There's Been a Murder!

by Harry Morris

  Anniversary

  • • •

  I asked my missus last night, ‘Where do you want to go for our anniversary, darling?’

  It warmed my heart to see her face light up in sweet appreciation as she pondered for a few moments before responding, ‘Somewhere that I haven't been in a long time!’

  So I immediately suggested, ‘How about the kitchen?’

  Where Are You?

  • • •

  Last week I had to go to Spain on a promotional tour for my new children books.

  As my missus was not accompanying me, she offered to drop me off at the car park in front of the airport in plenty of time to catch my Ryanair flight to Murcia.

  A week later, I was boarding my flight home and prior to take off, I texted my wife to let her know I would be on time.

  Having boarded the plane, I managed to secure a seat, right at the front, next to the main exit door.

  After a very uneventful flight, during which I slept most of the way, we arrived safely at Prestwick Airport.

  With just a small shoulder bag in the overhead locker, as soon as the exit door was opened, I quickly collected it and was first off down the stairs and onto the tarmac.

  I was first through the Customs / Passport section, and I was even first through the empty baggage hall.

  I was way out in front, having left the rest of my fellow passengers behind in my path.

  So slick was my exit from the plane, I was even first through the airport arrival lounge and out the front doors of the terminal building heading for the car park in first position.

  I quickly rang my missus. ‘That's me landed, hen, where are you?’

  ‘I'm in the garage around the corner, be with you in a few minutes.’

  I stood there in anticipation, eager to see her after my week-long tour.

  Suddenly, my mobile rang and my missus asked, ‘Where are you, Harry?’

  ‘I'm right outside the front door of the airport,’ I replied.

  ‘Okay!’ she said. ‘I'll come back round. Don't move!’ Several minutes passed, as I stood there watching all the other passengers that I had left behind appear out the front doors and head off in their cars.

  Then the phone rang again and I answered. ‘Where are you now?’ my missus asked.

  ‘I'm not anywhere! I'm still standing in the car park, in the same place where you dropped me off!’ I responded.

  ‘Well go to the big Budget Car Hire sign,’ she said. ‘I'll get you there.’ At that she hung up.

  After a few minutes of looking around, trying to locate a ‘big Budget Car Hire sign’, I was compelled to call my missus back to ask her, ‘Darling! What airport are you at?’

  ‘Glasgow of course! Where do you think I am?’ she replied promptly and rather indignantly.

  Then there was a long pause before it dawned on her and she replied, ‘Oops! You're in Prestwick, aren't you?’

  ‘Yep!’ I replied. ‘And I'm standing in the exact same spot you dropped me off at. Remember now?’

  There was another long silence, followed by, ‘Wait for me, I'll be right there!’

  Hookers Feel the Pinch!

  • • •

  Now that the credit crunch is getting a real grip, no one is escaping it!

  Even the price of sex in the red light area of Glasgow has now fallen for the seventh month in a row, giving rise to several pairs of sexy legs being covered up, closed up and moved away to pastures new to try and find work.

  One prostitute has told a member of the Strathclyde Police Vice Squad that she is now charging her lowest prices for sex in twenty-five years.

  The price of a kiss is now only a pound, with a BOGOF offer, and a fifteen-minute snog is as low as £2.50.

  Other reductions being introduced include a grope at her bum for a mere £3, while a feel at a breast is only £3.50, or two for a fiver!

  Sabrina is a regular prostitute who has been working the area for many years now, and who has experienced the highs as well as the lows.

  ‘Ah'm having tae introduce a lunchtime “Credit Crunch Special” tae my punters, incorporating many of my favourite sexual positions,’ she said. ‘That Cynthia Payne had the right idea wi’ the luncheon vouchers!’

  When asked what exactly her lunchtime ‘Credit Crunch Special’ involved, Sabrina replied, ‘Jist like the Griffin Pub aroun’ the corner, I'm offering a starter, a main course and a wee trifle afore ye go for a fiver! Noo that's cheap. Here, take one of my leaflets with the new price list.’

  At that she handed over a colourful photograph flyer of herself (twenty years younger, of course) detailing in her own descriptive words the services she provides, and her lowest ‘bottom’ discount prices.

  There was even a highlighted special offer for a Monday night, where it was two for the price of one. Apparently this offer was proving to be a popular choice with the students at a nearby university, after which many of them took handfuls of her flyers away to distribute around the campus.

  The drop in paying customers in the area is also a big worry for Strathclyde Police who have been forced to relocate several members of the highly popular Vice Squad, assigning them to other duties of similar importance such as robberies, thefts, muggings and murders.

  This lack of interest in the sexual trade has seen many companies in the area suffer, with private car parks closing their doors early.

  Even the famous male stripper group the Chippendales have had to introduce cut-backs, and are now a duo going by the name of Chip ‘n’ Dale, as well as their main rival and competitor, the ‘Dream Boy’.

  We left Sabrina to have the last word and sum up this crisis. Over to you, Sabrina:

  ‘Ah wis jist saying tae yer cameraman, at one point ah wis that busy, my knickers were up and doon more often than an elevator at the Hilton. My business was booming, ah couldnae keep my legs shut. Only last year, I reckon I had more rides than Frankie Dettori, but nowadays, the only time my legs are open for any length o’ time is when I'm walking up the road tae go back home! Mind you, it's good tae get the bed tae masel'!’

  Glesca Family Planning

  • • •

  After giving birth to their twelfth child, named Princess Crystal Chandelier Larsson O'Neill the eighth, a pair of Glesca sweethearts decided enough was enough!

  This came as a result of being unable to afford a bigger bed.

  The hubby decided to see his family GP and inform him that he and his missus didn't want to have any more children.

  The doctor explained that there was a procedure that could help him with this request, called a vasectomy, and that he could solve his problem, but, unfortunately, the procedure was expensive.

  ‘However!’ said the doctor. ‘A much cheaper alternative is to go home and get a firework banger, light the blue touch paper, drop it into an empty beer can, then hold the can up close to your ear and count to ten, and then wait.’

  The Glesca hubby, in the Charlie Nicholas parlance, said to the doctor, ‘I might not be the smartest tottie in the fruit basket, but I cannae see how putting a firework in a beer can, then up next to my ear, is going to help me with my problem.’

  ‘Trust me, I'm a doctor,’ responded his GP assuredly. With these few words of wisdom, the hubby went home, lit a firework banger and dropped it into a beer can.

  He then carried out the rest of his GP's instructions to a tee, held the can up to his ear and began to count, ‘One, two, three, four, five …’ At which point he paused for a moment, placing the beer can with the lit banger between his legs and resumed counting, using his other hand, of course, when … ‘BANG!’

  This procedure is apparently now available on the NHS and has been proven to work, with highly successful results being recorded in Govan, Drumchapel, Garthamlock, Ferguslie Park, Parkhead, Coatbridge, Shettleston and Castlemilk.

  Room Service

  • • •

  A newly promoted assistant chief constable was through in Edinburgh attending a po
lice seminar. He had called ahead and booked hotel accommodation.

  Arriving at the hotel he asked the receptionist, ‘Is the TV porn channel in my room disabled?’

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘It's just a normal adult porn channel.’

  I A*** You!

  • • •

  A man was driving in his newly purchased sports car and testing its performance as he sped along what appeared to be a quiet road, when he suddenly observed a uniformed traffic cop on the footpath with a radar speed gun aimed directly at him, signalling for him to pull over to the side of the road.

  The man duly obeyed the signal and pulled into the lay-by at the side of the road, aware that he was being stopped for speeding, totally disgruntled at being caught.

  The traffic cop walked up to the driver's side of the car and on reaching the window he said to the man, ‘Well sir. I would have thought that with a car like this, you would've wanted to hold onto your driving licence?’

  ‘I do!’ replied the man.

  The traffic cop then looked around the car, admiring it, and said, ‘You must have a right good paying job to own this baby?’

  The man replied, ‘Actually, I do, I am an anus stretcher.’ ‘An anus stretcher?’ asked the cop. ‘What exactly is that?’

  ‘Well, firstly it involves me having to insert two fingers and stretch the anus, working up to two hands then two arms and then I use my arms and my feet and stretch it as wide and as big as I can.’

  The cop was amazed. He asked, ‘How wide do you stretch to?’

  ‘Usually about six feet!’ he replied.

  At this point the cop was totally taken in by this explanation and couldn't resist asking, ‘So, what do you do once you have a six-foot arsehole?’

  To which the man replied, ‘Well, we usually issue him with a uniform, give him a radar speed gun and tell him to hide behind a bush on the footpath!’

  Police Exams

  • • •

  An Instructor at Tulliallan Police College reminded the students of the following day's final exam.

  ‘Now listen to me. The adjudicators will not tolerate any excuse for you not being here tomorrow.

  ‘They may consider a nuclear attack or a serious personal injury or illness, they may even consider a death to a member of your immediate family, but that's it, no other excuse whatsoever will be accepted!’

  A smart-arsed mature student, ‘Winker Watson’, seated at the rear of the room, raised his hand and asked, ‘What would happen if I came in tomorrow suffering from complete and utter sexual exhaustion?’

  The other students in the class tried desperately to stifle their laughter at Winker's remark.

  When order was restored, the instructor smiled at the mature student, shook his head and said, ‘Well I suppose you'd just have to write with your other hand! Wouldn't you? Wanker.’

  An Expert Witness

  • • •

  I love it when I hear a good court case where a cop has got the upper hand on some smug defence agent. This was one such case.

  A young police officer was being cross-examined by a well-known defence lawyer during a robbery trial. This particular lawyer, as per usual, was trying to undermine the credibility of the police officer.

  ‘Officer, can you tell the court, did you see my client fleeing the scene of the crime?’

  ‘No sir, but I did observe a person matching the description of the suspect, running off further along the road,’ the cop replied.

  ‘Can you tell the court who provided you with this exact information and description?’ asked the lawyer.

  ‘The first police officer who attended at the scene.’

  ‘So it was a fellow police officer who provided you with the description of this suspect. So tell me this, do you trust your fellow officers?’

  ‘Most definitely, sir. I trust them with my life!’ he replied

  ‘With your life? Well that's a brave statement, so let me ask you this: Do you have a changing room in the building where you prepare for your daily court duties?’ asked the lawyer.

  ‘Yes sir, we do.’

  ‘And do you have a locker in that room?’

  ‘Yes sir, I do,’ replied the officer.

  ‘And I presume you have a lock on your locker?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes sir, I have a padlock.’

  ‘Well can you explain to the court why someone who has just stated he trusts his fellow officers with his life would find it necessary to padlock his locker, in a room that he shares with these very same officers?’ He then sat back in his chair with a smug look on his face, awaiting the young officer's response.

  The young cop paused for a few moments, as he looked towards the Procurator Fiscal and then towards the Sheriff on the bench, and asked, ‘Do I have to answer m'lord?’ he asked the Sheriff.

  ‘Yes, Officer, you do,’ he replied.

  At this the defence lawyer was overwhelmed with smugness as he looked towards his client and winked his eye.

  ‘Can you repeat the question please?’ asked the officer.

  ‘Certainly!’ responded the lawyer, getting to his feet. ‘I asked you to explain to the court why someone who has just stated he trusts his fellow officers with his very life, would find it necessary to padlock his locker, in a room that he shares with these very same police officers?’

  All eyes in the court then focussed on the young police officer, who paused for a moment before responding.

  ‘Well it's like this, sir, I never said I padlocked my locker because of my police colleagues.’

  ‘Oh no! Well please tell this court why is it that you find the need to padlock it then?’ the lawyer asked again.

  ‘Well, sir, we share part of the office building with the court complex, and with all due respect, sometimes lawyers, such as yourself, have been known to wander through the changing room into our private locker area to use the toilets.’

  The entire courtroom erupted in laughter.

  Number-Three Idiot

  • • •

  Earlier this year, some Boeing employees on the airfield decided to steal a life raft from one of the 747 aeroplanes they were working on.

  They were successful in getting it out of the plane and home.

  One day, while out for a sail on the river, they noticed a Coast Guard helicopter coming towards them.

  It turned out that the chopper was homing in on the emergency beacon that was activated when they inflated the raft.

  Surprise, surprise! They are no longer employed by Boeing.

  The Glesca Gangster

  • • •

  A one-time infamous retired Glesca gangster was invited to a wedding in Manchester.

  After one whisky too many at the party, he went outside for a cigarette and walked off without any of his henchmen to accompany him. Before he knew it, he was lost.

  Wandering about alone and vulnerable in the Moss Side area, he noticed a gang of young ‘hoodies’ heading rapidly in his direction with the intention of beating him up and relieving him of all his hard-earned scran, such as his Gucci wallet, Rolex watch, gold rings and Bulgari bracelet.

  The old gangster thought, ‘Uh-oh! I'm in deep shit now!’

  Noticing an old drunken wine drinker lying unconsciously flat out on the ground close by, he immediately settled down beside him, with his back to the approaching gang.

  Just as the hoodies were about to attack him, he exclaimed loudly, ‘Boy oh boy, you were a tough old bastard. Fifty-four times I had to stab you afore ye stopped wriggling about! I think I'll just shoot the next one and save all my energy!’

  Hearing this, the young hoodie gang halted their attack, and a look of fear came over them as they all skulked off in different directions towards the flats.

  ‘Whew!’ said the hoodie gang leader, ‘That was close! That old bastard might have done a few of us!

  Meanwhile, another old wine drinker who had been watching the entire episode from a nearby shop doorway figured he could put th
is knowledge to good use and trade it for protection from the hoodie gang. So off he went to tell them.

  However, the old gangster spotted him heading off after the hoodies and figured that something must be up.

  The wine drinker soon met up with the gang leader and told him how he had been conned by the Glesca gangster.

  He then struck a deal for himself with the hoodie gang leader for a share of the spoils.

  The hoodie gang leader was furious at being made a fool of and said to the wine drinker, ‘Right you, come with us and see what's going to happen to that conniving old bastard!

  Now, the old Glesca gangster saw the hoodie gang coming towards him along with the wine drinker and thought to himself: ‘What am I going to do now?’ But instead of trying to outrun them, the old gangster knelt down with his back to his attackers, pretending he hadn't seen them yet, and just when they got close enough to hear him, the old gangster uttered out loud,

  ‘Where's that auld wino diddy? I sent him aff an hour ago tae bring me back some o’ they wee hoodie neds tae shoot!’

  Moral of this story: Don't mess with old farts. Mature in age and treacherous in their early days, they will always overcome youth and skill!

  Bullshit and balls only come with age and experience.

  Mini Minors

  • • •

  Wednesday was, as per usual, purple rinse day. That's my special day for treating my wee mammy, when we have a spot of lunch before doing the household shopping, then up the road for a cup of tea and a strawberry oyster cake each.

  During our wee blether, she went off on one as she tried to explain something to me that had recently occurred.

  ‘Ye know her alang the road wi’ the three weans tae three different men that wis pregnet again? Well she had anither yin last week and it was wan o’ yon miniature weans!’

  ‘Miniature weans?’ I asked.

  ‘Aye, a miniature wean. Ye know whit ah mean … miniature.’

  I looked at her with a puzzled expression and said, ‘What, she gave birth to a midget?’