Today I was nearly kidnapped. For reasons I won’t go into, I had been shunted from Hove to Brighton and back to Hove by Brighton & Hove City Council. Having walked miles and miles in the blistering heat I was sent to an office in Kemp Town (just outside Brighton) only to find, again, that I’d been sent to the wrong place. I should, in fact, have been at Brighton City Hall. Now, without being rude, I explained to the man in the Kemp Town Office that I’d been sent to numerous incorrect offices and thought the council service was poor (bear in mind I’ve actually worked for the council for over a year and know how shit they are). Just as I was leaving to return to Brighton City Hall a man who had overheard me interrupted.
“I can give you a lift, if you want?” he said.
I was hot and annoyed so didn’t really think about what I was saying so I just thanked the man and accepted the offer.
“I’ll only be a couple of minutes,” the man continued, “I’ve just got some business to finalise”.
So I sat next to the man in the waiting area and we began chatting. He was a tall, broadly built man – much bigger than myself – who spoke in a deep booming voice. He began telling me how he’d been evicted from his council house without notice and that council workmen had smashed up furniture which he had bought.
“But I filmed it all. I filmed ‘em doing it. Got the date and time on it and everything. And I’ve still got the receipts for the furniture. There’s nowt they can do.”
Suddenly I started thinking. Why had I accepted the invitation to get in a car with a complete stranger?! Not only a complete stranger, but someone who was much bigger than me and enjoyed filming things being smashed up. How foolish I had been! Never trust people, Dan. That’s the first rule of civilised society. Keep yourself to yourself. Keep your head down and try not to attract attention. But what had I done? I’d done the exact opposite. Firstly, I’d been overheard by a stranger. Then I’d spoken to a stranger. And very soon I was about to get into their car and be driven to Godknowswhere. If I wasn’t careful, this stranger was dangerously close to becoming an acquaintance. I had even sat down next to him – there was no getting away now. And then I started to panick. What if the guy’s a complete nutter? What if he kidnaps me and takes me to a secluded old warehouse and abuses me? He might cut me up into little bits and send them to my parents. But what could I do? What’s worse than being kidnapped, tortured and murdered? Well, being rude. I couldn’t just come out and say to this person “oh sorry, I don’t want a lift actually because I’m scared of you”. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. There was, after all, a small chance that he was perfectly normal.
In the end, I opted for the safe option.
“Are you waiting to see someone?”
Brilliant, I thought. He’ll say that he’s waiting for someone then I’ll be able to say I’m in a rush a beat a hasty retreat.
“Yeah, but to be honest I don’t need to I’ve got the footage”
Shit, I thought. He turned to the receptionist.
“Tell Mr Robinson I don’t need to see him. He’ll be hearing from my solicitor.”
And with that, the tall stranger stood up and left the office. I followed him out into the hot afternoon sun and approached the car. I had to be on my best behaviour now. Don’t antagonise him, Dan. Just agree with what he says.
“Sorry, it’s a bit messy in here,” he said as I slipped into the passenger seat. I laughed. Loud. Too loud really. Could he tell I was scared? But what does a psychopath care if you’re scared? They probably like that. The problem would be if he’s a borderline psycho and all he needs is some terrified person in his passenger seat to push him over the edge. I had to act. Quickly, make a friendly remark, I thought.
“Haha, don’t worry about the mess – you should she my bedroom!” Why did I say that? What a stupid thing to do. Not only had I got into his car but I’d invited him back to my place!
He laughed and pulled out of the carpark.
“Where do you want to be? I’ll just drop you by the Pier shall I?” he said. Very clever. That’s right, lull me into a false sense of security before you butcher me. I clung onto my seat belt and began wondering how I could break free of this metallic fortress. Foot through the windscreen? Elbow through the window? He might smother me too quickly.
We drove slowly along the front, passing a pub.
“Ah, The Legend. Great pub! You ever been there?” he said.
“No,” I replied.
“Used to spend a lot of time in there when I was younger.” Damn, I thought. Bring in some witty banter, Dan. Break the atmosphere of fear.
“Haha, propping up the bar, I guess?”
“Yeah, shouldn’t really talk about it though, I used to have a bit of a drink problem. Well, not a bit, it was quite serious really.”
No! I was stuck in a car with an alcoholic nutter who was going to rip off my balls and feed them back to me. What a way to go! All I’d wanted to do was pay my council tax! Just as I was about to barge open the door and roll into the road, the stranger pulled the car into the verge and popped the doors.
“Here OK for you?”
“Yes, great ,“ I said, “thanks very much for the lift. Bye”.
He drove off and I wandered up to the City Hall. I felt ashamed. Why had I been so suspicious? Why had I thought the worse of someone? And why can’t people do a nice deed without being accused of being a psychopathic murderer?
Dan
I checked the Ladma Channel on Comedy Blaze and saw all our details - along with accompanying picture and blurb. All our other films were also up there. Yet, for the life of me, I couldn't remember signing up to the site. I tried our username with all our usual passwords. I couldn't get in. I tried requesting the password to all our usual emails. I couldn't get in. So I emailed Comedy Blaze saying that we couldn't access our account and could they tell us which email we signed up with? But they didn't reply.
As you can imagine, this is a very alarming concern. Either someone has created a profile on our behalf or stolen our log-in details (but we still can’t remember making an account). I feel like a white middle-class lawyer who's had their identity stolen by a bin thief. But instead of spending all my money on themselves they've put down a deposit on a really nice house - the only drawback being they've decorated the house with Nazi memorabilia and insist on lynching black people in my back garden. If anyone’s got any ideas, please let us know. We appreciate the plays and being featured on the main page, but this racist video just isn’t cricket. 
