Hold on to your seats, readers . . .
I am known to millions, and loved by at least half a dozen, under my nom-de-plume of NobblySan.
However, in the interests of promoting their policy of transparency and accountability, I have been requested by my employers, Nottinghamshire County Council, to make public my true identity and job title – together with details of my role within the council.
My real name is Mr James P. Kirk, and I hold the position of Senior Traffic Enforcement Officer, within the Nottingham County Council Highways Department (Interstellar Division)
Together with my long-time colleague Sid Pock, we patrol Nottinghamshire and several nearby galaxies, in our specially adapted ‘Constitution ‘ class Ford Transit, marked with the council’s fleet number NCC-1701.
The van has been adapted from the standard Transit (the sort that you’ll be used to seeing teararsing through red lights while the driver texts his missus, before fly-tipping his load of builder’s waste in a lay-by) by the addition of a warp drive, some phaser cannon, and room in the back for a few road cones, flashing lights and a spare bag of dilithium crystals.
Sid (he’s a right miserable bastard – never smiles, but does raise a mean eyebrow when you suggest that he buys the bacon butties) and I, take our enforcement duties seriously.
Only last week I recorded in my Traffic officer’s log no fewer than 37 incidents in one single stardate. These ranged from relatively minor things such as a broken down Nissan X-trail on the A1 near Newark, to the more serious end of the scale in the form of a Klingon battle fleet parked illegally in Retford high street.
The X-trail had run out of petrol, and was soon restarted after Sid handed over the can of unleaded that he was drinking, while we had the Klingons back on the move after I’d given their fleet commander a stern talking to – blocking the centre of an entire market town while you try to blag your way into the bogs in the local Costa Coffee is NOT reasonable behaviour in my book. We kept an eye on them as they left Retford, and followed them at a safe distance for a couple of light years just to be on the safe side.
Anyhow, must dash – duty calls and all that.
I’ll keep you up to date with my exploits later, if time and space (the final frontier) permit.