by Harry Morris
Davie quietly ran it over in his mind.
‘Is Willie’s eldest daughter no’ called Bonnie?’
‘That was just a nickname the boys gave to her on the fifth of November last year, because every guy at the firework display had been on top of her.
‘Anyways, she’s mad keen tae reward the winner wi’ a dirty weekend! Purely as a prize for being brave and absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she’s turned out to be a raving nympho like her mammy!’
Davie mulled it over in his mind and rubbed his chin.
‘A weekend away wi’ big Madonna. That is awesome, man!’
‘No! She’s awesome, but in saying that, she’s built for comfort. So it’s settled then, you’re doing it?’
‘It’s settled. I’m doing it!’
As they both shook hands on the decision, Brian said, ‘Right! I’ll leave ye tae have a few minutes tae yerself and make peace wi’ yer maker, while I go out and get you a selection of good chibs and your body bag!’
‘My body bag? Did you just say my body bag?’
‘Don’t be daft. Ah said your body vest! As in your favourite Tartan Army top, personally autographed by Sir Furious. Ye know, you’re a dead ringer for Mel Gibson in it!’
‘Dae ye think so?’ Davie asked.
‘No’ really, but at this moment in time, it’s nice tae be nice, and any old excuse goes down well!’ replied Brian.
During all this time, Ga-Ga-Ga-reth had been marching up and down in the hot midday sun, kitted out in all the latest sports gear from the Littlewoods catalogue, as modeled by Trinny and Susannah. He was spouting all kinds of threats of abuse in order for them to hurry up and decide who was coming out to face him and get chibbed in the process.
Time was getting on and he wanted to have it over and done with quickly, so that he could be back home with his feet up before the start of the new series of CSI Miami started on Channel Five.
In the meantime, Brian was cleaning Davie’s new Nike trainers and ironing his Umbro joggies, in order to make him look presentable for his parents when they were summoned to the city mortuary to identify his body.
Davie was kneeling down and making peace with the Lord. As he did so, he picked up a large prayer book, lying on a table in the Lastrites’ makeshift HQ tent, and began to read passages from it, slowly turning the pages, desperately seeking some kind of inspiration.
He spoke loudly the words of his prayer:
‘Lord! Ah’d just like tae say I’m sorry for using the occasional swear word, sometimes ah just cannae help myself.
‘Oh, and that incident the other night, when that sheep was looking over the edge o’ the hill, ah hold my hands up! Ah was genuinely taking a piss and when I looked over and saw it, I thought it was going tae jump, or I would never have rushed over tae rescue it.
‘And it was also a total surprise tae me, and a pure coincidence, that I just happened tae be standing right behind it when it decided tae back itself up and onto me, ah swear!
‘Crikey! There I go again, swearing!
‘But ah just wanted ye tae know that it was a genuine accident, and I certainly don’t make a habit of it, and even if I did, ah definitely wouldn’t have picked a ram for my first conquest, that’s for sure.’
He then paused for a moment, deep in thought.
‘Oh, and another thing, Lord. If I get through this square-go wi’ Gareth, and I’m still in one piece, can ye have a wee look at rewarding me as well, ‘cause I think when I was getting circumcised, the Rabbi, bless him, didn’t have his proper reading glasses with him, and as a result, he cut off a bit more than he should have, and now I’m lagging a good two tae three inches behind my brothers Eli and Abie.
‘Ah know they say size isn’t everything, but them that say it are just a bunch o’ lying basterts, who you’ll find are all well endowed wi’ more than their fair share and don’t want any extra competition!
‘Lord, you’ve helped me before, when ye gave me the strength I needed to see off that big lion that attacked the flock and tried tae kill some o’ the sheep. Ah managed tae fight it off and save them …
‘And there was the other time, when yon big bear came calling and grabbed a ewe. Ah wrestled wi’ it and managed tae get it tae release its grip …
‘Ah know ye were there wi’ me, giving me your support to carry out these deeds, but, Lord, this is totally different here.
‘This big evil bastert is pure mental and has got a heart o’ a lion and the height, weight and strength of a grizzly bear. Oh, and did I mention that he was a complete and utter maniac, who gives me nightmares just thinking about him? You don’t know whit he’s capable of.’
Davie paused for a moment to compose himself.
‘Look! I’ll tell ye what, Lord.
‘First and foremost, see if ye could maybe help me out again this time wi’ a wee bit o’ handers, like striking him down wi’ a massive heart attack, or maybe even a severe stroke down the one side, just enough tae paralyse him, so that he qualifies for disability benefits. It would be very much appreciated, and wi’ regards tae my other requests …
‘Ah would settle for a penis pump!’
Davie was interrupted by the return of an excited Brian.
‘Check out this lot, Davie boy. I’ve only went and got you the latest in stab vests, and a sponsorship deal for the day wi’ Adidas! Oh, and sign yer name at the bottom o’ this piece o’ paper.’
That said, he handed Davie a pen.
‘What is this for?’ Davie asked.
‘It’s just a form tae say that I’m your next of kin!’
‘Piss off, Brian. I don’t need any of this.’
‘Excuse me, Davie boy, but believe me, ye frigging do. I’ve just seen the big man over there at his press conference, and he’s well tooled up and itching tae get started.
‘He’s got more steak knives in his waist band than Galloway the butchers! So believe me, son, ye need it! So sign there.’
He then paused for a moment, before adding, ‘Mind you, instead of asking for forgiveness, you could have asked the Lord for the return of Frankie Vaughan, with the suggestion of another knife amnesty in Glasgow!’
Brian lifted up the stab vest.
‘Here, let me help you with this. It’ll protect ye a wee bit.’
Davie shrugged him away and said, ‘There’s no need, Brian. The Lord is going to protect me, and has provided for me.’
‘Look, Davie boy, I admire your faith, but I have two words for you to consider: “Jesus” and a very big “Cross”!’
‘I have complete faith in the Lord,’ Davie stoutly replied.
‘Can I just remind you: so did his only son.’
There was silence as Brian stepped back and looked at Davie.
‘Were you smoking that wacky baccy while I was away?’
‘Don’t be daft … Nae matches!’
Brian sat down, produced a bottle of Buckfast wine from his pocket and poured out a glass. On seeing it, Davie backed off.
‘And don’t pour me any of that, either. Ah don’t need it.’
‘That’s not for you. It’s for me; ah need it. Ah’m running about there like a blue-arsed fly, trying tae dae some last-minute deals for us wi’ Max Clifford, Hello! and Anderson Maguire!’
‘Anderson Maguire. Who’s that?’ Davie asked.
‘Some funeral parlour where the family come first. Except in your case!’ Brian replied.
‘Well, ye can cancel that one, ‘cause this isn’t happening!’
They both paused for a moment to reconsider. Brian said, ‘So is this all the thanks I get from a mate who’s about to depart this world? Ah just don’t understand you, Davie boy!’
‘Ye don’t understand me, Brian, ‘cause ye don’t listen. I’ve told you, the Lord has shown me the way; he will protect me and he has provided for me.’
All the time, Davie was holding on tightly to his prayer book.
‘With what, Davie boy, the words in a book? So you
’re gonnae walk right up tae him and read him a story? Ah can just see it now!
‘Excuse me a minute, Gareth, but before ye separate my head from my body, can I maybe read you a chapter from the new Harry Potter book?
‘That will really hit him hard. The poor bugger will be trembling in his Jesus sandals.
‘Look, Davie! Let me phone over tae Glesca Airport and recruit John Smeaton and a few of the baggage handlers tae come over and give ye handers!’
Davie boy shook his head and looked at Brian condescendingly.
‘No, Brian! I’ve told you repeatedly. The Lord has given me the necessary tool to beat Gareth. He’ll not be getting close enough for me tae read him anything …’
‘Awright, Davie boy! So is this the part in the story where ye suddenly produce your slingshot and stone?’
At that, Davie put his hand into the prayer book and produced a very large pistol from inside the book covers. He waved it in front of Brian and said, ‘No, Brian! This is the part in the story where I suddenly produce the most powerful handgun in the world, as in this big bloody 44 Magnum that some fly bugger was hiding in the good book.’
Hasta la vista … Baby!
The R.U.C. love their Guinness
While the Metropolitan love a tot
But we’re the Glesca Polis Force
And we drink the bloody lot!!!
Harry Says, ‘Share With Me!’
…
Former police officer Harry Morris, author of the popular Harry the Polis series of books, is planning to publish book number seven of his funny short polis stories:
Harry the Polis, Up Tae My Neck In Paperwork!
He would like to extend an invitation to all serving and retired polis, along with all FSO staff, to contribute a story to future publications and allow the popular, hilarious series to continue.
Stories must be of a humorous nature and can even be a short scenario of an incident that you would like the author to expand upon. (All names will be changed to protect the guilty.)
We are all very much aware of the seriousness and important side of the job, when serving the public. That’s why the humour we enjoy in our duties is a very important feature to our work.
So why not share it with your colleagues and the public by giving everyone a laugh, as opposed to reading about horrific day-to-day crimes that we see daily in the press that are forced upon us.
Just send stories, poems, anecdotes, jokes or tales to: [email protected] or
visit the website at www.harrythepolis.com
The author will be sure to credit you with your submission. However, if you wish to remain anonymous, this will also be respected by the author. The main objective is not to make fun of the police force, but to write about the humour we all enjoy and contribute to within it.
So why don’t you start writing and let me hear from you? We all have a funny story we have been involved with, why not share it?
Thank you
…
I hope you enjoyed reading this book of stories in the Harry the Polis series as much as I enjoyed writing it.
To all my former colleagues, past, present and future police officers, I would say: if you can’t laugh at yourselves, then leave the job to others.
Also available from Harry the Polis:
Even the Lies Are True
Even More Lies
Nuthin’ Like the Truth
Ye’re Never Gonnae Believe It!
Aye, That Will Be Right!
Look Who’s Up For A Blether (AUDIO PERFORMANCE)
Copyright
…
First published 2008
by Black & White Publishing Ltd
29 Ocean Drive, Edinburgh EH6 6JL
www.blackandwhitepublishing.com
This electronic edition published in 2012
ISBN: 978 1 84502 572 4 in EPub format
ISBN: 978 1 84502 573 1 in Mobi pocket format
ISBN: 978 1 84502 232 7 in paperback format
Copyright © Harry Morris 2008
The right of Harry Morris to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Ebook compilation by RefineCatch Ltd, Bungay
