Extrapolation an #10 in the previous post

Back in the days before I realised that New Years Eve should be retitled Loser's Night Out, a group of mates and I decided to go down to Lakes Entrance for the big night; and to catch up with an old mate whose family had moved down that way in High School years. As we were all young and stupid, we had a great night full of drunken debauchery.
Our schoolfriend managed to disappear whilst scuba diving the day before we got there, but we didn't find that out until later and we were young and callous anyway. We got a broken windscreen on the way home and then it started pouring with rain, but a mate had his scuba gear in the back, so I put on his mask, snorkel thingy and hood and soldiered on. The animated collection of zits at the McDonalds drive-thru didn't blink an eye.
Two or three years later I was living with the Catholic Girl and she wanted to do something - far away from her family - for New Years. Lakes seemed like a good idea at the time. We rocked down there and the first people we ran into was a small outlaw bike club (whose clubhouse was in Champ Street, Coburg, across the road from the entrance to Pentridge prison.). I'd met a couple of members before, neither of whom were there, but when I asked about them, they adopted me like a long lost son. We escaped their clutches an hour or two later (the prospects were giving me the shits) and wandered from pub to pub. I don't know if they still do it, but in those days they used to block the Esplanade off at either end with cop cars and just let people stagger about aimlessly. For some reason somebody decided to write something on the back of my shirt. Somebody else saw it and decided to write something, too. It pretty much snowballed after that and before long I had autographs pretty much everywhere.
One girl asked if she could put her name on me. I said yes, she asked where she could sign, I told her anywhere that she could find room, she got down on her knees and wrote The Lord's Prayer on my penis*. Funnily enough, GF didn't mind that at all. We kept wandering about and wandered too far; right into the clutches of the coppers who were stationed at the end of the Esplanade to prevent people from wandering too far. One of the coppers was a woman, don't remember much about her, except that she looked like she was Italian. She grabbed me like I was a murder suspect, pushed onto the bonnet of the car, threw a leg over me to hold me down and stuck her tongue so far down my throat that I thought I was growing a tail, while checking whether or not I was circumcised and that my undies weren't too tight.
Judging by the way that the other copper was laughing when she climbed off and pushed me away, I'd say it was a bet or a joke. GF got pretty steamed about it, I enjoyed it, though.
*Actually, it was just her first name. In very small letter.