Whoopa-whoopa-whoopa-WOOOOOOOoooooop.
That's the sound of a police car pulling up outside yo crib, that is. Mofo.
And I should know.
I've heard the fuckers from New York to Liverpool.
It's never a harbinger of good news.
Usually a fanfare of death, in fact.
And why they can't just go about their dreadful business quietly is a mystery known only to those who swear allegiance to The Smith (Jaaaaacqqqui) and have the funny handshake off pat.
Anyway, they're calling again.
Not on a morbid mission to point out our friends and relatives' frail grasp on mortality this time, thank heavens.
Still. It's a drag.
A FUCKING BIG DRAG.
