The Idler, Wednesday, February 18, 2015

A Bobby we all remember

A LONDON Metropolitan Police officer, PC Bob Brown, has 

retired after 47 years' service.

Two things comes to mind. One is that it's remarkable how after 

47 years he should still have been a PC – police constable – 

nothing like the rocket promotion some of our lot get. But he says 

that's all he ever wanted to be, a policeman on the beat with 

whistle and truncheon. He didn't want promotion.

The second is that, after 47 years on the beat in London, he must 

have a yarn or two to tell about South Africans he's encountered.

In fact there's something very familiar about him. Could this be the 

copper whose boot I almost ran over in Warwick Road?

I'd just picked up a second-hand A40 I'd bought and was 

driving back to Earl's Court with some pals. As a pedestrian you 

tend not to notice such things as one-way systems.

We swung right into Warwick Road – which is a very wide 

thoroughfare – to find it absolutely empty of traffic. But then we 

approached traffic lights with four lanes of vehicles strung across 

the road. The lights were red. Then they turned green.

At which I took the A40 right on to the pavement – and almost ran 

over the boot of a policeman on the beat who, I am now sure, must 

have been PC Brown.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm a visitor, I don't know the roads here."

"I wouldn't have thought so, sir."

He strode out, held up the traffic and let me make a U-turn.

You can't beat the London Bobbies for sang froid and humour. PC 

Bob Brown, enjoy your retirement!

Sissy

ON OUR front page yesterday we had that story about Sissy the Schnauzer who 

ran 20 blocks in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, in the US, to visit her sick owner in hospital.

What prompted that? How could she possibly have known her owner was there 

after undergoing a serious operation? Is there some kind of canine-human 

telepathy?

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your 

philosophy ..."

More kittens

READER Brenda Shepherd notes how quickly theatre personality 

Caroline Smart was able to find homes for the three kittens that 

invaded her house with their mother.

Brenda herself is playing host to two kittens born in the local 

Pick 'n Pay car park. They're socialised and lovely but she would 

like to find them homes.

Apparently people were queuing for Caroline's kittens so if they're 

still looking, here are two more.

Manie Blom

READERS Granny Joan and Colin McClean recall that the fellow 

who used to run on to the field at King's Park with a bunch of 

bananas was called Manie Blom.

That's quite correct. He was barman at the Stamford Hill Hotel, 

across the road from King's Park, and he performed this duty for 

many years.

After a sweeping bow to every quarter of the stadium, he would set 

off downfield, zigzagging and throwing dummies, then he'd dive 

over under then posts.

It brought the house down. So simple yet so effective. I can't recall 

anything similar anywhere else in the world. Why we jettisoned it, 

only the marketing gurus know.

Hooligans

IAN Gibson, poet laureate of Hillcrest, pens some lines on the 

goings-on in Parliament:

The EFFies are behaving like hooligans,

And should be sent back to school again;

But if Zuma'd come clean

And calmed down the scene,

We'd all be feeling strong again.

Tailpiece

SHERLOCK Holmes and Watson are out camping. It's 3am and 

the stars are ablaze and diamond-clear.

"Watson, observe the canopy of the heavens, the splendour of the 

firmament. What does it all tell you?"

"Astronomically, Holmes, it tells me of the millions upon millions 

of heavenly bodies that whirl in awe-inspiring majesty through the 

vastness of the universe.

"Astrologically, it tells me that Mars is in conjunction with Venus.

"Horologically, it tells me it is approximately 3 am.

"Theologically, it tells me of the greatness of God and the puny 

insignificance of man.

"Meteorologically, it tells me we will have a fine day.

"What does it tell you, Holmes?"

"My dear Watson, it tells me some blighter has stolen our tent!"

Last word

One man alone can be pretty dumb sometimes, but for real bona fide 

stupidity, there ain't nothin' can beat teamwork. 

Edward Abbey