d crossed the fence to a part of the stables complex of Buckingham Palace, and was about to get arrested, and later sectioned (“detained under the Mental Health Act”) as Cameron Kalani in any case. (My best guess was that it was some military barracks)
I think it was at this point that they asked me if I had anything in the bag…
The rucksack I’d packed, 24 hours earlier, with a knife and a bag of drugs – to make quite sure that if any police officer opened it, they would have to arrest me…
I had been trying to get arrested for 3 days (generally feeling quite embarrassed about doing anything too out of character or extreme, eg breaking a window or creating an obstruction) – trying to get a police officer to search my bag… that is, until I decided to go home and change my name instead…
…And then, had changed my mind back again when I saw the wall-sign with the razor wire on it – it said something like “Serious Organised Crime Squad : it is an offence under section xyz to attempt to climb this wall” – only, I think “Squad” has been replaced with some other word (replaced, or it was only ever “Serious Organised Crime Squad” in some portions of the public imagination… “S.O.C.A” I think, if my memory serves from the time, so it’s probably “Agency”…)
…But here I was being asked about the contents – already with semi-automatic weapons very much at the ready. I explained pretty quickly that there was a knife in the bag (which was already in their possession)
They found it and then searched me and found nothing more, until we got to Charing Cross Custody Suite – when they found the bag of drugs (which tested positive for cocaine)
Charing Cross Custody Suite
It was a struggle to believe it was a normal police station. At least at first, I didn’t believe it was – I’d been arrested before, but this time there were graffiti masterpieces on the walls by the main desks, and one of the officers I encountered inside must have been pretty close to 7′ tall (2.1m) – which is what it takes for 6’3 (191) me to really have to look up.
Also.. I’d absorbed the idea that it was a good idea to ask for a lawyer, when you get arrested – although I was fairly sure one would be offered without me having to ask, and was wondering why they were expecting me to say what the drugs were etc without one present… but I couldn’t decide what to say under the circumstances…
I think they decided I was completely incapable of answering any questions, and didn’t tell me until much later that a solicitor did in fact have a look, and concluded that there was no current need to trouble me…
….For a little on why I was trying to get arrested, see the next post