by Harry Morris
This time she changed back to playing right-handed, and only just managed to beat them.
The guys discussed her late arrival and put it down to petty gamesmanship on her part. But she was so gracious and complimentary about how they each played that they couldn't hold a grudge.
Back at the clubhouse, all three guys were totally confused. This policewoman was a complete puzzle that none of them could work out. Finally, after a few beers, one of the cops asked her point blank:
‘Tell me something. How do you decide if you're going to play right-handed or left-handed?’
The policewoman blushed, then grinned like a ‘Cheshire cat’. ‘That's easy,’ she said. ‘When my father taught me to play, I learned from an early age that I was ambidextrous. I liked to switch my game back and forth. Then, when I got married, I found out that my new husband likes to sleep in the nude. From that day, I developed a silly habit. Every morning, before I left the house for golf practice, I would pull the bed covers back and if his manhood was pointing to the right, I would golf right-handed, and if it was pointing to the left, I golfed left-handed.’
Her colleagues thought this explanation was hysterical. Amazed at this bizarre information, one of the cops couldn't resist asking the obvious: ‘But what if it's pointing straight up in the air?’
She looked straight into his eyes and said with a wicked grin on her face, ‘Well, that's when I'm fifteen minutes late!’
True Crime
• • •
A male walked into an American fast-food diner where four police officers were eating and casually walked over to where they were seated.
He then produced a concealed firearm from under his coat and began firing it, killing all four officers, while they sat at their table. He then fled the crime scene.
One of the police officers was shot eight times, including once to the back of his head at close range. Another was shot a total of five times.
An immediate state-wide manhunt was begun for the murder suspect, who was at large, armed and dangerous.
The suspect was traced to a wooded area, where he immediately opened fire at the police. A team of highly trained firearm officers returned fire, hitting the suspect sixty-eight times.
The liberal-minded members of the media were outraged and asked the officer in charge, Sheriff Grady Judd, why they'd shot the suspect sixty-eight times.
Sheriff Judd replied forthrightly, with classic confidence,
‘Cause that was all the ammunition we had with us!’
Did I Hear Right?
• • •
Wee Dougie, an unemployed Glesca punter, was nearing the end of another long, arduous day of sitting in his nearempty local pub in Govan, trying to pick a winner for the next televised horse race.
As he sat there alone, pondering over his choice and talking gibberish to himself, having swallowed a few Buckfast wines, as was the norm, the door opened and a short, fat, well-dressed gay man entered the hostelry, walked right up to the bar and sat down next to him.
Several drinks later, the gay man leaned over towards wee Dougie and whispered discreetly in his ear, ‘Would you like a blowjob?’
Wee Dougie responded by jumping off his bar stool with rage in his eyes and promptly punching the gay man right off his stool, where he then proceeded to knock sixteen colours of shit out of him.
(That's nine more than a rainbow!)
He then grabbed him by the arse of his trousers and the neck of his jacket and frogmarched him out of the pub, leaving him battered and bruised in the street, before returning to his seat at the bar.
Not entirely amazed at what had just occurred, the barman quickly brought over another glass of Buckie to Dougie and said, ‘Here, wee man, I've never seen you react as badly as that before. What in the hell did he say to you?’
Dougie thought for a moment, trying to recollect what he'd heard, before shaking his head and replying, ‘Ah'm no’ very sure, Tam, but it definitely sounded like he was trying to offer me a job!’
Mistaken ID
• • •
All NHS hospital regulations require a wheelchair to be available for patients being discharged. However, while working as a student nurse, my sister Kim found an elderly gentleman already dressed and sitting on the bed with a suitcase at his feet.
As she approached him, he vehemently insisted that he didn't require her assistance to leave the hospital.
After making him aware that rules were rules, he reluctantly succumbed to her charm and let her push him in a wheelchair to the elevator.
On the way down she asked him if any of his family was meeting with him.
‘I don't know,’ he said.
‘Well, what about your wife?’ she asked.
The elderly gentleman looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face and said, ‘My wife? She's still upstairs in the bathroom changing out of her hospital gown.’
Glesca Weans!
• • •
I was told this story by an ex-cop who is now a fully fledged pastor of a local church in the area where he worked as a police officer. Only a child from Glasgow could think of it.
He was testing the children in his local Sunday school class to see if they understood the concept of how to get to Heaven.
He asked them, ‘If I was to sell my luxury house and my fancy sports car, had a big car boot sale, and gave all my money to the church, do you think that would get me into Heaven?’
‘NO!’ the children answered.
‘Well, what if I cleaned the church every day, cut the grass, pruned the roses, and kept all the paths neat and tidy, do you think that would get me into Heaven?’
Again, their resounding answer was, ‘NO!’
By now he was starting to feel extremely relaxed and good about his class. Smiling like a Cheshire cat in anticipation of the outcome, he continued.
‘Well, then, if I was kind to animals and gave sweets to all the boys and girls present within the Sunday school today, and bought flowers for my lovely wife, would that get me into Heaven?’
Again, they all responded in unison with an emphatic, ‘NO!’
He was just bursting with pride for them.
‘Well,’ he continued, ‘then how will I get into Heaven?’
At that a six-year-old boy from the local housing scheme threw his hand up in the air.
‘Tommy?’ he said, keen to hear the answer.
Tommy shouted out with excitement in his young voice, ‘Ye've got tae be deid first, ya bam!’
Harry's Classified Ads
• • •
FREE YORKSHIRE TERRIER CALLED JOCK.
Eight years old. Hateful little bastard. Bites everything and anything! Loves postmen, but generally will try to bite anyone.
Lost in Translation!
• • •
This was sent to me in a text. Very moving.
When you are sad … I will dry your tears.
When you are scared … I will comfort your fears.
When you are worried … I will give you hope.
When you are confused … I will help you cope.
And when you are lost and can't see the light … I shall be your beacon, shining ever so bright.
This is my oath, I pledge till the end.
Why, you may ask? … Because you're my friend.
A few days later, a police colleague sent me the Glesca version.
When ye are sad … I'll help ye get pished, then we'll get the bugger that upset ye.
When ye are blue … I will try to dislodge whatever it is that's choking ye, whether ye want me tae or not.
When ye are scared … I'll rip the pish right oot o’ ye every chance ah get until ye're not.
When ye are worried … I'll tell ye how much worser it could be until ye stop moaning and start laughing.
When ye are sick … Stay the hell away fae me. Ah don't want tae catch it aff ye.
When ye fall … I'll laugh ma frigging heid aff, then help ye up.
This is my oath. I pledge it for a while. Why, ye might ask?
… Because ye make me smile!
The Meaning of AH
• • •
A traffic cop stopped a driver for failing to stop at a red light.
The driver, a real idiot, got out of his car and ran towards the police officer, demanding to know why he was being harassed by the ‘Gestapo’.
The police officer informed him about the red light violation. The driver instantly went off on a tirade of abuse, questioning the marital status of the officer's parents, his sexual orientation, and so on, in rather explicit terms. This tirade went on for a few moments, as the officer calmly wrote out the ticket without saying anything.
When he was finished writing the ticket he added ‘AH’ in the lower-right corner of the narrative portion of the ticket. He then handed the ticket to the driver for his signature.
The driver signed the ticket and when presented with his copy, he pointed to the ‘AH’, demanding an explanation.
The police officer said, ‘That's so when we go to court, I'll remember that you were an asshole!’
Three months later they were in court and the driver was about to lose his licence for having such a bad driving record, but had hired a top defence lawyer to represent him.
In the witness box, the officer testified to seeing the driver fail to comply with the red light.
Under cross-examination, the defence lawyer asked, ‘Officer, is this the Fixed Penalty Notice that you issued to my client?’
The officer replied, ‘Yes sir.’
The lawyer then asked, ‘Is there any particular marking or notation on this ticket that you don't normally make?’
‘Yes sir,’ he replied. ‘In the lower-right corner of the narrative section, I've added “AH” and underlined it.’
The lawyer then asked the officer to explain what ‘AH’ stood for.
‘Aggressive and Hostile, sir,’ he replied.
‘Aggressive and Hostile?’ repeated the lawyer.
‘Yes sir,’ responded the officer.
The lawyer paused for a moment, picked up the ticket for another look and said, ‘Officer, are you sure it doesn't stand for Asshole?’
To which the officer replied with a wry smile. ‘Well, sir, you would appear to know your client much better than I do!’
Sheep Shagging Mystery
• • •
Dougal was stationed for some time away in the outpost of Meldrum in Aberdeenshire. Being a section station, there were some times of day when only one polis was on duty.
One night when he was on duty alone, he received a call reporting that there was a man crawling down Main Street.
Sure enough, when he went to investigate, there was one of the locals, Willie MacKay, pissed out of his mind, crawling along the roadside totally oblivious to the rest of the world.
Dougal got him into the car and carted him off to the jail ‘for his own safety’, as per the Aberdeen Instruction Manual.
However, the ruling stated that you NEVER put a drunk into a cell alone before removing the old army style blanket that was supplied for creature comfort.
Unfortunately, while placing wee Willie into the cell, the phone rang again, with the caller reporting an incident at a local colliery.
Dougal locked him up and hurried away to attend the latest incident, forgetting to remove the blanket, or take the time to note his particulars in the custody book.
As a result, having dealt with the other incident, Dougal completely forgot about wee Willie and drove home to have his break, before returning to the station, where he was met by the station sergeant looking for an update on what was happening in the metropolis.
It was only then that Dougal remembered wee Willie was still in the station cell.
When he went to get him out, Willie had all the hairs from the army blanket sticking to his three days’ beard growth.
‘Whit am ah in here for?’ he asked.
At which point Dougal asked him if he had been drinking in one of the local pubs that bordered a farmer's field.
‘Aye! Ah wiz,’ Willie replied. ‘Whit's that goat tae dae wi’ it?’
At that Dougal proceeded to tell him that he had been apprehended for sheep shagging and went on to show him the wool, (from the blanket) sticking to his beard and charged him accordingly.
He went on to advise Willie that he should contact the local doctor, who Dougal was friendly with, to make him aware of what was going on, should Willie require to attend the surgery.
Willie was later released and nothing more was heard of the experience till one of Dougal's colleagues went to serve the copy complaint on Willie for his appearance at court.
The serving officer carried this out as per the police instruction manual, unaware of Willie having been locked up.
Wee Willie's wife then asked the officer what Willie had been charged with on the big night, so he read the summary to her, informing her that Willie had been drunk and incapable.
‘Thank gidness for that!’ she replied. ‘That's a big weight aff ma mind, ‘cause he's been pestering the life oot o’ me wantin’ tae go an’ see the doacter because he wis caught sheep worrying.’
On hearing her remark, the officer repeated the charge of drunk and incapable as listed in the copy complaint, pointing out that there was no mention of the sheep worrying.
However, Willie's wife had to have the last word and she replied, ‘Ye ken this, polis. In ma ain heart ah kent it wid be fine that ma Willie hudnae been oot worryin’ sheep, cause ah ken for sure he didnae huv his false teeth in that nicht!’
It must be an Aberdonian custom, or maybe just a loophole for the defence to argue that one must have false teeth in, in order to commit the crime of worrying sheep!
Don't ask – I've absolutely no idea why his teeth would make a difference …
Unless he gave the sheep a love bite first!
The Honeymoon
• • •
I really enjoyed this when it was sent to me by a colleague and had to include it for a laugh!
Gavin Hill, a retired police officer, and his wife Mary were on a second honeymoon, near Transylvania, Romania, driving along a rather deserted country road late at night, when it started raining very heavily.
Gavin could barely see the road in front of him, when suddenly the car skidded out of control. Gavin used all his police driving skills as he attempted to steer the car, but to no avail. As a result the car swerved and collided with a tree.
Moments later, having struck the windscreen, Gavin shook his head to clear his sight. Dazed and concussed, he looked over at the passenger seat and saw Mary lying there unconscious, with her head bleeding profusely from her injuries.
Despite the heavy rainfall and unfamiliar landscape, Gavin's natural instincts were to get Mary some urgent medical assistance.
He carefully picked her up and began to trudge along the road. After a short while, he noticed a light in the distance coming from a large house. He approached the door and knocked on it.
The door was opened by a small, hunched man. Gavin immediately blurted out, ‘Help me, please, my name is Gavin Hill, and this is my wife, Mary. We've been involved in a road accident, and my wife has been seriously injured. Can I please use your telephone to call an ambulance?’
‘I'm sorry,’ replied the hunchback, ‘we don't have a telephone, but my master is a doctor, maybe he can assist you!’ At that he opened the door wider. ‘Come in and I will inform him of your presence!’
A few moments later an older man walked into the room where Gavin and Mary were waiting and after introducing himself he said, ‘I'm afraid my butler Igor may have misled you. I am not a medical doctor, I am a scientist. However, I do have some basic medical training, so I will see what I can do for you.’
At that he turned to Igor and instructed him to bring them down to his laboratory.’
Igor picked up Mary and carried her downstairs, closely followed
by Gavin.
Igor gently placed Mary on the table in the lab, at which point Gavin collapsed from sheer exhaustion, coupled with his own injuries, so Igor picked him up and placed him on an adjoining table next to Mary.
After a brief examination, Igor's master appeared worried. ‘Things are very serious, Igor. We must prepare a blood transfusion immediately.’
Igor and his master worked feverishly to administer emergency transfusions, but to no avail. Gavin and Mary Hill died on the operating tables.
The Hills’ deaths upset Igor's master greatly.
Exhausted from his efforts to save them, he climbed the stairs to his oval conservatory, and his grand piano. For it is there that he always found solace.
He sat down on his stool, cracked his fingers and began to play the most stirring, haunting of tunes. The melody found every room of the house.
Meanwhile, Igor was still in the lab cleaning up when his eyes caught a sudden movement, and noticed the fingers on Mary's hand twitching, keeping time with the haunting piano music. Stunned by this, he watched as Gavin's arm began to rise up, and wave, as if conducting every musical note! He was then further amazed as Mary and Gavin both sat up straight on the tables!
Unable to contain himself, Igor dashed up the stairs to the conservatory, burst in the door and shouted, ‘Master, Master! The Hills are alive with the sound of music!’
(I am soooooo, soooooo sorry. But you really should've seen that coming!)
Family Reunion
• • •
A wee Glesca punter called up his son in London, the day before Christmas Eve, and announced, ‘I hate to ruin your day, son, but I thought it was only right to tell you that after nearly fifty years of marital bliss, your mother and I are getting divorced.
‘What? Dad, what are you talking about?’ the son asked.
‘It's simple, son, we can't stand the sight of each other any longer,’ the father said. ‘We're sick to the back teeth with each other and I'm fed up living a lie, so you can call your sister in Corby and tell her.’