There's Been a Murder!
Page 13
Shocked by this news, the son called his sister, who exploded over the phone. ‘Like hell they're getting divorced!’ she bawled. ‘You just leave this to me!’
She quickly got on the phone to Glasgow and screamed at her father, ‘You are NOT getting divorced. So don't you dare do a single thing until I get there. I'm coming up to Glasgow along with Jack, and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then, just wait for us and don't do anything silly. Do you hear what I'm saying, Dad?’
‘I hear you, hen!’ he replied.
At that, she hung up the phone.
The Glesca punter replaced his phone, turned to his wife and said, ‘That's it arranged, hen! They're both travelling up for Christmas, and they're paying for it themselves for a change!’
Wife Tells All!
• • •
While engaged in motorway patrol duty, I pulled over a speeding car onto the hard shoulder.
I approached the car and said to the driver, ‘I've just clocked you driving at ninety miles per hour.’
The driver replied, ‘I'm very sorry, Officer, but it's a new car and I'm using the cruise control. I'm positive I set it at sixty. Maybe your radar equipment needs to be checked!’
At that, his wife in the passenger seat said, ‘Now, now, darling, don't be silly, you know fine well that this new car doesn't have cruise control.’
On hearing this, I wrote out the speed ticket and handed it to the driver, who looked over at his wife and said, ‘For once, when I'm talking, can you please keep your big mouth shut?’
The wife smiled demurely and said, ‘You should just be thankful that your radar detector went off when it did, or you would be getting charged for driving even faster.’
That said, I wrote out a second ticket for him having an illegal radar detector fitted to the car.
As I handed it over, the driver glowered at his wife and said through clenched teeth, ‘Dammit, woman, can you not keep your big trap shut?’
Just then, I realised he wasn't wearing his safety belt and said, ‘I've just noticed that you're not wearing a seat belt either, sir. That's another automatic fixed penalty fine.’
The driver then said, ‘Well, Officer, I did have it on, but took it off when you pulled me over so that I could get my driving licence out of my back pocket!’
The wife piped up, ‘Now, now, dear, you know fine well you didn't have your seat belt on. In fact, if truth be known, you never wear your seat belt when you're driving!’
This prompted me to consider issuing another penalty ticket, when the driver turned to his wife and growled, ‘Why don't you just keep your mouth shut, you interfering old cow?’ I looked over at the woman passenger and asked, ‘Does he always talk to you like this, hen?’
To which she replied, ‘Not normally, Officer. Only when he's drank too much whisky.’
Reg McKay Tribute
• • •
The last time I had lunch with my friend and fellow author Reg McKay in the Rogano, Exchange Place, we were having a laugh and I said, ‘I picked up your latest book the other day – couldn't put it down.’
Before I could deliver the punchline, he reacted first. ‘Don't tell me they're still putting superglue on the book covers!’
Not only one of Scotland's great crime writers, he was also a very quick witted and funny guy.
However, my favourite story about Reg McKay was nothing to do with his best-selling crime books, but an impromptu comment that came from Reg himself and was related to me by his good friend Tony Higgins during the funeral service.
Apparently while walking around Barshaw Park in Paisley together, Reg announced, in between cigarettes, that since the news about his terminal illness had been made public, he had been inundated with numerous offers from publishers for any forthcoming books he was writing.
‘D'you know, Tony,’ he'd said, ‘I've had that many offers in the past few weeks, I wish tae fuck I had announced I was dying two years ago!’
That was the measure of the man, that he could see humour in his own tragic circumstances and make light of it.
RIP Reg McKay.
The Origin of Names
• • •
I suppose it was a celebrity thing a while back, but the HOW and the WHY only came to light recently, when one of them broke the silence and decided to explain the reasoning behind it.
The Beckhams started the trend when they named their first-born child Brooklyn, stating it was the place where he was conceived. If that is true, thank goodness they didn't decide on a dirty weekend in Peckham!
This was followed up with wee brother Cruz. I think they were aboard the Love Boat cruise ship when they came up with that one! And by the way, this was BTC … Before Tom Cruise!
A dangerous precedent to start, I think. Just ask Broom Cupboard Becker! (Boris's love child) and Daylight Robbery (that's a joke, his real name was Bank!), Ronald Biggs’ nephew.
We also have the video exhibitionist Paris Hilton, possibly conceived in the Hilton Paris (just a rough guess); Chelsea Clinton (old Bill gets about) and Mercedes Ruehl (whose father was an FBI agent who lived out of his car, allegedly).
Here's a thought – what about Madonna's daughter Lourdes? How did that one come about? I'm not even going to go there.
Others have included River Phoenix (a water baby, no doubt), Minnie Driver (father's name Lawrie perhaps?), Blanket Jackson (I think that was just a big cover-up, Michael!) and just to show he wasn't the only Jackson who was a few sandwiches short of a picnic, his brother Jermaine named his wean Jermajesty. Nutty or what?
Then there's Rumer Willis (no truth in that one then?) and Noel Gallagher (conceived at Christmas! I think if they'd named him Santa, it would have helped his career big time!)
You need to ask yourself, ‘Where did this lot come from?’ They must have been high on drugs. I mean, Whoopi Goldberg, Fifi Trixibelle Geldof, Zowie Bowie and big Tam the Bam (a popular choice of name for a Glesca punter from Govan).
The more I look into this, the worse it gets. Step forward the classic Moon Unit and his sister Diva Thin Muffin, the offspring of Frank Zappa! Frank? What the hell were you taking when you named these two wee souls? Yer heid must have been puggled!
I wonder if Diva Muffin is any relation to Dunkin Donuts?
And we have to mention Bono and the Edge from U2. They both assumed these weird stage names, but why lumber their kids with Memphis Eve and Blue Angel respectively?
Sounds like a right heavy cocktail hour if you ask me.
Personally, I'd blame burst condoms. No, that's not another name, it's a product that failed their amorous fathers at a very specific time.
Actor Forest Whitaker came up with the name Ocean for his son. This was apparently a spontaneous outburst when he was present at his wife's side, at the exact moment her waters broke. Splassshhhh!
No sooner are you getting used to this lot, when along comes the Naked Chef himself, Jamie Oliver and his offspring, Poppy, Daisy, followed by the latest addition, Blossom Petal. All blooming girls, pardon the pun, and all conceived in a big flower bed, no doubt.
What next? Pansy, Peat and the unplanned Dandy Lion! You don't need a nursery for this lot. You need a garden centre!
Come to think of it, maybe they were all conceived on a visit to B&Q! Pure ‘pukka’, Jamie boy!
Maybe the Native American had a big influence over how they went about picking names.
Apparently, they decided to name their children according to the first thing they saw immediately after the baby was born.
I mean to say, they had some right belters as well. Crazy Horse, Full Moon, White Cloud and the triplets, Running Water, Running Bear and Big Brown Bear. If there had been quads, they might have named the fourth one Running Away From Big Brown Bear!
And there are also the sisters, or squaws, born into the tribe, like Blue Moon, Bright Sky and the ones they don't talk about: Pissing With Rain, Passing Wind, and Dog Poo!
I reckon that even old Desmond Tutu came
from a long line of ballet dancers! What do you think?
The Celts are not averse to doing something similar. I was over in Ireland recently and was introduced to Pat McGroin (a physiotherapist), Phil McAvity (went on to sell wall insulation), and Finbarrack O'Bamma. Oh, and not forgetting those well-known Irish barbers, Tom O'Hawk and Kurt M'hair!
Gone are the traditional hand-me-down family names like Thomas, Archibald, William, Robert, Isobel, Elizabeth and Josephine, which we all took great delight in shortening to Tam, Archie, Willie, Rab, Bel, Liz and Josie.
Even my own mother-in-law was christened Annie, but throughout her entire childhood and adult life, her parents, close relatives and friends called her May.
Why not just name her May to start with, like when you filled out her birth certificate? Mind you, bearing this in mind, everyone would probably have called her Annie!
And now, we have this ridiculous trend of ‘crackpot’ names escalating, where every single parent in a Glesca housing scheme has decided to follow suit.
‘Let's no’ name her jist yet, doll, finish aff yer glass o’ voddie and we'll smoke anither spliff first. Clear oor minds! Then we'll pick a right trendy, gallus name she'll be proud of.’
Only the other day I heard a young mother call out to her little girl, loud and clear, ‘Princess Govan of the Cross McGinty! You get yer arse o'er here pronto, or else!’
Or else what? You'll hit her with a right stupid name?
Personally, I'm looking out for Blyth Wood (the prostitute's favourite), Garth Amlock (from the housing schemes), Fergus Lee-Park (an Asian immigrant born in Paisley), Chic Currie (a popular Glesca/Asian name), and Ford Van-Transit (his mammy gave birth to him on her way back from Amsterdam).
I suppose if we think about it, it could've started with the first test-tube babies!
Anybody know a Pyrex Bowles? Or a Tippi Tupperware?
What about the artificial insemination twins, Sperm and Donna?
The Scottish Siamese twins, Oor Wullie and Oor Boaby. As for me and all your fancy names, I still prefer the old favourite Glesca term of endearment when drunk, wi’ a doner kebab in one's hand: ‘Ur ye awright there, my wee China?’
And Finally
• • •
Having suffered from depression for several months after an unfortunate accident, whereby a man had to have his arm amputated from above his elbow, he decided he'd had enough of being unable to hug his wife, tie his shoe laces, use a knife and fork at the same time, and so on. He felt his life was over.
The following day, he made his way up to the Erskine Bridge and climbed over the barrier.
As he stood on the edge, preparing to throw himself off, his attention was drawn to a man with no arms, skipping along the road towards him.
He watched in disbelief as the armless man got closer, apparently laughing ecstatically to himself and dancing some kind of jig!
It made him think about how ungrateful he was to be feeling sorry for himself. Here was a man with no arms at all! At least he still had the use of one arm.
This appeared like a message to him that hit home to his conscience, prompting him to humbly ask, ‘You have no arms, so how come you appear to be extremely happy, laughing hysterically to yourself, while dancing a jig?’
To which the man with no arms loudly replied: ‘ITCHY ARSE!’
Harry Says, ‘Share With Me!’
• • •
Former Police Officer Harry Morris and now the author of the popular ‘Harry the Polis’ series of books is planning to publish book number nine in the series of funny short polis stories.
Harry the Polis: Glesca Polis at Their Best
He would like to extend an invitation to all serving and retired polis, along with all F.S.O. staff, to contribute a story to future publications and allow the popular 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 characters’ names will be changed.)
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 enjoyed in our everyday police duties was a very important feature of our work.
So why not share it with your colleagues and the public by giving everyone a laugh, as opposed to reading about the horrific day-to-day crimes that are reported daily in the press and forced upon us in the news. Everybody likes a right good laugh.
Just send either stories, poems, anecdotes, jokes or tales to:
harry@harrythepolis.com
Website: 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, but to write about the humour we all enjoyed.
So why not start writing and let me hear from you. We all have a funny story we've been involved in, so why not share it?
Every attempt is made to identify the author of any material submitted and used.
NEXT PUBLICATION IN THE SERIES: VOLUME 9
GLESCA POLIS AT THEIR BEST!
Thank You
• • •
Here's hoping you enjoyed perusing through another book of short stories in the latest ‘Harry the Polis’ series of light-hearted fun and laughter. As always, I have thoroughly enjoyed writing, editing and compiling these stories over the past years.
To all my friends and former colleagues, past, present and dead, coupled with those who are young, not so young, and who will sign on for a career as a future police officer, I would offer you my invaluable experience and advice.
At all times, try and use common sense when dealing with a particular incident and don't ever be afraid to show your compassion – and most of all, use your discretion. It's you who decides whether a warning will suffice in certain incidents.
Lastly, and most importantly, if you can't take a joke and laugh at yourself, then you should leave that particular job to others … especially me and my many readers, of course!
Contact Details
• • •
www.harrythepolis.com
harry@harrythepolis.com
Harry Morris, aka ‘Harry the Polis’, all-round good guy, is available for Stand-Up Humour, Storytelling, Babysitting, Guest Speaking, Airport Runs, and Script / Sketch Writing.
All enquiries to info@harrythepolis.com
Harry Morris is a member of the Society of Authors, a member of Equity and is also registered with the Scottish Book Trust for Live Literature Events and workshops.
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!
Ah Cannae Tell a Lie
Up Tae My Neck in Paperwork
Look Who's Up For A Blether
(DVD LIVE AUDIO PERFORMANCE)
Copyright
• • •
First published 2010
by Black & White Publishing Ltd
29 Ocean Drive, Edinburgh EH6 6JL
www.blackandwhitepublishing.com
This electronic edition published in 2014
ISBN: 978 1 84502 818 3 in EPub format
ISBN: 978 1 84502 304 1 in paperback format
Copyright © Harry Morris 2010
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
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Harry Morris, There's Been a Murder!