Steering the law

As a young policeman working in the West End of London in the Sixties, we were called several times to the Steering Wheel Club in Curzon Street, usually to deal with drunks trying to get in. We were always made welcome and often stayed for a while, leaving our driver outside to monitor the radio.

Once, in the early hours of the morning, we were parked outside in our unmarked Jaguar 2.4 Mk2. A rather drunk racing driver of the day came out with a tray of drinks for us and asked if he could drive our Jaguar on the bell and horns and detachable blue light.

Instead we escorted him back inside, where the well-known clientele were enjoying themselves. Suffice it to say, so did we. When we got back to the station we found we still had the tray [right]. We used it a couple of times and our cleaning lady washed it up. This was a shame; 50 years later I found it in my attic, which reminded me it had been signed by Graham Hill, Jim Clark, Innes Ireland and others, and some of the writing had been washed off. The club, which made us honorary members, charged five guineas for membership. I still have the form. Happy Days.

Dr Ken German