care of itself. It's been a rough couple of weeks so let’s go for something to eat and drink. Anthony that means you too mate!” O'Keeffe said trying to make light of the situation and hoping that Foster would get back to being himself now that the stress that lead up to giving evidence had gone. Foster, although looking less than enthused, shrugged his shoulders and agreed to go. Despite some of the hostilities, Conan and the others welcomed his agreement with a round of back slapping and grunts. Foster beamed a slightly forced smile, momentarily appearing like his old self to the others as they left in search of a nearby pub. Inspector Balham jovially told them to behave as they walked to which they all replied “Yes mum!”.
The eleven officers arrived at an old spit and sawdust style Victorian pub which was just a miles walk from the court, and not far away from the City of London's police station which would provide a safe haven if the press learned of their chosen drinking establishment. Simpson, always the most pragmatic of the group had suggested that they get on the tube to travel somewhere far away from the court which would make them less obvious to the locals and at a reduced the risk of being photographed boozing by the lurking paparazzi before the verdict.
“Mate, the paparazzi didn't even see us enter the court so it's highly unlikely they would recognise us, especially now we've changed, and anyway I seriously doubt they'd even bother looking for us. Right! Onto more important business; Harvey's ale all round?!” Allen said in his usual laid back manner.
Two pints into what was meant to be a quiet drink after an uncomfortable day in the stifling court house was now becoming a little louder. Consequently Simpson and MacNeil had started to become concerned that drinking that much before the big day would only lead to bad news; literally. The others had different ideas though, especially Foster who MacNeil believed had already had his fair share of drinks and was hardly someone who should have been allowed to drink so much given his recent behaviour.
“John, do you not think it's time to call it quits? Anthony's getting a little loud and he's hardly well, right!” MacNeil said
“I know.........but it's great to see him enjoying himself with the team again. Even Conan and him are getting on! One more and we'll go for something to eat, I promise!” O'Keeffe replied, interrupting MacNeil before he finished stating that Foster shouldn't be drinking.
Simpson and Arthur finished their drinks and got up from the table to be joined by Evans, Collins, Moore and Palmer, who all said they'd had enough, with Moore stating that his pain killers didn't mix well with beer too. This left Allen, Jones, Conan, Foster and O'Keeffe, who had always been the team's hell raisers, to carry on. All the nagging in the world wouldn't have made them leave.
Forty minutes later, the combination of an empty stomach and ale meant that the five of them were starting to get more than a little drunk; like Simpson and Arthur had feared. Allen feeling nauseous from dehydration and ale made his excuses and left, causing the others to rib him about being a light weight which was not just a poke at his inability to hold his drink. It wasn't long after his departure that the conversation soon turned from being about the fit scattered female arse inside the pub to reminiscing about the good old days with Marriot. The topic should have been avoided, especially with alcohol involved. Emotions and booze were a highly combustible cocktail and after less than ten minutes of talking about the Sergeant, Foster snapped that the subject should be changed to something less morose.
Conan, who was more than a little drunk and reaching the end of his tether with Foster's attitude, suddenly confronted him about his conduct in the court, stating that he could have ruined them all with his crappy demeanour. He barely finished his tongue lashing before
The eleven officers arrived at an old spit and sawdust style Victorian pub which was just a miles walk from the court, and not far away from the City of London's police station which would provide a safe haven if the press learned of their chosen drinking establishment. Simpson, always the most pragmatic of the group had suggested that they get on the tube to travel somewhere far away from the court which would make them less obvious to the locals and at a reduced the risk of being photographed boozing by the lurking paparazzi before the verdict.
“Mate, the paparazzi didn't even see us enter the court so it's highly unlikely they would recognise us, especially now we've changed, and anyway I seriously doubt they'd even bother looking for us. Right! Onto more important business; Harvey's ale all round?!” Allen said in his usual laid back manner.
Two pints into what was meant to be a quiet drink after an uncomfortable day in the stifling court house was now becoming a little louder. Consequently Simpson and MacNeil had started to become concerned that drinking that much before the big day would only lead to bad news; literally. The others had different ideas though, especially Foster who MacNeil believed had already had his fair share of drinks and was hardly someone who should have been allowed to drink so much given his recent behaviour.
“John, do you not think it's time to call it quits? Anthony's getting a little loud and he's hardly well, right!” MacNeil said
“I know.........but it's great to see him enjoying himself with the team again. Even Conan and him are getting on! One more and we'll go for something to eat, I promise!” O'Keeffe replied, interrupting MacNeil before he finished stating that Foster shouldn't be drinking.
Simpson and Arthur finished their drinks and got up from the table to be joined by Evans, Collins, Moore and Palmer, who all said they'd had enough, with Moore stating that his pain killers didn't mix well with beer too. This left Allen, Jones, Conan, Foster and O'Keeffe, who had always been the team's hell raisers, to carry on. All the nagging in the world wouldn't have made them leave.
Forty minutes later, the combination of an empty stomach and ale meant that the five of them were starting to get more than a little drunk; like Simpson and Arthur had feared. Allen feeling nauseous from dehydration and ale made his excuses and left, causing the others to rib him about being a light weight which was not just a poke at his inability to hold his drink. It wasn't long after his departure that the conversation soon turned from being about the fit scattered female arse inside the pub to reminiscing about the good old days with Marriot. The topic should have been avoided, especially with alcohol involved. Emotions and booze were a highly combustible cocktail and after less than ten minutes of talking about the Sergeant, Foster snapped that the subject should be changed to something less morose.
Conan, who was more than a little drunk and reaching the end of his tether with Foster's attitude, suddenly confronted him about his conduct in the court, stating that he could have ruined them all with his crappy demeanour. He barely finished his tongue lashing before
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