Aye That Will Be Right Page 3
On seeing me do this, David immediately stopped talking and approached the office window where he could only watch from inside, suffering in silence, as I smiled and gave him a wave ‘goodbye’, before riding off on his motor-cycle, leaving him to deal with mine, still lying on the road!
The Password
• • •
My friend and computer wizard Tom McNulty was setting up my new website on my machine and asked what word I would like to use as my password to log on.
Jokingly, I suggested ‘penis’.
Without the slightest hesitation, Tom typed in the password and immediately burst out laughing as the computer replied, ‘Password rejected – not long enough’!
Dumb and Dumber 1
• • •
These are two short stories about two thick neds.
The first one came about when two police officers were about to leave the station on an inquiry and discovered their police car had been blocked in by a visitor’s car that just happened to have been reported stolen several days earlier.
The engine was still warm and the doors were locked.
They decided to go back into the front office and make inquiries.
Inside, there was only one person waiting to be seen and he was there to make inquiries about his brother, who was in custody.
So they decided to ask him: ‘Excuse me, mate, but how did you come here today?’
‘In a car. I parked it outside,’ he replied.
‘Is it a blue Ford Escort?’ they asked.
‘Aye, that’s it,’ he answered.
‘That’s a stolen vehicle, isn’t it?’ one officer asked.
‘Aye it is,’ he replied.
Guess what? He was able to see his brother sooner than he thought.
In person and in the same cell!
Dumb and Dumber 2
• • •
The second story concerns a ned who walked into a clothes shop wearing a pair of tracksuit trousers that he had stolen the previous week and set off the alarm, because he had forgotten to remove the security tag.
He was promptly apprehended by the security staff and the police were notified, who immediately recognised him for being the suspect responsible for an earlier theft at another shop, which had captured him on their CCTV cameras.
Order in the Court
• • •
True Stories from the Law Courts
DISTRICT ATTORNEY: Do you recall the exact time that you examined the body?
MEDICAL EXAMINER: My autopsy began at about 8.30 p.m.
DISTRICT ATTORNEY: And Mr Denton was dead at this time?
MEDICAL EXAMINER: No! He was sitting up on the table, wondering why I was doing an autopsy on him.
Solving yer Problems
• • •
I heard this joke years ago and thought I’d share it.
A wee Glesca punter walked into a pub and ordered up a large whisky and a pint of heavy beer.
The barman raised a glass up to the whisky optic on the gantry and pushed on it twice, before placing it in front of the punter. He then walked over to the taps and began to pour out his beer.
After he’d done this, the wee Glesca punter picked up the large whisky from the bar and promptly swallowed it down, following it up with the beer, as the barman stood watching and waiting to be paid.
Having downed both whisky and beer, he then apologised to the barman, saying, ‘I’m sorry aboot this, big man, but I’ve nae money oan me. Ah jist had tae have a drink tae settle mah nerves, Ah wis desperate! But, I’ll clean up for ye, or run an errand, or anything else ye might need, tae make up for the price o’ it?’
The barman looked at him and deliberated for a few moments before asking, ‘Anything?’
‘Anything, big man, you just name it!’ he replied.
‘Well, there’s a local hardman comes into the pub every Friday and puts a bit of pressure on me tae pay him protection money! Can ye dae anythin’ aboot that for me?’
‘Nae problem, big man. Jist leave him tae me, Ah’ve done a bit o’ boxing in the past, so I’ll punch his lights oot fur ye! Anything else I can do for you?’ he asked.
‘Aye!’ the barman said. ‘Can ye hear all that growling, snarling and barking?’
‘Aye. Whit is that?’ the punter asked.
‘I’ve got a big Rottweiler dog in the cellar and it has severe toothache, but nae bugger can get near it tae pull the tooth out. Can ye dae anythin’ aboot that?’
‘Nae problem, big man, jist leave it tae me!’ he said. ‘Noo! Is there anythin’ else?’
‘Aye! Last thing,’ he said. ‘My auld mother lives in the flat above the pub. My auld man died sixteen years ago when she was only sixty and she has never been intimate wi’ a man since. Tae put it another way, she’s absolutely gagging for it! Can ye dae somethin’ aboot her?’
‘Jist leave it tae me, big man. It’s not a problem!’
A few days later, the punter was sitting in the pub, when in walked the local hardman, to collect his protection money.
The wee punter jumped up from his seat and approached him, then, confronting him in the middle of the pub, he hit him with several body punches before landing a knockout uppercut punch to his chin.
He then grabbed hold of him by the arse and neck and promptly ran him straight out through the swing doors of the pub on to the footpath outside.
Turning to the barman, he shouted, ‘Right! Open the cellar door!’
At that, he quickly ran down the steps, whereby the cellar door was closed behind him.
Growling, barking and ferocious snarling was soon followed by terrible howling, yelping and very loud whimpering.
Suddenly the cellar door was thrown open and the wee punter appeared at the top of the stairs, covered in gooey slime, blood, loose dog fur, several claw scratches and a ripped shirt, before he blurted out, ‘Right, big man! Where’s the auld burd wi’ the toothache?’
Extreme Makeover
• • •
Having sustained a serious back injury whilst on duty, I was presented with the opportunity to visit the police convalescent home at Castlebrae in Auchterarder to receive some intensive physiotherapy treatment in order to assist my recovery.
Whilst there, I met some excellent characters from police forces all over the UK with similar injury problems.
Near the end of my stay, we all decided to go for a quiet, peaceful night out to a local hotel for a drink.
We all toddled along the road, with our visible limps, walking sticks and artificial limbs.
On our arrival at the hotel, we were afforded a large table at one corner of the hotel by the staff, in order to provide our party with some privacy and also separate us from their regular customers.
However, during the evening, three of the locals made the bold decision to invite themselves over to where we were seated around the table and muscle in on our company.
To avoid any unnecessary confrontation, we continued to talk amongst ourselves and tried to ignore their presence, while they listened in and felt it necessary to include the odd remark.
One of our group, went to speak with the manageress about asking them politely to move away, but was informed that the older male was regarded as the local gangster in the area and was accompanied by two of his hardmen.
However, she had arranged for us to move into a private room, once her staff had time to prepare it for us.
Unable to do anything about them in the meantime, he returned to pass the word amongst us regarding the situation, whilst our uninvited guests began chatting with the women in our company, and after several more drinks their chat became rude and sexually suggestive.
A short time later, we were informed by a staff member that our room was prepared and we could now move into it.
Unfortunately, when we made our move, our ‘gate-crashing gangsters’ also made their move and followed us.
It was decided by the officer organising the night out that these three neds w
ere just looking to start some trouble and therefore it would be better for all concerned if we drank up and left the hotel to return to the convalescent home, cutting our night short and thereby preventing any unnecessary trouble.
Everyone present agreed, except for a few who made the point that they were out for a quiet drink and were not about to be intimidated into leaving early because of some uninvited intruders joining their company.
Therefore, it was decided, they were staying on.
The lame and infirm were assisted out of the premises by those of us slightly more capable (and sober!).
An hour or so later, I was awakened by banging on my bedroom door and got out of bed to open it. Standing at the door were big Leo and Jack, who brushed past me into my room, slightly panicking.
‘What’s up?’ I asked them, genuinely concerned by their agitated behaviour.
Leo replied in his broad Irish brogue, ‘Those tree bustards started winding us up and challenging us to a fight!’
He then paused and looked at Jack.
‘And? Whit happened?’ I asked him, desperate to know the outcome.
Jack replied, ‘Well, we just battered the fuck oot the two young guys and dragged the older bastard oot on to the street, where Leo proceeded to try and jam his head through the metal railings at the front of the hotel entrance.’
Leo then looked at me, raised his eyebrows, nodded his head and shrugged it off by saying, ‘He’s right. Ah dud!’
‘Whit are we going to do? They’re bound tae call for the polis!’ Jack added, deeply concerned for the predicament they now found themselves in.
I looked at them both for a moment, before shaking my head and smiling.
‘There is no way for a minute they are going to call up the polis and report that they’ve just been handed a severe bleaching by two crippled cops from the nearby police convalescent home. They won’t want anybody to know that, or their so-called hardman reputation and image around the area will be severely dented … Along with their heads.’
They both thought for a moment, digesting what I had just said, before Leo asked, ‘What about the manageress of the hotel? She saw us setting about them. She might report us!’
‘She won’t report anything,’ I stated confidently. ‘She’ll not want her licence affected in any way and it would be the same thing if it was them that battered you. She wouldn’t have seen any of it!’
After a short while, I manage to convince both of them to go to bed and forget about it.
The following morning, I was detailed along with big Leo to go to the local greengrocer’s and collect the fresh fruit order for the home.
Whilst walking along the main street, we met with the manageress of the hotel who, without uttering a word, simply looked over and gave us a big smile before continuing on her way.
This was a tale of three so-called local hardmen meeting their match when they gatecrashed the wrong party.
I bet they never returned to the hotel for a while; well, certainly not until their faces had taken on an Extreme Makeover!
With or Without Cream
• • •
I was invited along to an Author’s Society private luncheon in Edinburgh being held in a plush hotel, where they had booked a function suite.
There were several invited dignitaries and a few celebrities and, as it was, I was seated at the side of one of the long tables, alongside an ex-army colonel, who was exceptionally polite and spoke with a mouth full of marbles; but, in saying that, we both hit it off and got on very well.
After finishing off our main meal, we were then offered the choice of cheese and biscuits, or a delicious sweet dessert. The colonel and I opted for the dessert.
Moments later, we were served our sweets and a very polite and gracious lady at the opposite side of the long table, seeing that we had taken the sweet, called out to us, ‘Would you like some cream up your end?’
Too which I couldn’t resist replying, ‘No thanks, but if it’s all the same with you, I’ll have some over my chocolate gateau!’
I must admit that the colonel almost choked on several of his marbles at that response. Fortunately, it went right over her head … The remark, not the cream!
Billy Whizz
• • •
‘Billy Whizz’ was a nickname the local cops afforded a young spoiled brat from a fairly comfortable, well-off family.
Like a lot of families with reasonable wealth who tend to spoil their children, such was the case with young Billy.
At the tender age of seventeen, his father, having previously arranged private driving lessons for him around his company business yard, had also sent off and organised his driving test to coincide with his birthday.
His driving test proved to be a formality for young Billy, who passed it at his first attempt and arrived home to find a sporty little Ford with a blue ribbon tied around it and the words ‘Happy Birthday’ emblazoned across the wind-screen parked in the driveway of his family home.
Billy couldn’t wait to drive out on to the road and sample his new car.
However, over the next few weeks, Billy’s erratic driving was to attract the attention of many a colleague in the station and several other road users in the area.
As a result of his ‘whizzing’ about, which was becoming irritable to just about every other driver on the road, Billy became a regular talking point in the police station and managed to get stopped on several occasions and issued with a form to produce his relative driving documents at the police station.
He was not only attracting the attention of the local police, but also that of the traffic department, and had been stopped for speeding, careless driving and failing to comply with traffic signals on several occasions.
However, his father intervened many times and, through his business solicitors, made numerous complaints about the police with regards to allegations of harassment and victimisation.
Due to the many complaints against the police, Billy did not appear at court to answer driving charges as often as he should have.
As a result, a decision was taken by a few of the hierarchy to issue him with a police warning, a situation that angered many police officers.
On one particular occasion whilst Archie Bauld was performing the station officer duties in the police station, Billy Whizz had occasion to call and produce his driving documents, having been stopped yet again.
Archie immediately recognised him and, after listening to his derogatory comments about the officers who had stopped and issued him with the form, interrupted him in full flow and said, ‘You haven’t parked this car of yours out at the front of the office, have you?’
To which Billy replied sarcastically, ‘No chance, mate. Your coppers would stick a parking ticket on it, so I parked around the back of your station for safety. They can’t do anything to it there!’
‘Well, it will definitely be safe, that’s for sure,’ Archie replied.
Now, this particular station that Archie worked in was amongst a row of shops on a main street and had council houses above it, with terraced patios.
Archie handed Billy back his form and told him to take a seat in the front office and he would deal with him in due course.
‘Well, don’t be too long, mate, ‘cause I’m on my way out to pick up my girlfriend and no doubt noise up a few of your mates in the process!’
At that, Archie went through to the rear of the station and, quietly opening the back door, he slipped outside where he saw Billy’s shiny new sporty car parked unattended.
He then entered the council housing staircase leading up to the terrace entrance and, looking over the railing at Billy’s new motor car, Archie picked up a very large plant pot full of pretty flowers from off the tiled terrace patio.
He then leaned over the terrace railing, where he promptly dropped the pot right on to the roof of Billy’s dream machine sports car parked below, and it landed with an almighty thud.
As soon as the plant pot had le
ft his hand, Archie took to his heels and quickly ran back down the stairs and reentered the rear of the police station.
He then went back to the front of the office where Billy was sitting, totally unaware of the summary action that Archie had just handed out to him.
After noting Billy’s driving documents, Archie allowed him to leave the station.
As a parting shot, Billy said, ‘You’re the only decent officer I have met in here, but no doubt I’ll be seeing you again sometime.’
To which Archie couldn’t resist saying, ‘Maybe sooner than you think, son, but goodbye for now!’
As Billy left the station, Archie ran to the rear to listen at the door for him arriving back at his parked car.
Suddenly, all that could be heard was Billy shouting and screaming like a maniac, having discovered his extensively damaged car with a colourful flower garden growing out of the sunroof!
The Boss’s Wife
• • •
During his shift duty, a uniformed police officer went into a local barber’s for a haircut.
Whilst the hairdresser was giving him a trim, the door of the salon opened and in walked his chief superintendent.
Quick as a flash, the hairdresser covered the uniform cop’s face with a towel and immediately left him to attend to the chief.
After giving him a haircut, the barber asked if he would like some scented lotion on his hair.
‘Certainly not!’ the chief replied. ‘My wife would think I had been to a brothel!’
At that, he got up from his seat and left the barber’s.
The barber then went over, removed the towel from the cop’s face and finished off his haircut.