(Near the end of my night shift I have been held up. The doors are smashed to pieces, there are at least four police cars on the forecourt (including the dog unit), several police in the store and crime scene tape across the entrance. While being interviewed by a detective I notice a regular walking up to the door.)
Policeman: “You can’t go in there, ma’am.
(He is on the other side of the forecourt, too far away to stop her. The customer ignores him and moves the cones.)
Policeman: “Ma’am! You can’t go in. They’re closed.”
(She ignores him again, ducks under the tape and weaves her way through the shattered glass past two more shocked policemen. After picking up the newspaper she walks to the counter.)
Manager: “We’re closed.”
Customer: “Oh. Really? Why?”