Some years ago a raw, young police constable was sent to do duty during the T.T.   He was dropped off at a bridge on a notoriously dangerous stretch of the historical course where he was to meet up with a St John’s ambulance man. 

Our policeman could see no sign of his promised companion and became increasingly agitated as the time of racing approached.  He had been well prepared for most aspects of working with the public, but he was becoming more and more convinced that nothing had prepared him for this posting.  What if there was an incident?  Should he try to attend to it, or should he get help first?  Who was his nearest potential source of help?  ....Where was the St John's Ambulance man?? 

The roads had now closed and the travelling marshals hurtled past at frightening speeds.  But they were not even racing, and he dreaded to think what was in store for him when the actual race began.  ......And where was that St John's Ambulance man??? 

He decided to retreat down the side of the bridge where he tried to overcome his panic attacks by sitting on the river bank in the scorching, afternoon sun.  He slowed his breathing down and tried chewing on a piece of grass....................But where was the St John's Ambulance man??? 

He was aware of the stillness, and the silence that is encountered before the distant sound of racing engines disturbs the tranquillity.  He was aware of birds, singing. 

 It was then that he realised that he really did not like motorbikes.  Within minutes his peaceful backwater would be violated by horrendous noise, speed, and smell.  He could not even bear to think of what might happen ........was bound to happen, he became convinced. 

 The whole of the Isle of Man Constabulary would hear how the new boy had made such a cock-up of his first T.T. duty.  People would hear of his floundering incompetence.  They would point him out in Strand Street.  Men and women would cross the road to avoid him, then watch, and whisper to one another, and snigger, as he walked the beat.  Colleagues would avoid working with him.  He would have to leave the force that he had only just joined.  His family would be distraught.  He would have to leave the Island!  Only the St. John's Ambulance Man could save him from imminent disaster.............................But where was the St John's Ambulance man????

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine he was somewhere else. 

 Suddenly, the distant roar of racing engines shattered his moment of piece.  He squinted up at the bridge, and there, blessed relief, silhouetted against the burning sun, was the unmistakable profile of  the St John's Ambulance man!!!!!

Salvation! thought our friend, and, unable to contain his tension any longer, shouted, 

 "Am I ******* glad to see you! .....You were supposed to be here half a ****** hour ago!"

" Don’t you normally stand up when you address your Chief Constable?" The silhouetted form on the bridge replied, bluntly

The above story will appear in  TRUE TALES AND SILLY STORIES FROM THE T.T. COURSE

I am putting together a booklet (hopefully funny) of stories and anecdotes (and myths/lies) that relate to Isle of Man biking and racing.

All proceeds from the sale of this will go to MOTORCYCLE CHARITIES on the Island, especially HELICOPTER FUNDS.

If you have a story/ germ of an idea/ suggestion/ photo/ cartoon or a silly tale that could apply to an Isle of Man situation, please send them to me.  All contributions will be acknowledged in the booklet.

.....If you are a rider, mechanic, scrutineer, organiser, official, sponsor, supporter, marshal, reporter, photographer, medic, policeman, helicopter pilot, member of the public, or simply live on or near the course, you have a valuable contribution to make.