- Receiving stolen drugs!
- Loving the streets!
- Slagging the law!
- Organ-sharing!
- Public hello!
- Illegal lubrication!
- Pigeon-getting!
- Hard nudity!
- Wanky-wanky!
Them and roughly 134 other offences. I was looking at about 25 years for that lot. Pretty scary, I can tell you!
However, through a series of complicated legal manoeuvres, which I can't be arsed to discuss in detail, I managed to get myself tried as a war criminal at the UN's Yugoslav tribunal in The Hague.
The International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia may look a bit forbidding to the untrained eye, but actually, if you don't abscond or cark it before your case goes to trial, it'll probably only give you a tossy four-month sentence, or even let you go free altogether. And if, like Biljana Plavsic, you plea-bargain on charges relating to your pivotal role in the most heinous act of genocide in Europe since World War 2, chances are most of the other charges will be dropped and you'll serve no more than six of an eleven-year sentence. Six years! For genocide! And police protection when you get out!
What criminal wouldn't want to be tried by these motherfuckers? They strike fear into the hearts of precisely no-one. As I write, Radovan Karadžić is being sick on a picture of Judge O-Gon Kwon, which he will present to the judge himself on Tuesday morning, telling him: "this will represent me in court! Now I go back to playing Farmville! Tell me when I have been acquitted! Haha!"
Anyhow, long story short, not only was I found not guilty on all counts, but the tribunal actually pleaded guilty to crimes of its own against me, paid me a £1.8m fine and sentenced itself to life imprisonment.
Result!
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