Corgis

In my late teens I had a girlfriend (no, it's a true story) whose family owned two corgis. We used to take them for a walk round the back streets of a certain northern city after dusk. Plenty of dark alleyways. I was in uniform at the time. Why ruin my own clothes when I can ruin the government's?

Up against an alley wall and going at it like hammer and tongs when a light went on and a back kitchen window was flung open. A woman shouted: "Stop that, you dirty boogers!"

I replied in my best telephone voice: "Madam, do you know who owns these dogs? Please do not interfere in the business of your betters!"

"Very sorry, I'm sure," she said then closed the window and switched off her kitchen light.

It was too late, though. When the girl can't stop hiccupping and giggling, you have to admit defeat. I escorted her and the pooches home then set off on the long tramp back to camp. It started to drizzle before I got there.