Read it phonetically is about the best I can suggest, but bear in mind the difficulty this created with autocorrect trying to change just about every written word.
One day, whilst patrolling the extremities of our geographical boundary, we got a call. The jist was a guy from Aberdeen was driving towards Dundee following a van which was towing his trailer that had been stolen from him a few years previously. Eagle eyed car driver had spotted the minor but unique alterations to the expensive and commercially available Ifor Williams trailer whilst driving behind said trailer and had called the police. (Actually it was his passenger wife who called, so forget the wise ass comments about us booking him for using his phone whilst driving.)
Stopping the offending van was swiftly achieved. What happened next took quite a while. It also took a long time to recover from before we were in a fit state to drive on.
The van driver was out of his vehicle like a shot and back to our patrol car with that indignant look of "what?" He could be described as deceptively quick. He was slower than he looked.
May I take time here to describe said driver.
No stranger to the fish supper.
Greasy lank hair
36 hr shadow - not designer
Glasses that were last cleaned 10 years ago when first supplied to Cosmo Smallpiece of Les Dawson fame.
Long since white t-shirt emblazoned with tea, coffee, egg and various other recent and maybe not so recent culinary experiences.
"It's about the trailer."
"I never stole nae trailer lads"
Dave and I look at each other in amazement.
"We never said it was stolen. How did you come about it?"
"I bocht it at a rowp."
"A what?"
"At a rowp"
"A w h a t ??"
" A r o w p."
"What the hell is a rowp?"
There then followed a protracted explanation as to the less finer dealings within the farming community where commodities are bought and sold in a less than professional manner. In effect, it is a car boot sale for agricultural tools and equipment and a resetters paradise.
"How much did you pay for it?"
"Thurty pownd."
"Do you have a receipt?" (Not really expecting one.)
"Nah lads I've nae got nuhin lik at."
Full details of our criminal mastermind were already noted, so whilst background checks were carried he was sent back to his van having left the ignition key with us.
Registered keeper check. Fine - it was his van.
Insurance - Valid
MOT - current
Criminal records - oh my giddy aunt. This guy has seen the inside of more police cells than a Gideon has hotel bedrooms.
Check with Grampian police and yes the trailer is stolen and our hawk-eyed car driver the true owner. One further check with the owner confirmed the nature of the alterations and after an examination of the offending trailer, it was unhitched from the van and reunited with its rightful owner.
Back to the van driver:
"Have you got any ID?"
"No lads eh've no got nae eh dee. Oh hang on a wee minitae. A've goat my bunk card."
Said bank card was duly produced confirming the name but it was pointed out to him it was not signed.
"Sorry lads, a've mihbee goat anither. Hang oan anither wee minitae"
Another bank card was then produced, also in his name and not surprisingly it wasn't signed either.
Off he went back to his van determined to find ID and prove who he was.
After some time, and just after we managed to update the control room our intrepid trailer resetter came bounding out of his van. A beaming smile contorted his face ( or was it just wind he was suffering) and flapping like a bird was something in his hand....... Settle!!!
"Look. Look. Eh kid prooove it. Eh kid prooove fa eh um."
As he approached the patrol car, he turned over the item in his hand and declared
"Ere's a photae oh ma young lad!!!"
To say we were amused is the biggest understatement of all time. Had it not been for the steering wheel I reckon Dave would actually have fallen out of he car, and I had to just drop my notebook and phone as I bawled with laughter which lasted long after our teuchter (pronounced tchoochter) chum was allowed away, to be reported in due course.
The Northern Lights? More like the Marlborough lights.
No comments:
Post a Comment