by Harry Morris
‘Do you know if it’s good grub and cheap booze?’ asked Jim.
‘What’s the talent like?’ enquired Big Alan.
‘Well,’ said Andy, ‘apparently, you get supplied with free cigarettes all night. You get free drink bought for you all night and the food menu is available for you to eat what you want, when you want and that’s also absolutely free as well!! But – this is the best bit – at the end of the night, you can get as much nookie as you want!’
The guys were all dumfounded with this news, then one of them, slightly puzzled by this offer, asked, ‘Who exactly told you all this, Andy?’
To which Andy proudly replied, ‘My sister!!!’
Three in a Bed
. . .
Fed up with the many men-only nights that their police husbands and boyfriends were having, the partners decided it was their turn to have a ladies’ night.
One of the wives took charge of organising it and had a video selection leaflet from her local video shop. In it, she had noticed a video called Three in a Bed, and having discussed it with the other partners, they unanimously agreed this was the video for their blue ladies’ night.
They all arranged to meet at the home of the wife responsible for organising the video.
They also agreed that everyone attending should supply their own particular choice of alcohol for the occasion.
The big night duly arrived and all the excited ladies had assembled at the designated house.
They eagerly passed the video around, with the title Three in a Bed boldly displayed for all to see.
Was it two women and one man or two men and one woman?
Their imaginations were running wild and they couldn’t wait to find out!
All eyes were on the operator as she stooped over to insert the video cassette. There was a moment of sheer anticipation from the excited ladies.
As they focused on the screen, a huge sigh of disappointment filled the room, as up on the screen before their very eyes came the words: ‘Starring former world champions Jocky Wilson, Eric Bristow and Phil “the Power” Taylor.’
They had picked up an exhibition darts video!!
None of your 69s here, but there were plenty of, ‘One hundred and eighty!’
Religious Exams
. . .
During the Traffic advanced driving exam at Tulliallan Police College, my colleague Willie Smith was filling out the questionnaire attached to his exam paper with his name, divisional number, registered number, etc.
Just below this, it asked for you to write down your ‘region’ and Willie, having misread it, wrote down ‘Protestant’! Much to the amusement of the instructors and his fellow students.
Make Me Go Faster
. . .
My partner David Ball and I went over to the Police Federation office so that David could buy a pair of police sunglasses, which they sold at a very competitive price.
In he went while I waited outside.
I could see him trying on several pairs until he was satisfied.
Out he came, smiling like a poor man’s Tom Cruise and wearing his new ‘make me drive faster’ sunglasses.
As he was about to get into the police Land Rover, I asked him to adjust the wing mirror on his passenger side.
Placing the sunglasses on his seat, he duly jumped out and obliged, before jumping back into the Land Rover and forgetting where he had left the sunglasses. He planted his big fat arse on top of his brand new sunglasses, breaking them!!
Football Detail
. . .
One evening the traffic department were all reporting for football detail, when a big football match was taking place in Glasgow. Before, during and after the match, we all had specific duties to perform.
Having been instructed of my duties, my partner Jimmy McNulty and I went out to our patrol area.
Whilst driving along a road, near to the stadium, with parked cars lining either side of the well-lit road, I saw a sports car coming towards us from the opposite direction.
Jimmy, who was driving the police car at the time, began to move more and more into the centre of the road, in order to restrict the space of the oncoming vehicle.
Due to this action, the opposing driver was forced to stop.
Jimmy then drove up to the driver’s window and asked him if he was in a hurry.
The driver replied that he was, as he was on his way to work.
Jimmy then said, ‘Well, you’ll save some time when you get there. You won’t need to switch off your car lights.’
Then, as Jimmy started to drive off, he remarked just loud enough for the driver to hear, ‘You wanker!’
The driver, looking at his dashboard to see why his lights were not on, then suddenly realised what Jimmy had just called him.
At that point he leant out of his car window and shouted after us, ‘I’ll wank you!’
To which Jimmy shouted back, ‘Not tonight, darling, I’m on the football detail!!!’
Licensed to Bleed
. . .
On another occasion with Jimmy, we stopped a car for failing to comply with a red light and driving through the junction.
We immediately pursued and stopped the male offender.
As was normal, Jimmy spoke with the driver, checking his details while I walked around the vehicle looking for any obvious defects.
As I got to the front of the car, I saw Jimmy punch the driver full in the face and, as the driver threw himself back on to the passenger seat, Jimmy then tried to go through his open window to get at him.
I quickly grabbed Jimmy around the waist and pulled him away, while he protested vigorously.
I managed to calm him down – as far as was possible – and got him to sit in the police car, where he explained what had happened.
It seems that, when Jimmy asked the driver to produce his wee red-book driving licence, the driver had turned away for a moment before producing a licence containing two £1 notes inside.
Jimmy enquired what the money was for and the driver, out of the range of my view and hearing, said, ‘It’s yours – take it!’
This attempt at bribery completely flipped Jimmy into action.
As it was, Jimmy sent the driver away looking like something from Comic Relief with a real bloody red nose for his bother!
Mind you, with Wee Jimmy, the red nose was donated completely free of charge!
Roast Chicken and Chips
. . .
I think all the resident nutcases in the areas where I worked waited until I was on nightshift so that they could pay me a visit at the police station for free counselling sessions, followed by a cigarette, a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit.
At one point, I was performing so many counselling sessions I thought I was employed by the NHS.
One of my regular visitors was a larger-than-life woman called Georgina Hill, or Georgie, as she preferred to be called.
Georgie was a big woman in every sense of the word and she was not blessed with the best of looks. When she put her make-up on, she had a face like a Hallowe’en cake. Obviously a lack of mirrors in the house.
She was excessively overweight by several stone and, stuffed into a tweed coat that was too small for her, she resembled a burst sofa!
Now that I have dispensed with the pleasantries, I will relate my story to you.
The station door opened just after midnight and in walked Georgie, larger than life.
‘Hello, Mr Morris. Just popped in to see how you are and have a wee blether with you!’ she said.
‘I’m fine, thanks, Georgie. What about yourself? I haven’t seen you around for a few weeks,’ I replied.
That was my first big mistake of the night! It was the cue for Georgie to relate to me her entire medical history, pausing only to catch a breath!
‘Well, I don’t think I told you but I’ve been in hospital! I was suffering from a bit of woman trouble!’
She then proceeded to do a Les Dawson and Roy Barraclough imperson
ation, followed by a mime-artist impression as she pointed to her fat belly!
‘All oot! All oot!’ she cried as she made hand signs across her stomach like she was a paid-up member of the Masonic Lodge.
Her voice became quieter and her actions more animated – her operation sounded all the more serious.
‘Anyway!’ she continued, ‘the surgeon opened me up right across my stomach and done the business. I was that wide open they had to call in an upholsterer to staple my wound together. The nurses said, “Georgie, what a mess you were in, hen! That was major woman problems you had.” D’you know, Harry, see efter that operation, I was bloody ravishing. I could’ve eaten a scabby cat ’atween two slice of stale bread—’
I interrupted her. ‘I think you mean ravenous, Georgie!’
‘Same thing, Harry!’ she said dismissively. ‘Anyway, the staff nurse said, “I’m sorry, Georgie, but ye cannae eat. You’ll need to wait for the doctor to come round first.” Then they started all the small talk with me, like, “Have you got any kids, Georgie?” and “Are they boys or lassies?”
‘Well, bugger me! Pardon my expression, but by this time my stomach thinks that my throat’s been cut during the operation and all they can talk aboot is kids! Now, don’t get me wrong, Harry, I love kids and right at that moment I could probably have eaten a whole wan tae myself! But right then all I’m thinking about is Colonel Sanders’ Kentucky Fried Chicken – I’d even have plucked the thing myself!
‘Anyways, next thing is the nurse tells me they have a special surprise for me. “What is it?” I’m thinking to myself. Has the surgeon removed the wrong orgasms? Has he lost his Rolex watch? Or maybe they’ve found bits of Shergar, ’cause that butcher on the main street is definitely dodgy – or maybe he just fancies me. “Gonnae put me oot my bloody misery and tell me?” I said to them.
‘They both looked at each other for a moment before the staff nurse said, “Right, after you’ve had a nice hot bath, I’ve arranged for the kitchen staff to make your favourite meal – roast chicken and chips, just for you!”
‘ “Oh, ya wee dancer!” I said. “I hope it’s the size of an ostrich ’cause I’m feeling pure anorexic!” Well, you never seen anybody get in and oot a bath as quick as me and when I looked at my old Jean Brodie, with all they staples across it, I resembled a centre page of wan o’ my wean’s school jotters! It was the first time I had seen myself in a full-length mirror and my big jazz drum was sticking oot like a pigeon’s landing board! I kid you not – you could’ve balanced a tray o’ drinks on my erse! Anyway, I’m diverting again. However, I’m oot the bath and I’m drying myself and just as I lifted my left leg up tae dry my feet – guess whit?’
She then performed her Les Dawson impression again and started mouthing, ‘Some o’ the staples started popping and I thought I was gonnae burst oot all over the floor.’ (‘God forbid!’ – that’s me thinking to myself!)
‘Ah shouted for the nurses, but it was really another upholsterer I needed. The nurses came rushing in and whisked me away – I had to get emergency treatment. Well, next thing I know they’ve put me on a drip and gave me an emergency blood transmission to replace what I had lost! As if that wasn’t enough, the nurse then tells me, “I’m sorry, Georgie, but you can’t have anything to eat!”
‘I said, “Whit! Are you yanking my chain? I’ve had that “Nil by mouth” sign up on my bed that long, my family thinks that’s my real name in French!”
‘Just at that the auxiliary nurse comes over to me and asks, “Do you need a bed pan, Georgie?”
‘ “Are you trying to take the piss?” I said sarcastically. “You need to eat before you can excrete!” I then turned my attention back to the nurse and said, “And who is going to get my roast chicken and chips, then?”
‘ “The bin,” she replied. “The cook threw it out!” Now, as she put her arm across to tidy my bed sheet I thought about biting it aff!’
Just at that point there was a noise as the rear door of the station was opened and I could hear my colleagues coming in for their tea break.
Interrupting Georgie in full flow, I said, ‘Well, Georgie, I could sit and listen to you going through your medical history all night, but I’ll need to interrupt you because that’s the boys in the police panda arriving for their refreshment period and you’ll never guess what I’m going to have for my dinner.’
She stared at me for a moment before a smile broke out across her face and she said in an excited voice, ‘Roast chicken and chips!’
To which I replied, ‘No, three quarters of an hour like everybody else! Good night, Georgie!’
Forensic Psychologist
. . .
A case at the High Court in Glasgow involved a carer looking after clients with learning disabilities. It was alleged that the carer was taking some of his clients into a secured room where he showed them pornographic videos. It was also alleged that he had sexually abused some of them!
Unable to understand the procedures of the court, the witnesses/complainers had to be taken in separately, prior to the court sitting, to let them see the inside of the courtroom. The judge also made himself available to meet with them and ask them a few simple questions, to confirm that they knew the difference between what is the truth and what is a lie!
Once they had satisfied the various wigs in the court that they knew the difference, the case for the prosecution commenced.
During the evidence a major part of the case relied on the testimony of a forensic psychologist who had interviewed the witnesses and the defence forensic psychologist who had studied his report.
The defence forensic psychologist identified herself to the court, citing her list of rather impressive qualifications.
Her evidence was critical of the prosecution psychologist’s report and the methods he had used in obtaining his results, the main objection being that the prosecution psychologist had, on occasion, to repeat some questions to the victims during the examination.
Out of twelve questions asked of each victim, at least eight required to be repeated.
Thereby, in the defence expert’s opinion, repeating the questions to the victims had prompted totally different answers.
She also stated that due to the method used, each of the alleged victims had been scaled higher in their mental ability and understanding than they should have been!
The advocate depute representing the prosecution then stood up and began the cross-examination of the defence’s expert witness.
It was noticeable that each time she asked a question she turned and looked towards the jury at the opposite side of the courtroom, thereby not addressing her questions directly at the defence witness.
The advocate depute also did not ask her initial question in a loud, clear voice, but did so only when repeating the question and whilst directly facing the defence witness full on.
At this point it became clear that she was deliberately doing this to prompt the defence witness into having to ask her to repeat the question.
Suddenly the advocate depute stopped her line of enquiry and, staring directly at the defence witness, asked her to confirm again for the court her expert qualifications.
‘I’m a forensic psychologist, a clinical psychologist, a member of the Fellowship of Psychology …’ etc., etc.
‘Thank you for reminding the court of your very impressive array of expert qualifications, Doctor. Most impressive indeed! Now, could you please tell the court how you would scale your individual performance in the question-and-answer session we have just completed, taking into consideration the fact that I’ve asked you several questions similar to those asked of the witnesses – who have notable learning difficulties – by the Crown prosecution psychologist, and that out of the ten asked of you, I’ve had to repeat at least seven of them? Now, Doctor, having previously stated your qualifications to the court, it is obvious that you don’t possess a learning disability to submit as an excuse for not understanding my specific, but simple, questions
first time around!’
The doctor tried to qualify her responses. ‘But I didn’t hear your questions clearly so therefore I had difficulty in understanding them properly!’ she said.
The advocate depute paused for a second while focusing on the defence witness and then replied, ‘Exactly, Doctor! Therefore when you asked me to repeat the question, it was to understand it and not to prompt you to give me a different answer!’
Then, turning to address the jury, knowing she had scored a point with her cross-examination, she said, ‘I have no more questions for this expert witness!’ before returning to her seat in the court.
It was a pleasure to be present during some expert and extremely clever questioning by the Crown prosecution!
That was a great court case!
Credit Fraud
. . .
An accused man appeared in court for credit card fraud.
Having been found guilty, he received a hefty fine from the sheriff.
The defence agent turned to his client and asked him how he would like to pay.
To which he confidently replied, ‘American Express!’
Dr White at your Disposal
. . .
Whilst on duty one night in the station, the front door burst open and in ran a man in his mid-twenties who was a known troublemaker in the area.
He was bleeding profusely from a deep laceration to his chin, the type commonly referred to as a ‘Kirk Douglas’!
He was screaming frantically, ‘Help me! I’m getting chased wi’ a team and they’re tooled-up wi’ blades!’
I then heard a loud disturbance outside and I saw about eight youths staring down from the pavement above, armed with knives and clubs.
On seeing me lift the radio to call for assistance, they all ran off.