Author Topic: Picked Up By The Fuzz  (Read 496 times)


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Picked Up By The Fuzz
« on: December 12, 2013, 09:52:28 AM »
The other evening I was guiding Mrs. saf to get her car out of a tight parking space. We were in a narrow lane close to the Silk Festival and motor bikes had parked right up to the vehicle at the front and back. I managed to move two out of the way with help from one of the lads standing around and she finally got the car into a position from which she could just about squeeze it past another bike into the road. A car came slowly along the lane and I raised a hand to ask the driver to stop to allow us to get the car out. He obliged. Then I felt a tightening around my chest. I was lifted  clear into the air and thrown to the roadside. I managed to keep on my feet and turned around to see a local bib about half my height telling me to bog off. I indicated in my best Anglo Saxon vocabulary that I was holding up the car so that my wife could get hers out of the parking space.  There followed a split second pause during which I thought that I would be offered accommodation for the night at the local cop shop. The officer looked again at the scene and said. 'Ok. Ok' and scuttled away.

'What was that about?', I asked Mrs. saf. She said that the officer thought that I was a drunk messing about in the road and hadn't noticed what was really happening.

All's well that ends well!

I have to say that our local police officers are always very friendly and helpful. Looking for a quiet life, I suppose.

Offline thaiga

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Re: Picked Up By The Fuzz
« Reply #1 on: December 12, 2013, 10:43:35 AM »
Nice one saf all's well that ends well - with the heading - picked up by the fuzz - i thought it was going to be a joke - Here goes...

There was this geriatric woman who thought she needed some toughening to cope with today's world, and decided to join a gang.

She rocked up to the Hell's Angels bikers club and tapped on the door. "Excuse me, sirs, I'd like to join your club if you please" she croaked in her feeble voice.

A grunt came from inside, "Ha! You got no chance, woman. We only take the toughest into our club. You can only join if you drink!"

"Oh boy, do I drink! I slam a few down every night after playing pool with the boys" she croaked back.

"Oh, umm, well... you can only join if you smoke" he lied, trying to brush her off.

"Does marijuana count? Coz I don't mind a few joints after playing pool with the boys".

"Umm, I suppose it does count..." the biker said, and, thinking quick on his feet said "Look, we're a gang only for the roughest, toughest men in town. Now, have you ever been picked up by the fuzz?"

"No," she replied, "but I've been swung around by the tits a few times". 

Anyone who goes to a psychiatrist should have his head examined.