There's Been a Murder!

by Harry Morris

  ‘Easy. You just hit it. Watch, out the way and I'll show you,’ he said as he picked up a large wooden club hanging from the side of it and raising it above his head. He brought it crashing down against the gong, making a deafening ‘bong-g-g!’ noise that vibrated off the walls of the house for several seconds.

  Moments later, his next-door neighbour could be heard shouting out, ‘Ho! Keep the noise down. It's two o'clock in the bloody morning!’

  He then checked his wrist watch, held his arm out in front of me to see, looked me straight in the face, winked his eye and said, ‘Spot on. Works every time!’

  The Golf Outing

  • • •

  My good friend and resident nutter, big Donnie Henderson, along with three of his police colleagues, arranged to meet up for a game of golf.

  They walked onto the course and after playing only three holes, they were held up while waiting for a particularly slow group of golfers in front of them.

  One of the cops in Donnie's party said, ‘What's with these guys? We've been waiting for about fifteen minutes now!’

  Another remarked, ‘I've never seen such crap golfers!’ The third cop shouted out, ‘Ho! Gonnae move it, we've got our work to go to!’

  Then the first cop said, ‘Hold on, here comes Derek the greens keeper. Let's have a word with him about them.’

  ‘Ho Derek!’ he said. ‘What's the score with that mob ahead of us? They're a bit slow, are they not?’

  Derek the greens keeper looked over at the group and replied, ‘Oh, that group? They're all blind fire fighters. They lost their sight while saving our clubhouse from a fire last year, so the club allows them to play the course for free anytime.’

  The police officers all fell silent for a moment, before one of them said, ‘God forgive me for complaining about them!’

  A second one said, ‘I'm going to contact my brother in law, he's an ophthalmologist, and see if there's anything he can suggest that could help them.’

  The third one replied, ‘I think I'll do a charity run for them and try and raise some money in honour of their bravery.’

  Donnie thought for a few moments then looked at his three colleagues standing there and said, ‘So they're blind? Well how the hell can they no’ play at night?’

  Big Broon!

  • • •

  Stationed at Viewpark, Uddingston, was a big six-foot-six gentleman polis called Jimmy Brown – or ‘Big Broon’ as he was affectionately referred to by his colleagues.

  Apparently during the Peter Manuel murder enquiry, a certain Willie Muncie was in charge of the Lanarkshire investigations and turned up unexpectedly at the station to brief his men. After the briefing, he decided to perform an impromptu inspection of them and their equipment.

  The officers lined up and were instructed to produce their appointments for inspection.

  As he walked along the line with each officer holding out their ‘appointments’ of whistle, hand-cuffs and baton, he stopped at Big Broon and asked, ‘Where's yer cuffs, Broon?’

  Nervously, Big Broon replied with the first thing he could think of, which just happened to be totally unrelated. ‘Erm, I've a wee hole in my pocket, sir!’

  Mr Muncie looked at him with a puzzled expression on his face before replying, ‘Ye've a wee hole in your arse as well, Broon, but what has that got to do with you not having yer cuffs?’

  The Police Marksman

  • • •

  Police marksman and former colleague of mine John Knox was instructed to attend a call from a circus owner, regarding one of his Bengal tigers that had escaped from its cage in the Kelvin Hall Arena and was now running wild.

  John arrived at the scene with his firearm, with specific orders to shoot the animal, should it become a danger to any members of the public.

  As the circus owner, Bobby Roberts, and his staff searched the area for the tiger's whereabouts, it wasn't long before it was sighted at the rear of the Transport Museum nearby, where they managed to isolate it and prevent it from going any further.

  Try as they might, the circus owner and his staff were having difficulty capturing the tiger, which was now baring its large ferocious teeth and preparing to wreak havoc.

  With all efforts to capture the tiger proving unsuccessful, and the possible danger it posed to the public at large, the harsh decision was taken for the police marksman to take over and deal with the situation.

  Prior to John taking up his best position to have a clear shot at the tiger, Bobby Roberts passed on some lastminute advice to him.

  ‘I'm not going to lead you up the garden path here. We have a serious situation, because this is one ferocious tiger. He attacked my last animal tamer and savaged him. His injuries were so bad, he required 470 stitches, skin grafts to his face and body, as well as having his right arm ripped from the socket. So, when you take aim to shoot it, you had better be good, or you're history!’

  A few moments later, John was lining up his sights when a young, blonde woman wearing a long black coat walked straight past him carrying a small stool and a whip.

  She walked in front of his gun sights and towards the ferocious tiger.

  The tiger started to snarl and pant and began to attack, running straight at her, when suddenly, almost upon her, she flung open her long black coat, revealing her beautiful young naked body.

  John's eyes popped as the tiger stopped dead in its tracks, dropped to the floor like a cuddly Tigger toy, meekly crawled up to her and started licking her feet and ankles.

  The tiger continued to lick and kiss her entire body for several minutes before resting its big ferocious head at her feet.

  Bobby Roberts’ jaw was on the floor having witnessed at first hand this reaction by one of his fiercest circus animals.

  He turned to John and said, ‘I've never seen anything like that in my entire circus life. How can you possibly top that?’

  John replied, ‘Easy peasy! Just you get that tiger out of the way and I'll show you!’

  Damn Lies

  • • •

  Two old codgers, Bill and Sid, would meet up in the park every day to feed the wild pigeons, watch the squirrels and discuss issues like global warming.

  One day old Bill didn't show up. Sid didn't think much about it at the time, but figured maybe he had a cold or something.

  However, after Bill hadn't appeared at the park for a week or so, Sid became worried.

  The only time they'd ever got together was at the park, and Sid didn't know his friend's surname or where he lived, so he was unable to find out what had happened to him.

  A month or so had passed, and Sid figured he had seen the last of old Bill, when out of the blue, one day Sid approached the park and lo and behold, there sitting on their park bench was Bill!

  Sid was very excited and happy to see his friend, and he told him so.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Bill, where in hell's name have you been?’

  Bill replied, ‘I've been in the Bar L.’

  ‘Jail?’ responded Sid. ‘You've been in the jail? What in the world did you do, man?’

  ‘Well,’ Bill said. ‘D'you know Sally, the cute little blonde waitress in the Asda coffee shop where I sometimes go?’

  ‘Yeah,’ replied Sid, ‘I remember her. What about her?’

  ‘Well, she filed rape charges against me, and at eighty-nine years old, I was just so proud that when I went into court for my trial, I pleaded guilty right away.’

  ‘So you got locked up for rape?’ asked Sid.

  ‘Naw!’ replied Bill, with more than a hint of disappointment in his voice.

  ‘The bloody judge called me a liar and gave me thirty days for perjury.’

  Naughty Neighbours

  • • •

  During my twenty-nine-year police career I saw some disturbing and horrific sights, however they were nothing in comparison to what I was about to witness on several occasions in the one week.

  I was working an early-shift week, having to ris
e with the alarm going off each morning at five o'clock.

  After a quick shave, I got dressed and switched on the kettle for the obligatory early-morning ‘wake me up’ coffee, before making my way to the front door to collect the even earlier milk delivery on my doorstep.

  By pure coincidence, for the umpteenth time that week, I opened my front door a split second before my neighbour, directly opposite, who once again appeared wearing a very low-cut, short see-through negligee, exposing dark, erect nipples and gold coloured high-heeled shoes.

  Very fetching, I thought, and possibly a sexual turn-on for many people!

  However, it was not for me. I felt I had to act responsibly so I put my police face and head on and called over,

  ‘Here, George! One of these days you're going to get caught wearing your wife's clothes!’

  Driving by Braille

  • • •

  One day I was out with my old mate Jimmy Clark, and we were driving along on our way to the Retired Police Officers’ Association meeting.

  We were both wearing our prescription spectacles.

  As we drove along the road, chatting away, we approached a crossroad junction controlled by automatic traffic signals.

  The traffic light was showing red, but Jimmy failed to comply with it and drove straight through.

  I sat there in the passenger seat and thought to myself, ‘I must be losing it here! I could have sworn he just drove through a red traffic light.’

  After a few more minutes, we approached another crossroad junction where the traffic light was showing red, and just like the last one, Jimmy drove straight through it, failing to comply again.

  This time, sitting in the passenger seat, I was almost certain that the traffic light had been red, but was also concerned that Jimmy might be seeing things.

  I was becoming very anxious and nervy, so I decided to pay closer attention at the next junction. Sure enough, the light was definitely showing red and, without any attempt to slow down or stop, Jimmy drove right through it.

  I couldn't ignore it any more, so I said, ‘Jimmy! Did you know that you've failed to comply with three red lights in a row, each time driving straight through the junction? You could have killed the both of us!’

  Jimmy turned to face me with a stunned expression on his face and said:

  ‘Oh shit! I take it I'm driving then?’

  The Moon Walk

  • • •

  This is one of these wee stories you come across from time to time that is very interesting and allegedly true … Honest!

  Apparently on July 20, 1969, when American astronaut Neil Armstrong, the commander of the Apollo 11 Lunar module, was about to make history by being the first person to set foot on the moon, his first words were immortalized as, ‘That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.’ These words were televised to Earth to be heard by millions all around the world.

  However, just before he re-entered the module, he allegedly made the enigmatic remark, ‘Good luck, Mr Gorsky.’

  Many people at NASA naturally assumed it was a casual remark directed at some rival Soviet cosmonaut and so didn't pay too much attention to it at the time, but upon checking out the remark later, it appeared there was no Mr Gorsky in either the Russian or American space programmes.

  Over the next few years, many people questioned Armstrong as to who the ‘Good luck, Mr Gorsky’ statement had been aimed at, but Armstrong remained tightlipped, and would always smile, before declining to reply.

  During another public appearance by Neil Armstrong on July 5, 1995, while being interviewed following a recent speech, a reporter made reference to the twenty-six-year-old question that Armstrong had never fully explained.

  This time Armstrong finally responded.

  The Mr Gorsky referred to in his remark had died, so he felt the question could now be addressed.

  It appears that in 1938, when Armstrong was a young boy in a small Midwest town, he was outside in the back yard playing baseball with a friend, when the ball landed in his neighbour's yard, near to the bedroom window.

  His neighbours at this time were Mr and Mrs Gorsky. As Armstrong bent down to retrieve his ball, he heard Mrs Gorsky shouting at her husband.

  ‘Sex! You want sex? You'll get sex when the kid next door walks on the moon!’

  Dangerous Waters

  • • •

  Normally, when you read a sign, or are told that ‘these waters are dangerous’, you automatically think: sharks! But not this time.

  Apparently, fire authorities in California found a male corpse in a burned-out section of a forest while assessing the damage done by a forest fire.

  The deceased male was dressed in a full wet suit, complete with scuba-diving tanks on his back, flippers, and face mask.

  A post-mortem examination revealed that the man had died, not from burns, but from massive internal injuries.

  Dental records provided the police with a positive identification. Police investigators then set about trying to determine how a fully clothed deep-sea diver had ended up in the middle of a forest fire.

  It was revealed that on the day of the fire, the man went diving off the coast, some twenty miles away from the location of the forest.

  The fire fighters, seeking to control the fire as quickly as possible, had called in a fleet of helicopters with very large dip buckets, so that the water could be collected from the ocean and emptied over the site of the forest fire.

  You guessed it!

  One minute our deep-sea diver was making out like Flipper in the Pacific, and the next he was doing the breast stroke in a fire dip bucket 300 feet up in the air.

  Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed.

  Donnie the Undertaker

  • • •

  Big Donnie Henderson was on duty in his new career as assistant undertaker to a funeral director when a man who had just died was delivered to the mortuary by former colleagues John Davie and Leslie Rose.

  The deceased was wearing an expensive, immaculately tailored black suit, when he suffered a fatal heart attack.

  Donnie spoke with the deceased's wife and asked her how she would like the body to be dressed, pointing out that he looked very smart in the black suit that he was already wearing.

  The widow, however, replied that she always felt her husband appeared at his best when dressed in blue, and it was therefore her preference for him to wear a blue suit.

  She then presented Donnie with a blank cheque and said, ‘I don't care how much it costs, but please have my husband dressed in a blue suit for the friends and family viewing.’

  The woman returned the following day for the viewing and, to her amazement, she found her husband smartly dressed in a Ralph Slater blue suit with a subtle chalk stripe. It was a perfect fit.

  She turned to Donnie with a tear in her eye and said, ‘Whatever this cost, it was well worth it. I'm totally satisfied that you've done an excellent job and I'm very grateful to you. How much did you have to spend?’

  To her complete and utter surprise, big Donnie replied, ‘Nuthin'!’ and returned her blank cheque. ‘Not a penny, hen. There was absolutely no charge involved.’

  ‘No really, you must allow me to compensate you for the cost of that exquisite blue suit!’ she said.

  ‘Honestly, hen,’ Donnie said, ‘it cost nuthin’. You see, after you left yesterday, another deceased gentleman, about your husband's size and build, was brought into the parlour and by sheer coincidence, he was wearing an attractive blue suit. So I asked his wife if she minded him going to his grave wearing a black suit instead of his blue one, and she replied it would make no difference to her, so long as he looked presentable.’

  ‘So are you telling me you went to all the bother of stripping them both and changing over their suits?’ she asked, impressed by the service provided.

  ‘Don't be silly, hen,’ responded Donnie. ‘I just switched their heids roun'!’

  Game On

  • �
� •

  Several of my police colleagues who lived and died for their Saturday morning round of golf were disappointed when one of the group was transferred to another division. It wasn't going to be the same without him.

  A young policewoman was promoted into his position. One morning during a coffee break, she heard the guys talking about their usual Saturday golf game and how they needed another player to make up the four, and said, ‘I didn't tell you, but I used to play on my golf team at college and I was considered quite good. Would you mind if I replaced him and joined you for a game next week?’

  The three cops looked at each other, none of them wanting to answer ‘yes’, but she had put them into am awkward position.

  Finally, one of them agreed, but he pointed out that they started about 6.30a.m., thinking that the early tee-off time would discourage her.

  The policewoman thought for a moment, before asking if she could be up to fifteen minutes late.

  Her colleagues rolled their eyes, but reluctantly agreed to her request. ‘Good!’ she said. ‘Then I'll be there at 6.30 or 6.45 at the latest.’

  The following Saturday, she showed up at 6.30 sharp and promptly beat all three of them with an impressive two-under-par round. She was very pleasant and good fun and the guys were suitably impressed.

  Back at the clubhouse, they congratulated her and invited her to play the following week. She smiled and replied, ‘Okay. But as we agreed, I'll be there at 6.30 or 6.45.’

  The next week she again showed up at 6.30 sharp. Only on this occasion, she brought her left-handed clubs to play.

  Her police colleagues were speechless as she beat them with an even-par round, despite playing with her off-hand.

  They were totally amazed, but suspected she was trying to make them look bad by beating them left-handed. They just couldn't figure her out, as she again was very pleasant and didn't seem to be deliberately trying to embarrass them.

  Afterwards, they duly invited her back to play again, each of them desperate to beat her.

  On the third week, the guys had their game faces on. However, this time, she was fifteen minutes late, which made them irritable.