by Harry Morris
‘Oh, nooooooo, Daddy! What is it?’ she screamed, her eyes filling up with tears and the look of sadness written all over her wee face.
There was no easy way to do it; Tom had to tell her straight.
‘Nicola, you owe Daddy a fiver!’
The Blackhills of Glesca!
…
Two cops were walking the beat in Blackhill, when they were instructed to attend a complaint regarding a noisy neighbour.
On arrival at the tenement close, they were met with the reporter, who described the noise in her best Glaswegian patter.
‘It sounds like he’s got a fucking army up there, by the way!’
The cops went to the neighbour’s door and were invited inside, where they then related the complaint about the noise to the householder.
‘Ah know exactly whit it is,’ he said, whereupon he led them to the bathroom, where they discovered he was keeping a horse, with the bath filled with straw and horse manure all over the floor.
The cops were curious to know why he was keeping a horse in the bathroom of his house, to which he replied, ‘Ah’ve got tae keep it in there in case some bastard steals it! Ye cannae leave fuck all outside here.’
‘Horse thieves in the Blackhill? Surely not!’
The Best Man
…
It just so happened that during the beginning of the Serious Crime Squad, a vacancy arose for a Detective Inspector.
The names of officers applying for the role were whittled down until there were only three candidates left.
A Detective Sergeant from the Metropolitan, a Detective Sergeant from Edinburgh City and a Detective Sergeant David Trimmer from Glasgow.
The promotion panel decided to set them a task, where they would release a brown rabbit into the Pollok Estate Park, and each candidate in turn had to use his persuasive skills and detection ability to track it down, catch it and present it before the panel.
First to go was the DS from the Met. He immediately sought the advice of his former colleagues in New Scotland Yard, whom he had worked with on covert antiterrorist operations.
After three days in the park, he returned to the promotion panel tired, dejected and empty handed.
Next to go was the DS from Edinburgh. He sought the help and advice of his former colleagues in the Special Branch as to how to go about the task set before him. All of his expert experience gained in covert operations was put into practice, but just like the candidate before him, after three days, he returned to the panel empty handed and admitted defeat.
Last to go was David Trimmer from Glasgow, who contacted two of his old plain-clothes buddies from his shift in the Gorbals for some last-minute advice before he entered the park.
Within twenty minutes of him entering, screams of pain could be heard as David returned to the edge of the park, dragging towards the panel a large brown bear wearing police handcuffs, with the bear yelling, ‘OKAY! OKAY! I’M A FUCKING RABBIT!’
Who?
…
A client calls up a lawyer’s office and the phone is answered, ‘Jakobsen, Jakobsen, Jakobsen and Jakobsen Solicitors, can I help you?’
‘Can I speak with Mr Jakobsen please?’ the client asks.
‘I’m sorry but he’s on holiday.’
‘Well, let me talk with Mr Jakobsen,’ he says.
‘He’s out of the office and won’t be back in until Monday.’
‘Then put me through to Mr Jakobsen,’ he responded.
‘He’s at court defending a client.’
‘Okay then, can I talk to Mr Jakobsen?’
To which the person answering the phone replied, ‘Speaking!’
What’s Up Doc?
…
This is one of those stories you hear, and think must be a joke, but it isn’t: this actually happened and was in the news.
Apparently a driving instructor, trying to boost his macho appearance, stuck a large carrot down the front of his trousers and pretended it was his erect penis.
Whilst behaving like this, he groped three female learner drivers in a series of indecent attacks.
Having received several complaints, he was arrested and appeared in court where he was found guilty of two indecent assaults and two sexual assaults.
On one occasion, having placed a ten-inch carrot down the front of his trousers, he told one of his driving school pupils that she had executed a manoeuvre so good, it had given him an erection.
He then took her hand and made her touch the vegetable, before revealing later, during her lesson, that it was just a carrot.
He admitted to a jury that it was totally unprofessional, stupid and he now regretted doing it.
The court also heard that he had offered to waive the driving fees of a pupil who had failed her test, if she would pull over into a lay-by and perform oral sex on him. She refused.
‘Oral sex with a carrot? NO THANKS, JASPER!’
No doubt he tried to convince her of the old wives’ tale about carrots being good for your eyesight and helping you to see better in the dark. But so do Specsavers, and they’re doing a better deal: ‘Buy one pair, get another pair free!’
Anyway, it does conjure up a whole new meaning to your Sunday lunch of ‘MEAT AND TWO VEG’ being good for you!
Barking Mad
…
I once attended at a house regarding a complaint about dogs continually barking.
On my arrival at the house I was invited in by the owner, amid the noise of several dogs barking.
I informed him why I was there and he explained to me that his dog had recently had pups and within the following week they would all be away to new owners, having been purchased in advance.
He then led me through to a room to view the dogs, who were all hyperactive.
‘Get down, Rolex. Ebel, come here! Sit down, Timex. Cartier! Stop chewing that cushion!’
I looked on with interest before asking the inevitable.
‘So what kind of dogs are they then?’
To which he looked at me and said, ‘I thought that would be obvious to you, Officer! They’re watch dogs!’
Spartacus
…
I was reading an article in the Police magazine recently, where the infamous scene from the Hollywood epic block-buster Spartacus was recreated. Two detective police officers from the same area, with the same name, were assigned to investigate a burglary case, and it just so happened that when they interviewed the potential suspect involved, by sheer coincidence, he also shared the same name.
Both detective officers were less than keen to claim his identity.
It makes you want to dig deeper to see if the detectives were in fact related to the suspect as well!
Only joking, guys!
That famous scene in the film is where the Romans have captured Spartacus and all his men and make them the offer that if the real Spartacus identified himself, then the rest of his men would be spared a horrible death.
The macho Kirk Douglas (Spartacus) sits with John Ireland and a young Tony Curtis and tells them that the only thing left for him to do is to stand up and admit to his identity, thereby sparing them all from a horrible, drawn-out death.
After several deep-breathing exercises, he gets to his feet and utters the immortal words, ‘I’m Spartacus!’
But, to his surprise, and a good bit of scriptwriting, one by one his loyal army of brave men get to their feet and do likewise, each one proudly declaring, ‘I’m Spartacus! I’m Spartacus! I’m Spartacus! I’m Spartacus!’
Now, as touching as this scene is, if it was moved to modern-day Glasgow, there would be no chance of that ever happening.
Picture the scene once more. Kirk Douglas gets to his feet, and admits to his identity. ‘I’m Spartacus!’
The others in his gang follow his lead and immediately stand up in support of him, and within a few seconds their arses would be making buttons whereby they would instantly point their accusing fingers at him, positively identifying him to
the police officers present.
‘He’s Spartacus!’, ‘He’s Spartacus!’, ‘That bastard there sir!’, ‘He made us dae it!’, ‘Ah didnae mean it!’, He’s Spartacus and I’m a crown witness!’, ‘Ah saw him dae whatever you want me tae say he did!’
Fact or Fiction?
…
The brief scenario is as follows.
Young Billy has just broken the window of the next-door neighbour’s car.
Back in the 1960s, Billy’s dad would have dragged him into the house and leathered his arse with a carpet beater, after which he would have reimbursed the neighbour for the cost of his replacement car window.
Billy would be more careful in the future, grow up a normal, respectable boy, study hard at school, go on to college and become a successful businessman.
But present-day Billy would call Childline and report his dad. As a result of his phone call, his dad would be arrested for child abuse.
Billy is subsequently removed from the family home and taken into foster care, where he stays out late at night and joins a gang.
A psychologist visits the family and informs Billy’s sister that she remembers also being abused by their dad.
As a result of his report, the dad goes to prison.
Billy’s mum finds it difficult living alone, being a single parent, and ends up having an affair with the psychologist.
The psychologist gets a promotion!
Fact or fiction?
Wrong Side of the Bed
…
Mother Superior was on her way to the late-morning prayers, when she passed two novices just leaving early-morning prayers and on their way to classes.
As she passed them, she said, ‘Good morning, ladies.’
The novices replied, ‘Good morning, Mother Superior. May God be with you.’
After she had passed them, she heard one say, ‘I think she got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning!’
This remark startled her, but she chose to ignore it.
Further along the corridor, she passed by two of the Sisters who had been teaching at the convent for several years. She greeted them as normal with the words, ‘Good morning, Sister Martha, Sister Jessica, may God flood your minds with wisdom for our students today.’
‘Thank you, Mother Superior, and may God be with you.’
Again, after passing, she overheard the words, ‘She got out of the wrong side of the bed today.’
Puzzled by this, she started to wonder if she had spoken harshly, or displayed an irritated look on her face. So she vowed to be more pleasant.
Looking further along the corridor, she saw retired Sister Mary approaching, step by step, with her walker. Knowing that she was slightly deaf, Mother Superior had plenty of time to put on a pleasant smile before greeting her.
‘Good morning, Sister Mary. I’m so happy to see you up and about. I pray the Lord watches over you and gives you a wonderful day!’
Sister Mary looked at her closely and said, ‘Ah, good morning, Mother Superior, and thank you. I see you got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning!’
Mother Superior was totally stunned by this.
‘Sister Mary, please tell me. What have I done wrong? I have gone out of my way to be pleasant and greet everyone with a smile, but three times already today people have made the same remark about me.’
Sister Mary stopped with her walker and turned to face her.
‘Oh, don’t take it personal, Mother Superior. It’s just that you’re wearing Father Jack’s boots!’
Glesca Bomb Alert
…
During the late seventies and early eighties in Glasgow, we were to receive a large number of Bomb Alerts at the police office, with regards to ‘bombs’ within certain public houses.
Apart from one that I personally attended, which was genuine and did blow up, the rest of them were hoax calls, but we still had to attend and carry out the police procedure methods, as detailed in our instruction manual, of how to approach and deal with such an incident.
However, Glasgow and the people who reside there are not like the inhabitants of any other city – particularly when it comes to asking them to part company with alcohol!
It would be true to say you would have more chance of them parting company with the wife and weans!
One call in particular, on a Friday night, referred to a well-established public house that was so overcrowded, it was bursting at the seams – or, as we say in Glesca, it was heavin’!
Accompanied by my colleagues, I entered the premises and made my way to the bar to seek out the landlord of the establishment, to inform him of the bomb threat call, and the need to evacuate the premises forthwith.
I then proceeded to inform the patrons in the pub of the need for their co-operation with regards to our presence there and to calmly make their way in an orderly fashion outside onto the street while we made a thorough search of the premises.
This request did not go down well with the majority of the patrons, who refused point-blank to leave, citing the following reasons:
‘But I’ve just bought a round up for the table, big man!’
‘That pint has just been poured afore you came in and I’m no’ leaving it for some other bastert tae swally while I’m hanging about outside!’
‘Can ah get a quick whisky, Officer? I’ve got tae go up the road, my tea will be on the table!’
They just would not accept the fact that someone would try to bomb their pub!
So much so that even the pub landlord refused to leave.
Not to be compared with the Captain of a sinking ship.
Not at all.
And it was certainly nothing to do with bravery in any shape or form by the landlord.
His excuse for not leaving his premises was the fact that every bugger who went outside the pub during the evacuation would return and immediately complain about how their round of drinks, bought just prior to being asked to leave the premises, had mysteriously disappeared, or been drunk by someone else, or spilled during their absence.
Therefore he remained to guard all the drinks in the place!
In some premises, a bomb hoax call was becoming a regular occurrence for the patrons and an expensive round of drinks, in the aftermath, for the pub landlords!
It was also discovered to be part of a ploy by some pub patrons, after they had witnessed the police procedure on their arrival at such an incident.
However, it was after a police controller received three bomb alert calls on the one night to a certain pub in the east end of Glasgow that a trace was done on where the hoax calls had been made from and it was confirmed.
They had all been made from the public telephone inside the pub.
Some people will go to any length to scam a free drink!
Airport Alert
…
Airport baggage handler/terrorist attack hero/local celebrity John Smeaton and one of his baggage handler colleagues, Fred, are celebrating at a party for John’s new-found fame as the hero of the Glasgow airport terrorist attacks.
After a few beers and one or two whiskies, they hear one of their colleagues mention that aircraft fuel gives cocktails an extra kick.
Just what is needed to keep the party swinging along nicely!
So they help themselves to some of this fuel to liven up the party.
Sure enough, the cocktails with the added kick of aircraft fuel taste great, and everybody at the party is swallowing it down, faster than a speeding Jeep through the doors of the airport.
As a result, they all get totally rat arsed!
The following day, John is awakened by the phone ringing.
When John answers the phone his mate Fred calls out, ‘John! John!’
‘What is it, Fred?’
‘How are you feeling after your fuel cocktail?’ Fred asks.
‘Not bad at all,’ John replies.
‘Well tell me this then. Have you farted at all this morning?’ Fred asks.
‘Not yet!’ John replies. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because for fuxsakes, don’t,’ Fred shouts. ‘Cause I just did, and I’ve ended up in Palma Mallorca!’
PART THREE
The Final Orgasm!
…
An elderly lady in Edinburgh contacted the police control room in Glasgow, stating that she had spent the previous night and most of the morning trying to contact her daughter who resided in the Partick area, without any success, and as a result of this she was becoming anxious with regards to her health.
The history was that the daughter, a mature student who lived alone and studied at the University of Glasgow, suffered from an ongoing heart complaint.
As a result, during my police patrol, I was instructed to attend the home address and check it out.
On arrival at the house, I could see that the living-room curtains were closed.
I knocked on the door several times, but got no answer. Whilst I was doing this, my colleague Dick Waddell had gone to the rear of the house and looked in the window.
Moments later he returned and said, ‘I think we have a sudden death here!’
At that, we forced the door and entered the house, and as we went into the living room we discovered the daughter, lying naked, face down over a foot stool, with the TV still on.
We could also hear a distinct buzzing sound.
Dick went around the room, switching off the television, the lamp, the fire, but still there was a buzzing noise. Then suddenly we realised it was coming from the deceased female.
On closer inspection, we discovered she had a vibrator sticking out of her private parts, and it was still going strong.
Duracell batteries, no doubt!
This prompted Dick to switch the TV back on immediately and play the video recorder, and we then discovered she had been watching a blue movie prior to her death.