Focus On Crime.
Maidstone, Kent. June 7th, 2002:
It is 08:30 in the morning.
The internationally famous pianist Richard Clayderman is going to post a letter. He is crossing Maidstone high street when he falls down a manhole and gets stuck. His top half protrudes out into the high street and while his bottom half dangles into the town sewer.
Here is our artists' impression. What were you doing at this time? Perhaps you were there? Do you remember seeing the top half of Richard Clayderman sticking up into Maidstone high street, hairy, yet stylish, like a talented cocker spaniel? If this jogs your memory, please call Maidstone police on 02222 2222222 22 222 22 22 22222 2 222. This is a special hotline set up by Detective Inspector Borloks and there is no electricity involved, so you do not need to wear special gloves when using the phone.
Detective inspector Borloks, this is a most unusual incident isn't it?
Yes. Mr. Clayderman was stuck for over 7 hours and no one came to his assistance. In fact, CCTV shows that some school children approached Mr Clayderman and, instead of offering help, cheery songs or companionship, they simply covered his head with raisins.
With raisins? Inspector Borloks... can this be true?
Yes. Sadly, in todays society, it seems that no one can go outside to post a letter without getting their head covered in raisins.
It was a packet of raisins similar to this one, wasn't it Inspector Borloks?
Similar, yes. However, the arrangement of the particular raisins inside the packet may have been different.
Have you seen a packet of raisins like this one? Have you, perhaps, eaten one of these raisins? Perhaps a friend has offered you one recently. If so, please call Maidstone police immediately. And remember, you must use the telephone. There is no point in writing your message on an orange and throwing it as hard as you can in the general direction of Maidstone, is there Inspector Borloks?
No. No point at all. It simply litters the street with oranges and confuses the bin men.
Of course, Mr. Clayderman was eventually rescued by trained specialists. Heavy duty explosives were packed densly in the sewer beneath his feet and set off by Prince Charles in a special ceremony attended by Elton John and the Pope. Well wishers were disappointed, however, when, instead of being on hand to sign autographs, Mr Clayderman shot 798 feet into the air and disappeared into the English channel in a huge yet graceful arc.
Buckingham Palace, London. June 7th 2002.
It is 08:30 in the morning.
Palace security are surprised to discover that an intruder has stolen one of the royal corgi's, taken it to the kitchen and is inflating it with a bicycle pump.
Inspector Borloks, this is a particularly nasty crime on an unsuspecting dog, isn't it?
Yes. And it was only after the corgi began to float that police realised the man was using Helium gas.
Was the Queen involved?
Yes. She was in the same building.
And how did she react?
She reacted by continued sleeping in a royal yet gracious manner. The Corgi, however, was less fortunate. It floated out of an upstairs window in the palace and drifted eastwards across St. James' Park.
Was Cliff Richard involved?
Not this time.
Here is our artists' impression. What were you doing at this time? Perhaps you were there? Do you remember seeing a Corgi the size of a small dirigible floating past you in an eastwards direction? Perhaps you thought nothing of it at the time. Sometimes people can confuse these things with a publicity stunt by that Richard Branson, advertising his pickles again. Look at this picture. That big round thing is the corgi. Those stubby little bits are its legs. In the background is Buckingham Palace, and there in the window you can see the Queen, calling for her lost dog and majestically dabbing her eyes with a royal handkerchief. Beside her, look, is Prince Philip, who, bound by duty, is randomly shooting at pigeons in some kind of weird revenge ritual. Did you see something like this? If this jogs your memory, Maidstone police would be very interested to hear from you. 02222 2222222 22 222 22 22 22222 2 222.
And now it is time for Detective Dribble's collection corner. Detective Dribble, what stuff have people had nicked off them this week and not even noticed?
Well, this week we have some fluff, ninety seven tons of bananas and a Robin Reliant. Maidstone police yesterday apprehended this man. Known as Jimmy the Beard, he would often break into peoples houses at night and tickle their pets. He's now safely behind bars, but Maidstone police would like to trace the owner of these: a loofah, a packet of custard creams, a priceless original painting be Vermeer called 'Lady sitting by a window not doing much', a lumpy looking thing and an inflated corgi the size of a dirigible.
You mean, Dribble, some idiots have had has this all stuff nicked and not even noticed?
Looks that way, certainly, though perhaps they didn't want it much in the first place.
I don't know, they must be lunatics or something.
Probably criminals, or raisin addicts.
Anyway, that's it for now. And, please remember, crimes like these are very rare. Only one in five pianists a year falls down a manhole. So, don't have nightmares. Don't, for instance, dream you are a naked raisin being attacked by an overwrought banana. That would be stupid, and a complete waste of police time. So, have a really nice sleep, yeah? Honestly - you're sure to wake up in the morning, right as rain. It is statistically very unlikely that someone is going to break into your house and saw your leg off during the night. Of course, it might happen, but there's not much you can do about it, can you? And having nightmares certainly won't help. I mean, even if you lock the door and then hammer it shut with nails, you can't be one hundred percent sure that your leg will be there in the morning. So, just forget about it, lighten up, listen to some light classical jazz and eat some cornflakes. And do sleep well. In fact, go to bed now. That's safest. Otherwise I might do this: "Wooooooaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!". See? That wasn't very pleasant now was it? So, go to bed now, before I do it again. Yes - go on then. Nighty-night.