The dispatcher asks to speak to the father, who then comes on the line laughing in embarrassment and apologising.
They left it at that. One hopes the kid is not growing up into an inveterate snitch.
THE lid of one of Britain's oldest football cups – the Saturday County Cup, played for in the North Riding of Yorkshire - has gone missing.
The cup has been played for since 1880, according to the BBC, but the lid went missing sometime between the 1960s and the 1980s.
The local football association are now appealing for information as to what might have happened to it, presuming it is now a trophy on somebody's mantelpiece or some such place.
The plan is to put the cup on display in the National Football Museum in Manchester, but it is very much lacking without its lid.
Dave Roberts of the North Riding FA says: "We believe it's the second oldest cup in the world that's been continuously played for. There is one problem, we've lost the lid.
"We need to find a hero. There is a hero out there who knows something about the lid, either about its demise, or it's hanging on a wall or is on a mantelpiece."
They could get another lid made, but there's no need to rush – otherwise they could end up with a cup with two lids.
That's what happened with the York and Lancaster Cup (rugby) in Maritzburg. It was presented by the York and Lancaster regiment - who had been garrisoned in the capital and played rugby in the local league - when they left after Union in 1910.
Then the lid went missing. It was remade using photographs of the trophy. Then the missing lid turned up again. So the York and Lancaster Cup now has two lids.
I suppose it would be asking too much of coincidence for that spare lid to fit the Saturday County Cup.
MURPHY is a gifted portrait artist. People from all over Ireland come to his home at Miltown Malbay, in County Clare, to get him to paint their likeness.
Then one day a beautiful English actress arrives in a Rolls Royce and asks him to paint her in the nude. Money is no object, she says. Would £10 000 do?
Murphy says he must consult with his good wife. They discuss the rights and wrongs of it in the kitchen, and then he returns to the actress.
"T'would be me pleasure to paint yer portrait, missus. De wife says it's okay. I'll paint you in de nude all right; but one condition. I have to at least leave me socks on, so I have a place to wipe me brushes."
Excess on occasion is exhilarating. It prevents moderation from acquiring the deadening effect of a habit.