Help yourself to a breakfast roll...

The early shift routine started with breakfast. In those days we worked with four shifts, three gaffers and two bikers, known as LCI's. I'll let you use your imagination what LCI stands for but if I had to give you a clue, it would be..... leather clad idiots. They could be seen parading around office, wearing a few cattle beast and inevitably too busy to take any calls. Excuses included - Too cold. Too hot. Too wet. Too dry. Too sunny. I won't write too dark 'cos they never worked night shift anyway. However, despite my disparaging comments the various permutations of guys who manned the bikes were over the years great company, a brilliant laugh and the butt or source of many a joke, not least of which was " no wonder people take an instant dislike to ..... it saves time." They claimed to have generated the biggest caseload. Only because they never answered any calls.

The "breakfast" briefing was, despite the ungodly hour, always a source of fun and light hearted banter. The departing nightshift would regale tales of woe and we would plan the day, allocate follow-up enquiries and start the day with a laugh.  A plethora of rolls would materialise on the table along with the obligatory catering size pot if tea, all to be scoffed before the cars were checked and auto pilot set for the local 24 hr bakery for more tea and a choice of bacon/egg/black pudding roll. The fact I remained a slip of a lad had many wondering if I was nursing a 21 foot tapeworm!

Some mornings we were joined at breakfast by a guy who, whilst not police, was to work with us for the day in a regular joint operation. This guy had a particular enjoyment of our breakfast routine since he had the capacity to eat for Scotland and had a mantra of "nothing goes to waste". It seemed to us that after a few years of enjoying our hospitality it should have been his turn to supply the rolls, but no. To be honest, there would have been more chance of getting an invite to the Pope's wedding.

Time for a wizard wheeze! All but one of the rolls were lavishly spread in butter leaving the "judas" roll to be anointed with the strongest and most violent chilli paste known to man. 

Timed to perfection, and in walks our man. Timing couldn't have been better. Tea everyone? Help yourselves to rolls. We all knew which roll to avoid and being quicker off the mark left the chilli roll for him. As usual, it was munch munch without so much as a thank you until the chilli hit. Firstly his face reddened but not a word from him. Beads of sweat started to form on his brow followed by the stifled grunt of discomfort before a bellow and the downing of a full mug of freshly brewed tea, hot enough to melt plastic. The man must have an asbestos lined throat. Thankfully I'd finished my roll, or I've no doubt it would have been spat out whilst laughing at the failed attempt to pretend nothing was wrong with his scrounged breakfast..........

Incidentally, have you noticed how I very discreetly managed to maintain his anonymity by not naming Martin.