by Harry Morris
As you can imagine, there was quite a lot of banter among the shift on hearing what had taken place, but it was taken with good humour – well, what else could he do?
The moral of the story: Go, before you go-go, and you’ll avoid any mishaps!
Good News, Bad News
…
A solicitor met with his ned client and said, ‘The blood results are back and we have good news and bad news.’
‘Give me the bad news first,’ said the ned.
‘Your DNA matches the blood found on the deceased, the murder weapon and the victim’s car!’
‘So what’s the good news then?’ the ned asked.
To which his solicitor replied, ‘Your cholesterol levels are normal!’
Things Go Better With?
…
A well known fizzy drinks company announced today that we will soon be available to buy Viagra over the counter in liquid form, for the first time.
Apparently, Coca-Cola will market it as a power boosting beverage, suitable to be used as a mixer.
It will now be possible for a man, or woman, literally to pour themselves a ‘stiff one’!
However, it’s obvious that we can no longer refer to this as a ‘soft drink’, and it now gives new meaning to drink names such as ‘Cocktails’ and ‘Highballs’, never mind the reference to a good old-fashioned ‘stiff drink’!
They are preparing to market their new concoction with their latest advertising campaign slogan:
‘If whisky makes you frisky and brandy makes you randy, then one straight Coke will make you pregnant!’
Something to think about.
There is more money being spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on Alzheimer’s research!
The British Medical Association is concerned that by the year 2040 there could be a large elderly population of women with perky boobs and men with huge erections, who have absolutely no recollection of what to do with them!
Pharmaceutical companies have submitted the latest examples of new generic names for Viagra, to be considered by a team of experts , but it appears they have already decided on Mycoxafloppin.
They state that careful consideration was given to others, such as Mycoxafailin, Mydixadrupin, Mydixarizin and Dixafix.
All side effects will be dealt with by a highly effective course of Ibepokin!
Whatever Next?
…
Is it just me? There I was driving down the road when I came across a big yellow police sign at the side of the kerb, with big bold letters declaring:
‘POLICE NOTICE! ACCIDENT HERE ON TUESDAY NIGHT AT 7.30PM. WITNESSES WANTED!’
So, being an upholding member of the public and a former police officer, I made my way down there to witness this accident, which was apparently going to take place at 7.30 pm.
I should have known, after being there for approximately twenty minutes and nobody else had shown up, that the police had probably decided to cancel it without telling anybody!
However, it did strike me that things must be pretty bad in the police nowadays, when they have to advertise to get a decent road accident!
Brimstone and Fire!
…
Apart from being one of the senior members of the motorcycle section, Jimmy Lynch was also the motorcycle riding instructor.
Jimmy was a nice guy sometimes, but most of the time he was a cantankerous old bugger.
During my time in the section we had a motorcycle display team, where we did some fancy cross-over riding at speed and a variety of other daredevil tricks.
These were performed at festivals, fetes and the occasional international police tattoo.
On one particular occasion, Kenny Malcolm, having formed a good relationship with other bike-minded organisations, was asked if we would like to attend the military base in Catterick at the invitation of the White Helmet motorcycle display team, and train with them over the weekend.
As this was a good chance to work closely with a team of professionals, the entire police display team accepted the invitation gladly.
All equipped for the journey, we left in convoy for Catterick.
Whilst there, we watched with interest as the Helmets demonstrated their entire repertoire of tricks, which were impressive to say the least, carrying out their manoeuvres at breakneck speed and with inch perfection on their passing moves, narrowly avoiding a collision with each other by a hair’s breadth.
Near the end of their display, they performed a stunt called the Hoop of Fire, where the rider goes up a ramp at speed, takes off into the air and goes through a circle of fire, landing ‘safely’ on the opposite side, where the rider then does a lap of honour, acknowledging the applause of the spectators.
Now Jimmy was performing this stunt during our displays, but the White Helmets carried it out more spectacularly, using more bales of hay and more petrol, creating more fire and higher flames for a greater impact.
As it turned out, not long after this weekend visit, we had a motorcycle display to perform and, to add even more spice, Jimmy decided he would perform his daredevil Hoop of Fire stunt, the White Helmet way.
The extra bale of hay was added, raising the hoop higher and so the ramp for take-off also had to be raised to compensate.
Jimmy was really going for it this time and requested the extra fuel be used to soak the extra bale.
The display was going well with not one mistake or near miss during the entire show. And so it came down to the big finale, where Jimmy would perform his motorcycle jump through the Hoop of Fire!
The bales were lit and the flames soared high as Jimmy began his ascent up the ramp for take-off.
Whoosh! It appeared to have been executed to perfection, as Jimmy landed perfectly at the other side.
However, there was no lap of honour to accept the applause of a very enthusiastic crowd, as Jimmy came to a halt, dismounted his bike and ran over to a police traffic car, which immediately sped off … to the nearest hospital.
Jimmy had made the mistake of wearing his display team open-faced helmet and, as a result of the fierce, high flames, he had received severe burns to his face.
He was also missing eyebrows, eye lashes and his rather dapper moustache!
It was a few months after his recovery before Jimmy was able to return to duty, but when he did, there was the usual cruel banter, and signs stating ‘Would Jimmy Lynch kindly extinguish himself before entering the motorcycle garage!’
Another trick was to stack several tins of haggis on his locker.
‘What’s this for?’ Jimmy asked.
‘This is just to let you know you’re in the ‘Burns section!’ was the cruel reply.
PART SIX
Extremely Violent
…
Police Headquarters were recently contacted by the area Mental Health Team and asked to assist in the execution of an arrest warrant for an extremely violent and dangerous mental health patient, residing at a local address within their area.
With a due sense of gravity appropriate to the situation, the officers taking part in the operation assembled in full uniform to enter the address, by force if need be, to make the arrest.
A procession of officers made their way along the street to the house, where entry was gained by force, in a professional manner, as the officers sprang into action, ready to subdue the suspect, who was described as an enraged giant of a man, who was ready to do them harm.
Unfortunately, he was out!
After several minutes of indecision within the house, they were alerted by a knock at the door, and they were informed by the next-door neighbour that the man they were looking for was outside in the street, approaching the house on foot.
The police team immediately scrambled and sprang into action for the second time in as many minutes, as they burst through the door onto the street outside, ready to meet this giant of a man with the fearsome reputation – but surprise, surprise! The great hulk they were expecting to confront turned out to
be a quiet, sixty-year-old, frail old man measuring 4’ 1” in height with his shoes on.
His reputation had been slightly exaggerated, to say the least.
It was left to one of the youngest officers in the team to approach him, with care, and ask, ‘Will you come with us, please?’
To which he replied, without the slightest hesitation or physical resistance, ‘Okay, sir!’
Situation dealt with, all the officers, attired in their special PSU kit, had the distinction of having to troop back along the street with their little frail, elderly male in custody and scores of residents looking on!
History’s Most Original Contraceptives
…
Sixteen tadpoles fried in quicksilver, to be swallowed quickly by the woman immediately after intercourse. (Ancient China)
Let me answer on behalf of the ladies with twelve letters, nine of which are consonants and three vowels, all made up into three words:
‘Fuck right off!’!
True Facts
…
Ghengis Khan killed his own brother over an argument about fish! Apparently he didn’t ask for salt and vinegar on his.
Thirty-one-year-old Brenda Hunter, of Illinois, shot her brother in 1994 because she disliked the type of cheese he put on her chilli dinner! Hmm! Where did he get it from?
Peter Weiller, a German film buff, was beaten to death by the cinema ushers in 1994 because he had brought his own popcorn! In his defence, he did pay for his Coke.
A Frenchman called Noel Carriou killed both of his wives because they were poor cooks. As a result, he was sentenced to eight years in jail in 1978 after he killed his second wife for cooking him an overdone roast. Seventeen years earlier, he had broken his first wife’s neck after she too served him an overcooked meal. In sentencing him, the judge sympathised with Carriou and stated, ‘Good cooking is an important part of married life!’ If that was the case, owners of chip shops would be getting murdered every day in Glesca.
Heinrich Gembach of Munich choked his wife to death in 1995, by force-feeding her wheat cereal. He told the police that this was what he’d had for breakfast every morning for the last ten years! The only problem was, he put out his own breakfast every morning, so the judge sentenced him to life, because he regarded him as a cereal killer.
Restaurant owner Gilbert Menezes was sent for trial in 1996 for killing his wife’s lover, then serving his liver with fried onions to his customers! Nothing up with that if it’s cooked properly – after all, liver is very good for you.
What a Liar
…
Tommy was in court charged with a double murder.
The judge said, ‘You are charged with beating your wife to death with a hammer.’
A man at the rear of the court shouted out, ‘You bastard!’
The judge ignored his outburst and continued.
‘You are also charged with beating your wife’s lover to death with a hammer.’
The man at the rear of the court shouted out again, ‘You dirty rotten bastard!’
This time the judge looked at the man and said, ‘Sir, I can understand your anger at this crime, but I will not tolerate any more outbursts. If you have anything to say, then say it now!’
At that, the man at the rear of the court got to his feet and said, ‘For fifteen years I lived next door to that bastard. And every time I asked to borrow a bloody hammer, the bastard said he didn’t have one!’
Scottish Book Trust
…
As an author, I am extremely fortunate and privileged to be registered with the Scottish Book Trust, to perform live literature events.
This privilege allows me, as an author and storyteller, to be invited to visit areas around Scotland that I would never have the opportunity to appear in, simply because of the expense involved and the attending audiences available.
I myself have performed my ‘Stand-Up Storytelling’ to an audience of only five people before, and on another occasion four hundred, such is the difference in the turn out from area to area.
However, one particular booking I received was for an author event in Dornoch up in the north-west Highlands.
After driving for almost the entire day, I finally reached my destination and called my contact for directions to the location of the event.
The event was being held in a small community hall and after a quick something to eat and a change into my author gear, I arrived promptly at the hall, which was set up with rows of chairs in front of the stage, to meet with the organiser.
The starting time of the event came … and went, as we both waited patiently for the audience to turn up.
Sadly, after about forty minutes, we were still there, together – and alone! So I came up with a suggestion.
‘Look, mate! It doesn’t appear to have been very well advertised, and I can’t see anybody attending now, so what do you say we both head for the nearest pub and I’ll tell you some of my stories over a cool beer?’
‘Okay!’ he said. ‘But I’ll be about twenty minutes.’
‘Twenty minutes? How come?’ I asked him.
To which he replied rather dejectedly, ‘Because some daft bugger’s got to put all the chairs back!’
That’s a Charity
…
A driver is stuck in a traffic jam.
As he looks out of his car window, he sees a boy on a skateboard weaving his way through the traffic towards him.
‘Hey, son, what’s the hold up?’ he asks.
‘It’s some bammy lawyer,’ the boy replies.
‘Apparently he’s got money problems. So he’s doused himself with petrol and is lying in the middle of the road threatening to set fire to himself. We’re taking up a collection for him.’
‘How much have you got so far?’ the driver asks.
The boy replies, ‘About fourteen gas lighters and three gallons of petrol!’
Cursing on the Course
…
Big Donnie Henderson was disqualified from the police divisional golf tournament for foul and abusive language. As a result he was charged with bringing the force into disrepute and had to report to the Chief Constable to be disciplined.
‘So, Constable Henderson, when exactly did you use this disgraceful language?’ the Chief asked.
‘Last week, sir, while I was competing in the force divisional golf tournament. I had just hit one of the best tee shots of my entire career, but my golf ball hit an overhead electrical power line and plummeted to the ground, having travelled only about fifty yards.’
‘Is that when you swore?’
‘No, sir!’ Donnie replied. ‘After it hit the ground, a dog ran out from some nearby bushes, grabbed my ball in his mouth and ran off with it!’
‘Is that when you swore and became abusive?’ the Chief asked again.
‘Not exactly, sir,’ Donnie said. ‘Just at that moment, an eagle appeared in the sky, flew down and grabbed the dog in its claws and flew off with it.’
‘So is that when you swore?’ asked the astonished Chief.
‘No, not yet,’ Donnie replied. ‘As the eagle flew off with the dog, it headed towards the green, and just as it passed over a clump of trees next to the green, the dog dropped my ball.’
‘Did you swear then?’ the Chief asked, becoming exasperated.
‘No!’ Donnie said. ‘Because just at that minute, the ball struck a tree, careered off a large rock, bounced over a sand bunker onto the green, and stopped within six inches of the hole.’
To which the Chief responded, ‘Oh! Don’t tell me you missed the fucking putt?’
Trust in Jesus!
…
A housebreaker is stealing from a house when he hears a voice say, ‘Jesus is watching you!’
To his relief, he turns around to see a parrot looking on.
‘What’s your name?’ he asks.
The parrot replies, ‘Moses.’
‘Moses?’ the housebreaker repeats. ‘What sort of person calls thei
r parrot Moses?’
To which the parrot replies, ‘The same sort of person who calls that big fierce Rottweiler behind you Jesus!’
Ice Cold Moggy
…
One Sunday morning, local cop Dick Waddell was on mobile patrol, checking for stolen vehicles in the Craigmillar area of Edinburgh, commonly referred to as the jungle.
The area was a regular dumping ground for joy riders to abandon the stolen cars after they were finished.
Dick stopped in front of a car with a door open and, after making a routine check, it was confirmed by his controller that he had recovered a stolen car and they were arranging a breakdown truck to attend and remove it to the police pound.
While awaiting the arrival of the breakdown truck, he heard shouting and swearing coming from the nearby tenement close.
Dick was just getting out of his panda car to check where it was coming from, when suddenly clothes, books, ornaments, plates and shoes were thrown from the second-floor veranda.
This resembled a scene from the former TV game show Don’t Forget Your Toothbrush, where household items were chucked out the windows and doors into the garden.
He attended at the house regarding the disturbance and the door was opened by a big crabbit-looking female, who in her eloquent Craigmillar accent, politely enquired of Dick, ‘Whit the fuck dae you want, Cluedo?’
Dick’s response was immediately to warn her about her conduct, coupled with the disturbance she was causing and the dangers of throwing objects over the veranda.
