Sergeant Lerge put down his knife and fork
and turning to Plod, said
‘Yummy yum yummy, yummy yummy yum yum’
and began to lick his lips.
‘Stop licking my lips’ said Plod
and moved further down the table.
The sergeant apologised. ‘Sorry constable,
forgot myself for a minute… bad habit I got into
at police college.’ And muttering something
about the way the light from the canteen window
brought a magical softness to Plod’s cheeks,
he stood up and flustered his way out.
Plod, his appetite gone, pushed away the remains
of his sultana pud and went into a brown study.
Five minutes later there was a knock on the study door.
‘Come’ said Plod. In came the lovely Policewoman Hodges.
‘Sorry to disturb you constable, but I believe
I left my handbag on the chair behind you.’
Plod stood to let her pass, and as she did
he felt her serge with pleasure.
This was the moment he’d been waiting for.
‘Er… I was wondering if… er… spare ticket for the… er…
Policeman’s ball… er’ He stumbled over the words.
W.P.C. Hodges helped him gently to his feet.
‘I’d love to’ she said, and without another word
(except ‘Tarra, see yer Saturday’) left the study,
closing the imaginary door firmly behind her.