There's Been a Murder!

by Harry Morris

  ‘Naw! No’ a midget. A miniature wean … Ye know the kind! They're always wee scrawny things, God love them.’

  ‘Aw-right!’ I replied, starting to wind her up. ‘You mean the wean was a dwarf?’

  ‘Naw the wean's no’ a dwarf!’ she responded angrily.

  ‘It's a bloody miniature wean – ye know fine well whit ah mean!’

  I shook my head. ‘No, I don't know what you mean, Mam!’

  ‘Ye do so. A wean that didnae go the full distance!’

  Now, I knew exactly what she was trying to say, but I kept winding her up. ‘What full distance are you talking about? Where was it going to?’

  ‘It wisnae going anywhere. It's already arrived here early, hence the reason it wis a miniature wean,’ she replied angrily.

  At that, I felt I had to put her out of her misery before she blew a fuse, so I said, ‘I take it you mean the baby was born premature?’

  Quick as a flash, she responded, ‘That's it! It wis born premature … That's why it was a miniature!’

  Porta Potty Time!

  • • •

  When a local ned attempted to siphon fuel from a motor home parked in Strathclyde Park, he got more than he bargained for.

  The police arrived to find a very sick man, curled up next to a pool of spilled, mingin sewage.

  A police spokesman said that the man admitted trying to steal fuel, but he'd plugged his siphon hose into the motor home's sewage tank by mistake.

  The owner of the motor home declined to press charges, saying that it was the first time he'd heard of someone deliberately ‘taking the piss’!

  Oh, To Be Twelve Again

  • • •

  I was sitting on the edge of the bed one morning, observing my missus as she was looking at herself in the wardrobe mirror.

  Since her birthday was coming up, I asked her what she would like as a surprise.

  ‘I'd like to be twelve again!’ she replied, while still looking at herself in the mirror.

  A week later, on the morning of her birthday, I arose early, poured her a nice big bowl of Coco Pops, then fastened her into the car seat and drove her down to Strathclyde Park and paid her into the M&D theme park.

  What a day! I put her on every ride in the park: the Death Slide, the Corkscrew, the Wall of Fear, the Screaming Monster Roller Coaster and the Big Dipper. You name it, I put her on it.

  She even had pink candy floss and a heart-shaped lollipop.

  Six hours later we staggered out of the theme park. Her head was reeling and her stomach felt upside down.

  I then took her to Burger King where I ordered her a Kiddie Meal with extra fries followed by a large chocolate ice-cream decorated with Smarties.

  After she'd finished, I whisked her off to the cinema to watch the latest ‘Hanna Montana’ movie, with popcorn, a huge Coca Cola drink, and a hot dog, her favourite.

  What a fabulous day of fun and adventure!

  Finally, I drove her back home, carried her into the house where she collapsed, totally exhausted, onto our bed.

  I leaned over her with a big smile on my face and lovingly asked, ‘Well, darling, how did it feel to be twelve again?’

  As she slowly opened her eyes, her facial expression suddenly changed and she said, ‘I meant my dress size, you retard!’

  Harry's Polis News

  • • •

  Police in Manchester have revealed that a woman has been arrested for shoplifting. Apparently she was found to have nicked a ten-inch salami sausage from a deli and concealed it down her knickers.

  When asked to explain her actions, she replied it was because she was missing her Italian boyfriend, Romeo.

  Aye right!

  The Irish police are being handicapped in a search for a stolen van because they cannot issue a description of it.

  Apparently it is a Special Branch vehicle and they don't want members of the public to know what it looks like!

  So apparently, if you see it somewhere, you should keep its whereabouts to yourself.

  Sounds like another old Irish joke … But it's true!

  The Thriller!

  • • •

  Like every other workplace up and down the country, the big topic of conversation first thing every day before starting your shift is what a great book we have recently read, or film we have just watched.

  I have to confess to being more of a viewer than a reader, as I have difficulty concentrating on the chapters in a book and find it easier to watch the action materialise on the screen.

  During the shift muster, prior to being detailed our police duties, there was always someone who had read or watched something that should not be missed by the rest of the shift, and to reinforce his views on this, he would proceed to outline the storyline for us, prompting our interest in it, without giving away the entire plot, like a budding Barry Norman or Jonathan Ross!

  It wasn't unusual to have several books with a page turned down marking the spot where the reader had left off, peppered around the office area, particularly in the rest rooms, where the on-duty shift would spend their forty-five-minute refreshment period totally engrossed in the latest chapter.

  Not being an avid reader as explained, this was not my scene, as I preferred to hear someone describe the plot in detail, and preferably by someone who was good at telling a story and bringing it to life.

  However, when charged with running an office for a few years, I did take great delight in reading the last chapter of many a book being read by a shift member, who would be totally engrossed in the characters and thrilling storyline, and while in conversation with them, I would nonchalantly ‘spill the beans’ regarding the plot outcome and reveal, in all innocence (not!) the ending of the book to them, twist in the tale and all!

  Many of my colleagues would refer to me as being one without parents who were legally married, although others would consider it an innocent slip of the tongue.

  Suffice to say none of them ever suspected I had only ever read the last part of their book – the part where all was revealed and the plot unravelled – while it was left lying about. They preferred to believe I'd actually read the storyline in its entirety.

  I would very neatly and cleverly cut out the last or second-last page of the book which detailed the description in full of all the details pertaining to the plot and the clues to help solve it. Then, several weeks later, so that they wouldn't miss out, I would anonymously send the missing pages to them through the internal post!

  On one particular occasion two of the cops on my shift were discussing a film that one of them had just seen and was giving a video copy to the other to view with his recommendation.

  ‘You'll be glued to the screen, it's absolutely brilliant!’

  ‘So it's worth watching then?’ the other would ask.

  ‘Most definitely. There's a twist at the end, pure brilliant!’

  ‘So what's it called again?’

  ‘Presumed Innocent.’

  ‘Who's in it?’

  ‘Harrison Ford, Greta Scacchi, Brian Dennehy and Bonnie Bedelia. It's a smashing cast.’

  Just then, the cop lending the film was called away and the other cop walked over to where I was standing and was about to put it into his locker.

  ‘Good film, Tam?’ I asked.

  ‘Apparently it is, Harry. It's a suspense thriller with Harrison Ford called Presumed Innocent.’ He replied. ‘Have you seen it?’

  ‘Oh yes! Know the one, smashing film, great twist at the end,’ I said. ‘You'll never work it out.’

  As he closed his locker and was about to leave, I couldn't resist it and shouted after him, ‘By the way, Tam!’

  As he turned back round to face me, I blurted out in my best mischievous voice, ‘It was the wife!’

  Children in Need

  • • •

  A prominent QC was visited at his plush office by a volunteer from a children's charity organisation.

  The charity representative began the meet
ing by saying, ‘Our recent research shows that even though your annual income is in excess of £1.5 million, you don't give a penny to any charity. Wouldn't you like to give something back to your community by supporting our charitable work?’

  The QC thought for a minute and said, ‘Firstly, did your research also show you that my father is suffering from Alzheimer's and has accumulated huge private care nursing home bills that are far beyond his ability to pay?’

  Embarrassed, the children's charity representative responded, ‘Er … no, I didn't know that.’

  ‘Secondly,’ he said, ‘are you aware that my brother, a disabled Gulf War veteran, is totally blind and confined to a wheelchair, and due to his disability, he is unable to support his wife and three children?’

  The stunned representative began to stammer out an apology, but was cut off again.

  ‘Thirdly!’ continued the QC. ‘Did your recent research also show you that my sister's husband was involved in a fatal road accident, leaving her destitute with a heavy mortgage and five children under the age of ten years, one of whom is disabled and another who suffers from learning disabilities and has to have daily private tutors who charge her an absolute fortune in fees?’

  Now totally and utterly embarrassed, the representative said, ‘I'm so sorry, I had no idea.’

  At that the QC said, ‘Well, now you know. And if I didn't give any of my money to them, what the hell makes you think I'm going to give it to you?’

  Next!

  • • •

  When his .38 calibre hand gun failed to go off as he fired it at his intended victim during a hold-up, would-be gangster Jimmy ‘The Shooter’ Elliot did something that can only inspire wonder. He peered down the barrel of his gun and pulled the trigger again.

  Guess what? This time it worked perfectly. KAH-BOOM!

  Ohhh Donna!

  • • •

  The day finally arrived when policewomen were awarded equal pay. From then on they had to go out on uniform patrol in pairs.

  On Sunday late shift in the city centre, there were only a few drinking places open, usually hotels.

  Big Donna was a brand-new probationary constable straight out of Tulliallan Police College, and was being ‘puppy walked’ around the area by a senior policewoman when they received a call to assist with a large crowd leaving the Glassford Hotel.

  En-route to the call, they came upon a disturbance involving two men fighting in the roadway.

  They promptly took action and hand-cuffed the stand- up winner to the railings of a nearby public toilet.

  Big Donna joined in by pulling up her tight skirt to her waist and jumping onto the chest of the loser, grabbing hold of his arms and pinning him to the ground.

  On arrival of the police Land Rover, big Donna was screaming loudly, still on top of her accused, with her bare bum, black suspender belt and scanty panties fully exposed to the world, and with the accused male's head stuck between her buttocks.

  Assistance was given, and both parties were separated, however big Donna wanted her accused further charged with sexual assault.

  The accused was interviewed at the station where he stated, ‘I genuinely thought she had hurt herself with her screaming in pain like that … I was only trying to soothe her pain.’

  It was suggested to the accused that he plead guilty to the minor charge of a breach of the peace.

  A week later, big Donna was being given ‘private first- aid lessons’ in her apartment by her off-duty shift sergeant, when he suffered a sudden heart attack.

  An ambulance was called to attend and conveyed the sergeant to the hospital, completely naked – a new rule when learning first aid, I believe!

  Big Donna, the loyal colleague that she was, remained by his side and accompanied him in the ambulance.

  However, an anonymous caller contacted the off-duty shift sergeant's wife and informed her of his sudden illness.

  The wife's attendance at the hospital, unfortunately for him, just happened to coincide with the arrival of big Donna, who was returning to the hospital with his neatly folded uniform.

  ‘MEOUUWW!!’

  Free Sex Competition

  • • •

  An independent petrol station owner in the south side of Glasgow was trying different ways to entice car owners into his garage to increase fuel sales.

  As a result, he came up with the following idea and put up a large sign that read: ‘Win Free Sex With Every Tank Full of Petrol!’

  On seeing the sign, a local taxi driver pulled in, filled his tank up and asked for his free sex. The petrol station owner told him that he would pick a random raffle ticket from a bowl on his counter and if he picked one ending in a five, the taxi driver would get the offer of free sex. The proprietor picked out a raffle ticket, looked at it and said, ‘It's an eight. Close, but not close enough. Sorry, but you haven't won free sex this time.’

  A week later, the same taxi driver, along with his good friend and retired police officer, big Donnie Henderson, pulled in for another fill-up of petrol. After again filling up his tank, he asked for his free sex and the proprietor dipped his hand into the bowl filled with raffle tickets to pick out a number for him.

  This time the taxi driver's number was announced as a seven by the garage proprietor, who quickly crumpled it up and threw it away before saying, ‘Sorry, mate, you can't get into heaven with a number seven. It has to be a five to taste the honey from the hive. You were close, but I'm afraid there is no free sex this time. Do keep trying.’

  As they left the garage and were driving away, the taxi driver turned to big Donnie and said, ‘I think they bloody raffle tickets are rigged and he doesn't really give away free sex at all.’ To which big Donnie immediately responded, ‘Oh aye, he does. My wife won it twice last week and my daughter has won it once already this week!’

  The Panda Car

  • • •

  A police officer was walking his beat one day when he noticed a small boy nearby in a little blue and white checked toy car, done up like a police panda car.

  The boy was wearing a diced police helmet and his panda car was being pulled along by his two pet dogs.

  The police officer walked over to him for a closer look.

  ‘That sure is a nice police panda car you have there,’ the policeman said with admiration.

  ‘Thanks, Officer,’ the boy replied.

  The policeman looked a little closer and noticed that the boy had tied the front of the panda car to both his pet dogs’ testicles.

  ‘Excuse me, young man,’ the policeman now said, ‘I don't wish to tell you how to run your police panda car, but if you were to tie that rope around both your dogs’ collars, I think you'll find that you could go much faster.’ The little boy looked up at the policeman standing there staring back at him and replied, ‘With all due respect, Officer, you're probably right, but then I wouldn't have a siren.’

  Wee Jock, Big Fight!

  • • •

  Well I suppose it was bound to happen to wee Jock one day.

  There he was, casually walking along the road, nonchalantly lifting his leg and watering every lamppost he came across, when suddenly, Bronson, a Staffordshire bull terrier, appeared from nowhere and jumped him, grabbing him around the neck and throwing him about like a Beanie Baby.

  Taken totally by surprise, Jock had no chance, as Bronson waited for him to drop to the ground, before trapping him with his right paw and sinking his teeth into him several times in an attempt to rip his wee head clean off his body.

  Fortunately, Jock was able to duck and weave to avoid Bronson getting a complete grip of him, and then there was good fortune for Jock as a police panda car stopped and a young blonde policewoman got out and rushed to his assistance, smacking Bronson over the head with her PR24 truncheon and chasing him away from the scene, thereby avoiding any more injuries being sustained by Jock.

  Jock also tried to run off, before tripping up over his own legs and falling over in a heap –
albeit, a small heap!

  ‘Oh, you poor wee soul,’ she said, as she bent over to lift him up. ‘It's you, Jock, I recognise you now! Crikey, Jock, you're bleeding. Better get you to the nearest vet.’

  At that, she placed Jock into the passenger seat and conveyed him to the local vet for treatment to his cuts.

  ‘What happened to you then, Jock?’ the vet asked.

  ‘Ah got jumped!’

  ‘Can you identify your attacker?’ asked the vet.

  ‘Naw! Nae chance. He jumped me from behind. Ah didnae see it coming, but I'll tell ye this much, he definitely had a real death wish. The big bastard made me look like a real Charlie!’

  Unaware of all that had gone on before, I was in the house watching the TV when I heard a knock on the door.

  I got up from my seat to open it, and was surprised to see the young blonde policewoman standing there holding a rather pathetic-looking Jock, feeling very sorry for himself.

  ‘Is Jock your wee doggy?’ she asked.

  ‘Sort of,’ I said. ‘So what has he been up to now?’

  ‘He hasn't been up to anything. Poor wee thing was attacked and beaten up. He was bitten that badly he had to be treated by the vet and have some stitches inserted into his wounds!’

  ‘Is there a bill for all this?’ I asked, concerned for the cost.

  ‘No! Because I couldn't locate you earlier, I paid the bill for his treatment, so it's on me,’ she replied.

  At that she placed Jock down on the sofa and kissed the top of his head, while he whimpered like a puppy.

  ‘The wee darling! If it's alright with you, Harry, I'll pop back in tomorrow to see how he is?’

  ‘No problem, Officer, and thanks very much for bringing him home safely!’ I said, closing the door behind her.

  As I walked back into the lounge, Jock said, ‘Dae me a favour, Harry, open up a can o’ meat and chop it up for me?’

  I walked over and was about to open the meat for him, when I thought, ‘Wait a wee minute there, Jocky! Let's hear your version of what happened.’

  ‘Nothing! I swear, it was a totally unprovoked attack!’