by Harry Morris
• • •
This book dedication is long overdue.
Dedicated to Marion Davren
(Love ya my babes!)
• • •
Memories Won't Leave Me
• • •
The call went out and I raced to the scene
Another RTA where a drunk driver had been.
A girl was bleeding from a cut in her head
Her mother was trapped, appeared to be dead.
Out of nowhere he came with headlights full
Ignoring the stop signs and the red light rule.
He collided full on with their oncoming car
Discarding metal and glass all over the tar.
The fuel flowing freely was a terrifying sight
Within minutes of seeing it, the car was alight.
Pulling the girl from the wreck I tried to return
But flames forced me back and I watched it burn.
Drunk driving was to blame for the loss of a life
This mother of three children and a loving wife.
She'll be laid to rest and he'll be sentenced to jail
But two families will suffer as a result of this tale.
For he also has a family, being a father of five
But neglected them all, to drink and drive!
Someone once told me:
‘You don't stop laughing because you grow old.
You actually grow old because you've stopped laughing!’
Well start laughing now! Let's see if we can reverse the ageing process.
Acknowledgements
• • •
Harry Morris would like to extend his sincere appreciation to Peter Conoboy, Alec Craig, Ian Taylor, Tom Palmer, Robert Bell, John Baird and all those uniformed senior officers who just wish to remain anonymous (in case it affects their future promotion prospects). Your contributions were appreciated, so I hope I did them justice.
A special thank you to everyone at Black & White Publishing, without whose help and support I would have been committed long ago
Contents
• • •
Title Page
Dedication
Memories Won't Leave Me
Acknowledgements
Introduction
PART ONE
Half-Mast Troosers
Semper Vigilo
Post Office Pusher
Pole Vaulter
Number-One Idiot
Name That Chib?
Gorbals Cross!
Sex, Glesca Style
True Love
The Untouchables
Quick Wit!
Spiritual Guidance
Choke!
The Showroom
Credible Witness
Jelly Babies
Mind the Gap (Bag)
Bully For You!
London Train Announcers
Español Por Favor
One More!
Happy Retirement
Gimme Shelter
Plane Crash
Tom, Dick and Harry
Number-Two Idiot
Or What?
The Auld Enemy
That's About Right!
Medicine Man
PART TWO
Well! You Did Ask!
Wet Ones
Betty and Isa
Mistaken Identity
Get Ahead!
Police Hearing!
Police Protection
Donnie Tales
Having A Bad Day
That Was The Start
The Bunny Boiler
Silence That Man!
Question and Answer
Judge Judy
Flying
Depressed
Shopping At Morrisons
Bloody Cheek
Car Boot Sale
Training School
Do What She Says!
Dose of Claim-itis!
Rambo Granny!
Daktari
Anniversary
Where Are You?
Hookers Feel The Pinch!
PART THREE
Glesca Family Planning
Room Service
I A*** You!
Police Exams
An Expert Witness
Number-Three Idiot
The Glesca Gangster
Mini Minors
Porta Potty Time!
Oh To Be Twelve Again
Harry's Polis News
The Thriller!
Children In Need
Next!
Ohhh Donna!
Free Sex Competition
The Panda Car
Wee Jock, Big Fight!
The Garden Plot
PART FOUR
OAP Femme Fatal
Glesca Euthanasia
Exposed
Practical Jokers
Theology
Genuine Fake
Lucky White Heather
The Hypnotist
A Glesca Cracker
Dope Story
Earls Court Road
Fire and Brimstone
Fishing Weekend
Number-Four Idiot
Choking
Half Past Four
Jury Duty Excuse
Breaking News
Dumb! Dumb!
What A Load …
Car Trouble
The Loving Husband
Dr Feelgood
The Car Boot
What's In A Name?
PART FIVE
Bogus Grannies
The Milky Way
London Underground
No Complaint
Organic Health Drinks
Always Say Thank You
Don't Say It!
They're Coming …
The Alarm Clock
The Golf Outing
Big Broon!
The Police Marksman
Damn Lies
Naughty Neighbours
PART SIX
Driving By Braille
The Moon Walk
Dangerous Waters
Donnie The Undertaker
Game On
True Crime
Did I Hear Right?
Mistaken ID
Glesca Weans!
Harry's Classified Ads
Lost In Translation
The Meaning Of AH
Sheep Shagging Mystery
The Honeymoon
PART SEVEN
Family Reunion
Wife Tells All!
Reg McKay Tribute
The Origin Of Names
And Finally …
Share With Me
Thank You
Contact Details
By the Same Author
Copyright
Introduction
• • •
I'm constantly asked the same questions by friends, acquaintances and ex-colleagues: ‘Don't you miss the police force, Harry? The harmony, the camaraderie, the laughs with the guys on the shift, the buzz of excitement you feel in your stomach when you're involved in a good bust, culminating with the bad guys getting charged and locked up in a cell?’
My answer to this is always the same. That part of my life has gone; I'm retired from it and you have to move on to the next chapter in your life.
So, as an author with several books published by Black & White, I'm thoroughly enjoying life in my new career.
Here is another collection of my short stories, jokes, anecdotes, tales (and lies) about life. They are not to be taken seriously, but intended to entertain, make you reminisce and bring a smile to your face.
My ‘Harry the Polis’ series of books is designed to jog your memory, make you laugh and relate a funny story, joke or anecdote to someone who needs to stretch their laug
hter lines!
Let's face it, we all know some poor bugger who needs a wee laugh now and again! So remember:
‘LAUGHTER: THE BEST MEDICINE TO TAKE!’
And best of all, you can never overdose on it either.
Harry
Half-Mast Troosers
• • •
You've probably noticed in passing the latest trend of the younger men in our society, who wear their denim jeans at half mast, with the rear pockets level with the bend in their knees.
Personally, I think it is one of the most ridiculous styles I've seen. Call me old-fashioned, but that's just my opinion.
Therefore, I was absolutely delighted to be informed of an incident whereby the low wearing of denims was instrumental in the commission of a crime.
It appears a young police officer, off to meet up with some other young cops for a night out up the city centre, stopped off to use cash machine to get some money.
As he shuffled over to it, with his jeans hanging at half mast, he withdrew his wallet and inserted his bank card, not forgetting to look around before entering his PIN number.
Just as he did so, he looked around to see another young male walk up and queue directly behind him.
Turning back to the cash machine, his bank card was returned followed by his cash request. He took possession of his card and was reaching over to collect his money when … whoosh!
The male behind him grabbed hold of his back pockets and promptly pulled his jeans down to his ankles.
In an instant, his immediate reaction was to crouch down, grab hold of his jeans to pull them back up, at which point the male culprit behind him calmly reached over, took the £100 cash from the dispenser and ran off.
Totally embarrassed and still trying to adjust his jeans, by the time he realised what had happened, the suspect male had disappeared down the nearest lane, out of sight!
Not wanting to report the incident due to the embarrassment he had suffered, he discreetly informed a few of his colleagues … Who in turn, discreetly told me … And you!
Semper Vigilo
• • •
Big Hugh Rankin was a crew member of the Semper Vigilo police boat. One day they had all enjoyed a lengthy liquid lunch, after which Hugh asked the Sergeant, George Ewart, ‘Here, George, why do scuba divers always fall backwards off their boats into the water?’
To which George replied, ‘Simple, Hughie! If they were to fall forwards, they'd still be in the fuckin’ boat! Wouldn't they?’
Post Office Pusher
• • •
It was the usual Wednesday afternoon for me as I collected wee Flora, my elderly mother, and took her for some lunch prior to doing a bit of household shopping.
En route, I stopped off at the post office to collect her pension money and pay a few of her bills.
As I stood in the queue behind what I can only describe as two absolute cretins, I couldn't help but listen in on their conversation. Particularly as they weren't exactly whispering!
‘Ah rattled two bottles o’ Buckie last night masel’, and I don't even have a hangover … not one bit! Wicked or whit?’
‘Totally amazing, man. You're a star!’ replied the younger one, appearing in awe of this great feat.
He maybe didn't have a hangover, but his breath smelled strongly of a dog's toley … And he thought it was pork and herb links he was eating for dinner!
That's a woman for you – take a wee bit too much drink and they take advantage by feeding you any old thing! My own personal weakness is Pedigree Chum and mashed potatoes. Don't laugh, I'm serious. Try some!
Anyways, he continued bragging to the young guy.
‘That's fuck all, man. Got stopped wi’ two big pandas in a paddy wagon the day. A thought tae masel’, ‘Uh! Uh! Jamesy boy, you better play it cool here and act neutral.’
‘Ye mean natural!’ said the young guy, correcting him.
‘Same thing, big man!’ Jamesy responded. ‘The filth walked right up tae my windae and asked me a couple o’ easy ones, then he rapidly backed aff and nearly got hit by another motor. Next thing ah know, they're intae their paddy wagon and driving aff up the road. Nae explanation why! Stupit buggers didnae even smell the Buckie aff my breath.
‘Ah genuinely thought ah was a certainty tae be spending the next few days in C Block, man, it was pure mental! Know?’
They couldn't smell the Buckie off his breath because it was masked with another smell, as in doggie doo-doo, or maybe a soggy chapatti from the wean's nappy!
Mind you, some o’ that stuff that gets dumped in a newborn's nappy could easily be mistaken for a Chic Murray, especially that creamy korma stuff.
‘Whit is that smell, man?’ asked the young guy.
‘Is it that bad?’ Jamesy asked, slightly concerned.
‘Totally, man. It's bowfin! Totally bowfin!’
They both stood in silence for a few moments, with the Buckie drinker Jamesy cupping his hand and breathing into it then trying to smell it at the same time. All very discreetly, of course, and totally unseen by everybody … Except for every one of the thirteen or fourteen customers standing in the post office queue.
Suddenly, he thrust his other hand up to the young guy's face. ‘Here, smell that, big man. Whit do you think that is?’
The young guy sniffed his hand, pulled his head back and said, ‘The haun ye wiped yer big jazz drum with!’
Jamesy looked down at his hand, then said, ‘Sorry, big man, wrang haun, smell this one!’
He held up his other hand and presented it in front of his face.
‘Skunk?’ responded the younger one.
Jamesy nodded his head. ‘Correcto! Only the best! I'm growing it masel'!’
‘How many plants have ye got?’ he asked.
‘Sixteen! Ah had twenty-two, but I couldnae wait for it tae grow, had to try some o’ it, so I rolled a few joints … Even smoked the stock. I'm just finished watering them there the noo afore ah came here.’
‘Sixteen skunk plants? You're a right wee Howard Marks. Growing your own dope in your own wee Mosspark plantation!’
‘That's me by the way, an’ know whit? They're growing like fucking weeds man, they're massive!’
They both looked at each other and as the penny dropped they both laughed out loud.
‘They're growing like weeds – that's a good yin, Jamesy!’
Jamesy then looked around at me standing behind him and slowly stopped laughing, then, turning to face the young guy, he said, ‘Turn it down a bit big man. Don't tell everybody in Glesca!’ Then he muttered in a loud whisper, ‘The big man behind us just might be the filth, so keep it down tae a Hampden roar. By the way, I just might be looking for a business partner, somebody like yourself wi’ a few bob behind them.’ He then nodded, tapped his nose and winked his eye. ‘There could be an opening for you!’
‘Let me weigh that up, the head gardener in the Mosspark High Flats Garden Centre, against an offer of a steady job in Ronald MacDonald's cultivating Big Macs and quarter pounders … Big decision. A career-changing decision there. I'm afraid I'm gonnae need a bit o’ time to think about it!’
‘Not a problem, big man, not a problem. Take your time. You'll always get me most days hanging about the Morrisons cafeteria. Spreading the word and taking advanced orders for the big harvesting day.’
‘I'd have thought you would be more at home hanging about the organic salad section with the parsley, mint and coriander,’ said the young bloke.
Just at that the post office teller interrupted them. ‘Next!’
‘That's you, Jamesy. It's your turn tae flash your cash card!’
Jamesy moved forward to the counter to be served. After he was finished and about to leave, the younger bloke remarked subtly, ‘Is that you away back up to the Beechgrove Gardens to do a wee bit o’ weeding then, Mr Nice?’
‘You've got tae, man. There's money tae be made, got tae check on my future!’ he replied seriously. ‘It only takes one o’ yon l
eaves tae touch the heat lamps and – puff – it could all go up in smoke!’
This remark prompted another outburst of impromptu laughter.
‘See ye later, Jamesy boy!’
Pole Vaulter
• • •
A young promoted uniform police sergeant was transferred to ‘A’ Division in the city centre of Glasgow.
It was nearing the end of his night shift one day as he walked along St Enoch Square, enjoying the quiet and peaceful silence of an early morning stroll, minus the shoppers.
Suddenly, the police Land Rover ‘tractor’, which could reach 0–60 mph in twelve minutes, flat out, going downhill with a strong following wind, and fitted with go-faster radial tyres, could be heard screeching its way down nearby Union Street as it pursued a stolen car with three male occupants.
As the police Land Rover gave chase, details of the suspects were broadcast over the radio, with a request for assistance.
Just when it turned into the St Enoch Square, one of the front wheels came off the stolen car and it came to a sudden stop, whereby all the neds bailed out, running off in different directions.
Being present within the square, the young sergeant gave chase and apprehended one of the culprits outside the old Daily Record offices, whereby he hand-cuffed the ned to a nearby lamp-post and informed the staff to watch him, while he continued with the search for the others.
After a short search came up with no trace of the others involved, the crew from the Land Rover met up with the young sergeant and conveyed him back to the locus where he stated he had restrained one of the accused, hand-cuffed to a lamp-post.
However, during the sergeant's absence, the accused had apparently scaled the tall swan-neck lamp-post like a monkey up a coconut tree, and slipped the cuffs over the top, before sliding back down to the pavement and running off, along with the police-issue hand-cuffs, never to be seen again.
Number-One Idiot
• • •
This is a brief but true scenario from a medical student who is currently working a shift rotation system in the toxicology department at the poison control centre.
Today, a woman called in very upset because she discovered her little daughter was eating live ants.
The student quickly reassured her that the ants she had swallowed were not harmful and there would be no need to bring her daughter into the A & E department of the hospital.
