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With the Metropolitan Police struggling to win over the hearts and minds of the public, let alone solve slam-dunk cases, they have decided to take a leaf out of regional police force methods and co-opt clerics to assist CID detectives.


'We're aware that some less populated areas have had considerable success by allowing Catholic Priests and C of E Vicars assist in murder enquiries,' said a Met spokesman today.  'Indeed, if my research is correct, the clerics seem to find the important piece of incriminating evidence in most cases, despite zero forensic or investigative training,' he added.


He noted there were no known examples of Imams or Sikh scripture readers assisting the police, then qualified that by adding 'in an investigative role, anyway,' but said the Met were open to considering them. Especially if the BBC were to produce any more hard hitting documentaries like the ones he had seen based in the criminal hotbeds of Kembleford and the inner city rough area called Grantchester.


'You can see how effective the clerics are if you use iPlayer on catch-up, possibly on Dave,' he said. 


Unfortunately the spokesman wasn't available for follow-up interview questions due to disappearing shortly after a meeting in his Chief Superintendents' office.  Two nuns and a recently defrocked priest are helping the Met to get to the bottom of the mystery, and the full investigation is expected to be shown on ITV3 later this year.



Image credit: perchance.org


Colin Oscar Pee, a well-known local character, is celebrating finding his one millionth elastic band on the pavements of his town.


‘I started collecting rubber bands when I was eight,’ said Colin, ‘because I knew that they were dangerous to birds and small mammals, but mainly because I didn’t have any friends. I picked them up on my way to school, on my way to do graffiti behind the pub, and on my trips to do shoplifting.  I never thought that my collection would grow to be of international significance.’


Parish councillor Bernard Dredge says that the rubber band collection has put the town on the map.  But not in a good way.  According to him ‘International significance’ is definitely stretching it.


‘I find rubber bands every day,’ said Colin.  ‘They are usually on the pavement, sometimes in the gutter and sometimes on driveways. They are never in the same place twice, so I have to be on the lookout all the time, to make sure that I don’t miss any.  Some people think it’s unhygienic to pick them up, but I disinfect them in a dustbin before adding them to my collection, so that they don’t smell.’  The collection now fills six rooms in Colin’s parent’s house, a double garage and the shed. ‘I’ve sorted them by size,’ says Colin, animatedly.  'I'm saving up to start a museum, to show them off properly.'


Colin does not know where the rubber bands come from, but there are always more each day, except on Sundays and Bank Holidays.  ‘They might be brought here by birds, who think they are worms.  But then they drop them because they are too chewy.  Or they might be pinged out of the windows of passing cars.  Or perhaps there is a rubber-clad rubber band fairy who brings them?  Nobody knows.  It’s a mystery.’


Colin is 58.


A spokesman for the Royal Mail was unavailable for comment.



Image credit: perchance.org







The Northern Ireland Assembly, which only today resumed business after a two year hiatus, has unfortunately broken up again in a row about whether members should be served tea or coffee during debates.


'My community has enjoyed the Great British cup of tea for generations,' bellowed Dr Ian Wingnut of the Demented Unstable Party. 'If my legitimate and peaceful demand for tea is not met, there will be violent reprisals.'


'Tea is a British imperialist imposition and my community utterly rejects it,' snarled Spuddy Spud McSpudderson of the Definitely No Links To Terrorists Party. 'Give me coffee - preferably a decaf latte, no sugar - or give me death.'


At this point, Fionnula Sandalista of the centrist Alliance party suggested that perhaps members could choose whether they preferred tea or coffee on an individual basis. This was immediately denounced as "drift" and 'moral relativism' by both the main parties.


The situation was almost resolved when the caretaker announced that power to the building was cut off during the hiatus and hadn’t been restored yet, so hot drinks of any kind were impossible. He offered to nip out to a coffee shop for them, only for the assembly to break up in an acrimonious row about whether they preferred Caffè Nero or Costa.




First published 5 Feb 2024


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