• • •
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.
• • •
A newly promoted assistant chief constable was through in Edinburgh attending a police 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.’
• • •
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!’
• • •
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.’
• • •
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.
‘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.
• • •
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.
• • •
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 this 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.
• • •
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?’
‘Naw! No’ a midget. A miniature wean … Ye know the kind! They're always wee scrawny things, God love them.’
‘Aw-right!’ I replied, starting to wind her up. ‘You mean the wean was a dwarf?’
‘Naw the wean's no’ a dwarf!’ she responded angrily.
‘It's a bloody miniature wean – ye know fine well whit ah mean!’
I shook my head. ‘No, I don't know what you mean, Mam!’
‘Ye do so. A wean that didnae go the full distance!’
Now, I knew exactly what she was trying to say, but I kept winding her up. ‘What full distance are you talking about? Where was it going to?’
‘It wisnae going anywhere. It's already arrived here early, hence the reason it wis a miniature wean,’ she replied angrily.
At that, I felt I had to put her out of her misery before she blew a fuse, so I said, ‘I take it you mean the baby was born premature?’
Quick as a flash, she responded, ‘That's it! It wis born premature … That's why it was a miniature!’
• • •
When a local ned attempted to siphon fuel from a motor home parked in Strathclyde Park, he got more than he bargained for.
The police arrived to find a very sick man, curled up next to a pool of spilled, mingin sewage.
A police spokesman said that the man admitted trying to steal fuel, but he'd plugged his siphon hose into the motor home's sewage tank by mistake.
The owner of the motor home declined to press charges, saying that it was the first time he'd heard of someone deliberately ‘taking the piss’!
• • •
I was sitting on the edge of the bed one morning, observing my missus as she was looking at herself in the wardrobe mirror.
Since her birthday was coming up, I asked her what she would like as a surprise.
‘I'd like to be twelve again!’ she replied, while still looking at herself in the mirror.
A week later, on the morning of her birthday, I arose early, poured her a nice big bowl of Coco Pops, then fastened her into the car seat and drove her down to Strathclyde Park and paid her into the M&D theme park.
What a day! I put her on every ride in the park: the Death Slide, the Corkscrew, the Wall of Fear, the Screaming Monster Roller Coaster and the Big Dipper. You name it, I put her on it.
She even had pink candy floss and a heart-shaped lollipop.
Six hours later we staggered out of the theme park. Her head was reeling and her stomach felt upside down.
I then took her to Burger King where I ordered her a Kiddie Meal with extra fries followed by a large chocolate ice-cream decorated with Smarties.
After she'd finished, I whisked her off to the cinema to watch the latest ‘Hanna Montana’ movie, with popcorn, a huge Coca Cola drink, and a hot dog, her favourite.
What a fabulous day of fun and adventure!
Finally, I drove her back home, carried her into the house where she collapsed, totally exhausted, onto our bed.
I leaned over her with a big smile on my face and lovingly asked, ‘Well, darling, how did it feel to be twelve again?’
As she slowly opened her eyes, her facial expression suddenly changed and she said, ‘I meant my dress size, you retard!’
• • •
Police in Manchester have revealed that a woman has been arrested for shoplifting. Apparently she was found to have nicked a ten-inch salami sausage from a deli and concealed it down her knickers.
When asked to explain her actions, she replied it was because she was missing her Italian boyfriend, Romeo.
Aye right!
The Irish police are being handicapped in a search for a stolen van because they cannot issue a description of it.
Apparently it is a Special Branch vehicle and they don't want members of the public to know what it looks like!
So apparently, if you see it somewhere, you should keep its whereabouts to yourself.
Sounds like another old Irish joke … But it's true!
• • •
Like every other workplace up and down the country, the big topic of conversation first thing every day before starting your shift is what a great book we have recently read, or film we have just watched.
I have to confess to being more of a viewer than a reader, as I have difficulty concentrating on the chapters in a book and find it easier to watch the action materialise on the screen.
During the shift muster, prior to being detailed our police duties, there was always someone who had read or watched something that should not be missed by the rest of the shift, and to reinforce his views on this, he would proceed to outline the storyline for us, prompting our interest in it, without giving away the entire plot, like a budding Barry Norman or Jonathan Ross!
It wasn't unusual to have several books with a page turned down marking the spot where the reader had left off, peppered around the office area, particularly in the rest rooms, where the on-duty shift would spend their forty-five-minute refreshment period totally engrossed in the latest chapter.
Not being an avid reader as explained, this was not my scene, as I preferred to hear someone describe the plot in detail, and preferably by someone who was good at telling a story and bringing it to life.
However, when charged with running an office for a few years, I did take great delight in reading the last chapter of many a book being read by a shift member, who would be totally engrossed in the characters and thrilling storyline, and while in conversation with them, I would nonchalantly ‘spill the beans’ regarding the plot outcome and reveal, in all innocence (not!) the ending of the book to them, twist in the tale and all!
Many of my colleagues would refer to me as being one without parents who were legally married, although others would consider it an innocent slip of the tongue.
Suffice to say none of them ever suspected I had only ever read the last part of their book – the part where all was revealed and the plot unravelled – while it was left lying about. They preferred to believe I'd actually read the storyline in its entirety.
I would very neatly and cleverly cut out the last or second-last page of the book which detailed the description in full of all the details pertaining to the plot and the clues to help solve it. Then, several weeks later, so that they wouldn't miss out, I would anonymously send the missing pages to them through the internal post!
On one particular occasion two of the cops on my shift were discussing a film that one of them had just seen and was giving a video copy to the other to view with his recommendation.
‘You'll be glued to the screen, it's absolutely brilliant!’
‘So it's worth watching then?’ the other would ask.
‘Most definitely. There's a twist at the end, pure brilliant!’
‘So what's it called again?’
‘Presumed Innocent.’
‘Who's in it?’
‘Harrison Ford, Greta Scacchi, Brian Dennehy and Bonnie Bedelia. It's a smashing cast.’
Just then, the cop lending the film was called away and the other cop walked over to where I was standing and was about to put it into his locker.
‘Good film, Tam?’ I asked.
‘Apparently it is, Harry. It's a suspense thriller with Harrison Ford called Presumed Innocent.’ He replied. ‘Have you seen it?’
‘Oh yes! Know the one, smashing film, great twist at the end,’ I said. ‘You'll never work it out.’
As he closed his locker and was about to leave, I couldn't resist it and shouted after him, ‘By the way, Tam!’
As he turned back round to face me, I blurted out in my best mischievous voice, ‘It was the wife!’
• • •
A prominent QC was visited at his plush office by a volunteer from a children's charity organisation.
The charity representative began the meeting by saying, ‘Our recent research shows that even though your annual income is in excess of £1.5 million, you don't give a penny to any charity. Wouldn't you like to give something back to your community by supporting our charitable work?’
The QC thought for a minute and said, ‘Firstly, did your research also show you that my father is suffering from Alzheimer's and has accumulated huge private care nursing home bills that are far beyond his ability to pay?’
Embarrassed, the children's charity representative responded, ‘Er … no, I didn't know that.’
‘Secondly,’ he said, ‘are you aware that my brother, a disabled Gulf War veteran, is totally blind and confined to a wheelchair, and due to his disability, he is unable to support his wife and three children?’
The stunned representative began to stammer out an apology, but was cut off again.
‘Thirdly!’ continued the QC. ‘Did your recent research also show you that my sister's husband was involved in a fatal road accident, leaving her destitute with a heavy mortgage and five children under the age of ten years, one of whom is disabled and another who suffers from learning disabilities and has to have daily private tutors who charge her an absolute fortune in fees?’
Now totally and utterly embarrassed, the representative said, ‘I'm so sorry, I had no idea.’
At that the QC said, ‘Well, now you know. And if I didn't give any of my money to them, what the hell makes you think I'm going to give it to you?’
• • •
When his .38 calibre hand gun failed to go off as he fired it at his intended victim during a hold-up, would-be gangster Jimmy ‘The Shooter’ Elliot did something that can only inspire wonder. He peered down the barrel of his gun and pulled the trigger again.
Guess what? This time it worked perfectly. KAH-BOOM!
• • •
The day finally arrived when policewomen were awarded equal pay. From then on they had to go out on uniform patrol in pairs.
On Sunday late shift in the city centre, there were only a few drinking places open, usually hotels.
Big Donna was a brand-new probationary constable straight out of Tulliallan Police College, and was being ‘puppy walked’ around the area by a senior policewoman when they received a call to assist with a large crowd leaving the Glassford Hotel.
En-route to the call, they came upon a disturbance involving two men fighting in the roadway.
They promptly took action and hand-cuffed the stand- up winner to the railings of a nearby public toilet.
Big Donna joined in by pulling up her tight skirt to her waist and jumping onto the chest of the loser, grabbing hold of his arms and pinning him to the ground.
On arrival of the police Land Rover, big Donna was screaming loudly, still on top of her accused, with her bare bum, black suspender belt and scanty panties fully exposed to the world, and with the accused male's head stuck between her buttocks.
Assistance was given, and both parties were separated, however big Donna wanted her accused further charged with sexual assault.
The accused was interviewed at the station where he stated, ‘I genuinely thought she had hurt herself with her screaming in pain like that … I was only trying to soothe her pain.’
It was suggested to the accused that he plead guilty to the minor charge of a breach of the peace.
A week later, big Donna was being given ‘private first- aid lessons’ in her apartment by her off-duty shift sergeant, when he suffered a sudden heart attack.
An ambulance was called to attend and conveyed the sergeant to the hospital, completely naked – a new rule when learning first aid, I believe!
Big Donna, the loyal colleague that she was, remained by his side and accompanied him in the ambulance.
However, an anonymous caller contacted the off-duty shift sergeant's wife and informed her of his sudden illness.
The wife's attendance at the hospital, unfortunately for him, just happened to coincide with the arrival of big Donna, who was returning to the hospital with his neatly folded uniform.
‘MEOUUWW!!’
• • •
An independent petrol station owner in the south side of Glasgow was trying different ways to entice car owners into his garage to increase fuel sales.
As a result, he came up with the following idea and put up a large sign that read: ‘Win Free Sex With Every Tank Full of Petrol!’
On seeing the sign, a local taxi driver pulled in, filled his tank up and asked for his free sex. The petrol station owner told him that he would pick a random raffle ticket from a bowl on his counter and if he picked one ending in a five, the taxi driver would get the offer of free sex. The proprietor picked out a raffle ticket, looked at it and said, ‘It's an eight. Close, but not close enough. Sorry, but you haven't won free sex this time.’
A week later, the same taxi driver, along with his good friend and retired police officer, big Donnie Henderson, pulled in for another fill-up of petrol. After again filling up his tank, he asked for his free sex and the proprietor dipped his hand into the bowl filled with raffle tickets to pick out a number for him.
This time the taxi driver's number was announced as a seven by the garage proprietor, who quickly crumpled it up and threw it away before saying, ‘Sorry, mate, you can't get into heaven with a number seven. It has to be a five to taste the honey from the hive. You were close, but I'm afraid there is no free sex this time. Do keep trying.’
As they left the garage and were driving away, the taxi driver turned to big Donnie and said, ‘I think they bloody raffle tickets are rigged and he doesn't really give away free sex at all.’ To which big Donnie immediately responded, ‘Oh aye, he does. My wife won it twice last week and my daughter has won it once already this week!’
• • •
A police officer was walking his beat one day when he noticed a small boy nearby in a little blue and white checked toy car, done up like a police panda car.
The boy was wearing a diced police helmet and his panda car was being pulled along by his two pet dogs.
The police officer walked over to him for a closer look.
‘That sure is a nice police panda car you have there,’ the policeman said with admiration.
‘Thanks, Officer,’ the boy replied.
The policeman looked a little closer and noticed that the boy had tied the front of the panda car to both his pet dogs’ testicles.
‘Excuse me, young man,’ the policeman now said, ‘I don't wish to tell you how to run your police panda car, but if you were to tie that rope around both your dogs’ collars, I think you'll find that you could go much faster.’ The little boy looked up at the policeman standing there staring back at him and replied, ‘With all due respect, Officer, you're probably right, but then I wouldn't have a siren.’
• • •
Well I suppose it was bound to happen to wee Jock one day.
There he was, casually walking along the road, nonchalantly lifting his leg and watering every lamppost he came across, when suddenly, Bronson, a Staffordshire bull terrier, appeared from nowhere and jumped him, grabbing him around the neck and throwing him about like a Beanie Baby.
Taken totally by surprise, Jock had no chance, as Bronson waited for him to drop to the ground, before trapping him with his right paw and sinking his teeth into him several times in an attempt to rip his wee head clean off his body.
Fortunately, Jock was able to duck and weave to avoid Bronson getting a complete grip of him, and then there was good fortune for Jock as a police panda car stopped and a young blonde policewoman got out and rushed to his assistance, smacking Bronson over the head with her PR24 truncheon and chasing him away from the scene, thereby avoiding any more injuries being sustained by Jock.
Jock also tried to run off, before tripping up over his own legs and falling over in a heap – albeit, a small heap!
‘Oh, you poor wee soul,’ she said, as she bent over to lift him up. ‘It's you, Jock, I recognise you now! Crikey, Jock, you're bleeding. Better get you to the nearest vet.’
At that, she placed Jock into the passenger seat and conveyed him to the local vet for treatment to his cuts.
‘What happened to you then, Jock?’ the vet asked.
‘Ah got jumped!’
‘Can you identify your attacker?’ asked the vet.
‘Naw! Nae chance. He jumped me from behind. Ah didnae see it coming, but I'll tell ye this much, he definitely had a real death wish. The big bastard made me look like a real Charlie!’
Unaware of all that had gone on before, I was in the house watching the TV when I heard a knock on the door.
I got up from my seat to open it, and was surprised to see the young blonde policewoman standing there holding a rather pathetic-looking Jock, feeling very sorry for himself.
‘Is Jock your wee doggy?’ she asked.
‘Sort of,’ I said. ‘So what has he been up to now?’
‘He hasn't been up to anything. Poor wee thing was attacked and beaten up. He was bitten that badly he had to be treated by the vet and have some stitches inserted into his wounds!’
‘Is there a bill for all this?’ I asked, concerned for the cost.
‘No! Because I couldn't locate you earlier, I paid the bill for his treatment, so it's on me,’ she replied.
At that she placed Jock down on the sofa and kissed the top of his head, while he whimpered like a puppy.
‘The wee darling! If it's alright with you, Harry, I'll pop back in tomorrow to see how he is?’
‘No problem, Officer, and thanks very much for bringing him home safely!’ I said, closing the door behind her.
As I walked back into the lounge, Jock said, ‘Dae me a favour, Harry, open up a can o’ meat and chop it up for me?’
I walked over and was about to open the meat for him, when I thought, ‘Wait a wee minute there, Jocky! Let's hear your version of what happened.’
‘Nothing! I swear, it was a totally unprovoked attack!’
‘Bollocks! Now tell me what really happened?’ I said.
He looked up at me with his sad, sorry eyes. ‘Okay! Ye know that Staffordshire bitch fae Busby that I was accused of giving one to? Well her brother obviously found out where I lived and was waiting to ambush me from behind and set about me. The vet said I've got more holes in my neck than a kitchen colander. All I can say is, he was very lucky I didn't see him coming!’
‘So what are you going to do now?’ I asked.
‘Firstly, I'm gonnae get better, after which I'm going to get myself a personal trainer, like big Floyd up the next close!’
‘You're not seriously telling me you're going into training to take on a Staffi terrier, are you?’ I asked, fearing for his life.
‘No way, Jose! I'm gonnae bribe Floyd with a big bone tae dae that.’
• • •
A widowed Glesca pensioner lived alone in the Carntyne area of the city. He wanted to plant his annual vegetable garden, but it was very difficult to do so, due to the ground being very hard to dig.
His only son, Frankie, who used to help him with this by preparing the ground for planting, was serving a custodial sentence in Barlinnie prison.
The old man decided to write him a letter describing his present predicament, hoping for a solution.
Dear Frankie,
I am feeling very sad, because for the first time in years, it looks like I won't be able to plant my vegetable garden. I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. I know if you were here, son, it would be no problem to you. I know how you enjoyed digging the garden for me, like in the old days.
What to do?
Love Dad
A few days later the old man received a letter back from his son.
Dear Dad,
For God's sake, whatever you do, don't even attempt to dig up the back garden. That's where all the bodies are buried!
Love Frankie
At six o'clock the following morning, the old man was awakened by forensic officers and uniformed police, arriving at his house, where they proceeded to dig up the entire garden area, without finding any bodies.
After several hours of searching, they made their apologies to the old man and left.
The very next day the old man received another letter from his son Frankie.
Dear Dad,
If everything has gone to plan, you should now be able to go ahead and start planting your vegetable garden.
That's the best I could do under the circumstances. Love you Dad,
Frankie.
Who said the prison authorities don't read your mail?!
