A week after Georgie Markov was shot in the leg with ricin from an umbrella, me and a pal were walking on Waterloo Bridge where the foul deed was done. As we descended the stairs on the South-West side of the bridge, we were accosted by two of the biggest, nastiest looking cops I've ever seen. One of them, flat peaked cap pulled down on his nose, put his face about 2" from mine, and demanded to know where we were at this time last week. I totally went blank, and in that instant couldn't remember where I'd been 5 minutes ago, let alone last week. I mumbled and muttered some made-up claptrap, and with a disgusted snarl was told to "carry on gentlemen". I never polished off Mr Markov, but I nearly confessed there and then! I'd be hopeless under interrogation!