The 86 hour Christmas shift in Security Control Room
In my ten years with the company, I had never had a day off sick, and had only been late on duty once.
With so many of the lads knocking off with sickies, and then my fellow controller joining them, I ended up working straight through for 86 hours over the holiday period.
One of the supervisors brought me in a Christmas dinner, and the night men took me off for two hours each night shift so I could wash shave and have a nod to keep going.
The Operations Manager thanked me profusely.
The Owner thanked me.
The Night Manager offered his appreciation for my commitment.
Two weeks later I was made redundant as they had out-sourced the control room duties to save cash in their effort for financial survival.
After a couple of years of being sneered at and ignored by the Job Centre plus people I gave up trying to find another job at 64 years of age.
I am now happier with my life (Using the term loosely) than I have ever been.
The hernia then the heart operation, angina, arthritis, haemorrhoids, cancer of the bowel, duodenal ulcer, torn Intercostal muscle, going deaf, and slowly losing my sanity is okay to me – as long as I do not lose me laptop, internet connection or Cyber-friends.
After my being on the minimum wage for so long, it came as a surprise to me when the boss asked if I’d like to do a higher paid assignment for that day.
I jumped at the chance.
Then it came to light that it was a Prisoner Escort job, with an increase of a mammoth 15p per hour!
I was to drive our companies pretend security van to pick up a prisoner from Nottingham clink, and drive him to the Queens Medical Centre for treatment on his arm he injured with a fight with another prisoner. Nice!
After my credentials were checked, a prison officer who was about 6’2” tall and a prisoner that dwarfed him, climbed into the back of the van.
He placed the route plan on the dashboard of my security companies battered old Transit.
Then gave me an RT to use in the event of any emergency.
The Prison Officer explained the duties required of me.
Amongst which: The prisoner was to be handcuffed at all times other than when he was being treated, then one of us must be by his side at all times.
It went okay at the QMC, we were leapfrogged ahead of the other patients – and the giant of a prisoner was tended to in no time.
As we were leaving by the authorised route, a shuddering came from the transit… we ground to a a halt.
The Officer got out to investigate, and informed me the whole tyre had shredded on the off side front.
Of course being the super-efficient security company we were, there was no spare in the van!
He said he’d check and inform the prisoner in the back, and I was to RT in to inform their control, then phone my security company for an immediate replacement.
So I radiod in our plight.
Then minutes later, as I was dialling to call our control room for a replacement vehicle (that I knew didn’t exist), the arrival of three police vehicles that blocked the front and rear of us, and armed officers stationing themselves a various advantage points – all within seconds – confused me somewhat!
Within minutes there were more police vehicles than I thought existed all around us.
The Prison Officer had forgotten to tell me that if a certain two words (changed daily apparently) were used in any message to their control, they were taken as meaning ‘Urgent/Emergency situation back-up required’
Of course muggings here had unknowingly used those two words in my message!
The prisoner thought it was all hilarious.
The Officer was in deep phoo phoo!
My company somehow kept the contract as emergency transport provider for the Prison Service.
I was never chosen for those duties again.
I had to attend police headquarters for an in depth interview and make a statement and I didn’t get paid for it by the company.
I spoke with the Security Manager:
“How come I’m not being paid for going to the police to make a statement then?”
“Worrif yer was a witness under normal circumstances and you had give em a statement then?”
“What do mean boss?”
“Well you couldn’t expect me to pay yer then could yer?”
“I could if it were on me shift time yea!”
“Are but I did pay yer fer you shift din’t we!”
“Well wot yer moaning abarght?”
“It happened after me shift time dint it!”
“I dint tell yer to do it did I?”
“No, but they did dint they?”
“Who pays yer @#&*ing wages then? I do!”
“But yer dint did yer!”
“Yer, for the full shift yer ungrateful little bleeder!”
“But not fer the interview!”
“The interview with the police to give me statement!”
” I didn’t tell yer to do it did I?”
“No they did!”
“Let them pay yer then, cause I sure as “%}k ain’t goin’ to!”
Rapid Response Alarm Officer Inchcock & The night of the Bank Manager’s Home Alarm Activation
I was on Alarm Response and Patrol checks this particular night. Anyone could usually tell when I was on these duties because the amount of alarm activations usually doubled when I was on this roster. Tsk!
About 2345hrs I was in Long Eaton near Derby carrying out one of the regular site checks when I got a call to inform me that an alarm had been activated at a house in North Nottingham. I knew the house as it is on our Patrol list for checks at the weekends, and owned by a bank manager.
I made my way towards Beeston then onto the ring road when I got another call from the controller to advise me that a second activation had been received making it a positive and the Police had been informed, but they told him that “We have no free units to respond, but will do when one is free.”
Nice… very encouraging that.
I arrived at the assignment address about 30 minutes after getting the call. A great big house with two gates and dozens of rooms.
I informed control of my arrival and that no outward signs of intrusion seen at the front and I was going to check the rear of the premises first.
I got the keys and codes from the van safe, locked the van, took a deep breath and walked to the back of the sprawling house.
1220hrs: I moved away from the window and informed control of the suspect on premises situation and he despatched the other patrol officer Darren as back-up support being as the Nottingham Police still had no one to send.
So I waited and observed monitoring for any activity.
I then saw the torchlight in a ground floor window and continued my observing.
Daz arrived asking where is the scum-bag, let’s gerrim…
After we gained entry through the front door and deactivated the alarm
Darren called out “Alright scum-bag, let be X#~♫ having yer… come on give up or my mate will come and get yer…”
I recall thinking ‘Oh no he wont!’
A bloke appeared though a door and came running at us calling out “I’ve called the police… he pulled up short and lowered his mashie niblick when he saw our uniform and the size of Darren… who did not take to be attacked and he belted the chap with left-hook of Henry Cooper quality.
As I was about to challenge Daz on why he clobbered him as it was obvious the chap was not an intruder but the bank manager when the door behind us burst open and the police officers entered, batons drawn and wrestled me an Darren onto the floor and we were hancuffed – I remember a canine officer being displeased with his animal when it licked me on the face when they were getting me up after being handcuffed.
Now we were in a pickle I thought.
Luckily my solver tongue explained what had happened in between my asking then telling Daz to keep quite.
The paramedics arrived and the bank manager was taken away for checks although he seemed alright, was very quiet and didn’t seem to hold any grudge against us?
When the officers and Darren had left, I did a check of the premises for any intruders, I could see the fuse box was open at the cellar head, so assumed that was the reason the torchlight was used? No signs of why the alarm activated were found and it reset without any bother later.
When I checked each room upstairs the third bedroom… well it opened my eyes I can tell yers… A four-poster bed with red and pink adornments, leather straps, handcuffs and a giant plastic prodding fork lay on the bed? Five TV or monitor screens were scattered around the room, and a gigantic mirror on the ceiling! No signs any bodies anywhere though.
Then I informed control all was clear and reset the alarm and secured the premises.
Sat in the van doing the incident report – one of the hardest I’ve ever had to do.
The Barclays bank manager didn’t complain at all – which was puzzling and unexpected, but comforting.
The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Security Career Woes
Guarding the Turkey Farm Episode
I was posted one November, to a farm near Kinoulton in Nottinghamshire, assigned to protect the Turkeys being fattened in time for Christmas – of which many had been nicked by the naughty Nottinghomians.
As usual the assignment instructions were vague and lacking in detail.
When I arrived, it turned out I was required to drive between two location throughout the night, and try to count the Turkeys to ascertain if any had been stolen, and secure the premises and report it if they had.
One site was on the farm, and had 50 birds, the other site was at an old graveyard the farmer had bought, and was using temporarily as a hold for the birds, this one held 38 birds.
I was given an old Land Rover to do the patrols in, and offered the use of a kitchen in an abandoned cottage to get refreshments, and do my ablutions.
The farmer said he would be checking with me regularly throughout the night.
Counting turkeys is not easy.
I found the best way was to creep silently as possible up on them, and count them from a distance. Once they were disturbed, it was all but impossible to count them.. and the noise!
On about my third visit to the graveyard site, I could count only 49 birds, so I radioed in with the details, and parked under a tree to observe the site for a while in case anyone was still on site or might return for more birds.
I counted them again after about half an hour – and found there were now 50 birds!
Confused, I was determined to sort out this anomaly, and again counted them, 49 this time!
I entered the gate, and disturbed the noisy birds, in an effort to assess just how many there were. As I was doing this, the owner arrived and we did a count together – there were 49 again this time!
He joined me in the Land Rover to observe the site. He offered me a drink of Jameson’s Irish Whiskey from his quarter bottle. Tempted as I was, I had to refuse.
He told me that he too had found different counts during the same day.
We entered the fenced off graveyard once again to count them, and that was when I saw the mausoleum top, and broken down door in it!
The Turkeys had been going down into the vault, making the count vary!
The farmer was well pleased, and we drove back to the farmhouse, and he fed me with bacon, eggs, and home baked bread, with a strong cup of tea! Thanked me again for sorting it out, and was very happy.
I returned the next night for my duties and checked the mausoleum gates and doors first – and detected some movement in the darkness from the top of the mausoleum, being fit and foolish in those days (Nowadays I’m just foolish) I climbed up onto the top, RT in hand and found two turkeys clambering around.
I was relieved that it wasn’t an intruder, but puzzled as to how they managed to get up there – and how was I to get them down again…?
As I stood there pondering about these things a solution came all on its own accord…
The roof collapsed and me and the turkeys were transported downwards landing inside the building… When the dust had settled I made out the shape of the farmer as he stood over me.
I was no longer in favour I could tell, then as I tried to stand up the coffin I was unknowingly standing on disintegrated… the farmer was no longer happy.
Not one of my best nights in the Security industry that…
The Irish, Scottish and English Security Guards and the Moonlight Dip!
I’d been working nights as was usual, guarding the old Victoria Station hotel on Milton Street in Nottingham that was being refurbished, along with my colleague ‘Mad’ Mick, for about a month.
We had suffered with the antics of drinkers coming out of the nightclubs in the early hours, and the client had added an extra guard.
Control sent us Andrew, thus making up The Irishman, Mick, the Scotsman Andrew, and the Englishman, me.
The assignment instructions required one officer out of the security cabin at all times, and inside patrolling the building.
Another patrolling the frontage and one in the cabin at all times.
This particular night, it was my turn to be based in the porta-cabin with the RT, Andrew to patrol the front of the the site.
Mick had gone into the building on patrol, and we had agreed he was to return to the cabin at 1100hrs, to swap with Andrew. By 1115hrs, with no response to my calls to him on the RT, I informed control, and Andrew went inside to check on Mick’s status.
Half an hour later, no contact with either officer, I asked for back-up from control. (None available)
Now I was in a dilemma! If I left the frontage to go in and search, I’d leave all the equipment and tools at risk, if I called the police, control would not be happy… As I pondered my response, Andrew turned up, telling me that Mick was in the swimming pool in the basement, having a whale of a time.
So I thought, (bravely) it was my duty as site supervisor, to fetch him out and bollock him.
I told Andrew to stay at the front and keep his RT on, and I wended my way down through the maze of narrow stairs to the newly built heated swimmng pool.
I found a broadly smiling Mick getting back into his uniform after his moonlight swim. I stood staring straight ahead at his belt buckle which was at my chin level (He was a big lad) and pretended to tell him off.
The RT burst into life. It was Andrew, informing us that the Night Manager had just turned up!
At that precise time, a loud crack was heard from the cellar at the back near where the train lines ran.
I informed Andrew on the RT that we were going to take a look.
Mick and I went to investigate, we saw steam as we approached the door to that cellar, I tested the door for heat with the back of my hand, then gingerly opened the door… to be confronted by three balaclava wearing intruders who had just broken through into the cellar, bursting some hot water pipes en route.
Whether we were more surprised or they were, I cannot say.
Mick was struggling with one of the men as I got a clout on the head with something hard, a bar of some kind I think it was, then thank heavens Andrew and the Night Manager arrived on the scene, quickly followed by the police with a dog.
One of the very few times we were actually able to assist in the capture of any criminals.
I had to refuse the kind offer from the ambulance man to take me in for a quick check-up as the client was en-route and was not pleased apparently the Night Manager told me?
We came out of it with flying colours, and Mick and Andrew each got a commendation from the Chief Constable. (Why not I? I’ll never know!)
I hate to think what the outcome might have been if Mick hadn’t taken his moonlight dip!
That is how the manager described the duties to me when telling me what assignment I was on the following night.
Night Binocular Observation and Report is what he meant.
There were two of us were to be based in a field, opposite a Garden Centre just outside of Nottingham.
The criminal elements had hit it three times in a week.
We were given a quick run-down on how to operate the night Binoculars, and sent as soon as it got dark, to the field opposite the entrance to the Garden centre.
We parked the van behind some trees in the field, and settled down in the ditch at the roadside to carry out our Night Noc Ob & Rep Assignment. We were to observe the main gates and site for any signs of intrusion. In the event of any such occurrence, we were to summon the police, and try to bar the escape routes of the raiders until the police arrived, if safe to do so.
It was very windy, and after about two hours or so, the rain belted down. We discussed whether we should get into the van, but decided against it, as if anything happened and we missed it, we would really get it in the neck.
Trevor, the chap on duty with me was a big confident lad, and this gave me some confidence that we would prevail if anything kicked off.
But there were no signs of any intrusion at the premises all night,
All had been quiet.
About 0330hrs, Trev said he’d go to the van and get our nosh and flasks. I gave him the keys, and awaited his return.
When he did return, not carrying any fodder, he leant down to my head level and whispered: “Fuck me, the some bastard’s nicked the bleedin’ van!”
Inchcock had been assigned as Static Guard for the Rempstone College, out in the wilds.
His responsibilities were many-fold, the fishing lake, Tennis courts, Golf area, 5 residential blocks a bank, a theatre, Liecestershire Police undercover car compound and ARV storage shed, library, church yard & Cemetery, Roman gardens, 2 bars, Artwork galleries, tutors quarters, classrooms, computer room, archive room, cellars, restaurants, games rooms, 550 student quarters, a Lido and Money safes to name a few.
A cold and lonely place at night, especially when the students and staff were on holiday as on this night.
He was the only person on the 8 acre site… or should have been.
At 0105hrs on patrol and the wind blew hard across the decaying graffiti’d gravestone littered cemetery…
Creating unholy noises, and blowing up the Guard Inchcock’s trouser legs something rotten, as he made his way across the used condoms, broken spirit and mentholated spirit bottles scattered generously amongst the dog droppings, coke cans, and maggot ridden dead rats along the path on his way to swipe the electronic Security check point, thoughtfully super-glued on the side of child’s headstone.
As he scrambled over the broken park benches, and rubbed the mould-growth from his uniform, he heard a loud bang, emanating he thought, from the end of the nursery drive, in the area of the undercover police car compound.
The customary tightening of the urine valves took place, as he stood still to try and listen over the wind, for any more unusual noises, but none came.
Being one of the more reliable Guards (or so he thought) he decided further investigation call called for – following his Assignment instructions, as well as Sito’s guide lines, he called for back up… well he tried to but the phone network had gone down! (Sods-law or what?)
He walked, using whatever natural cover was available, down the dark dank windy lane towards the gates of the Leicestershire Police undercover car compound, using his intrinsic skills to keep the noise to minimum…. until he stubbed his toe on some broken concrete, then the silent approach had to be abandoned when he exclaimed a loud clear ‘Bollocks!’ into the night wind as a response to the sharp pain he’d accrued.
So, out came the mag-light, he pulled himself up to show his full 5’ 3” of height and swaggered into the middle of the drive, so as to appear brave and dangerous to any possible intruder.
He passed wind and increased his walking rate, putting on his well known bravado swank, and talking loudly into the dead mobile phone…. “ETA ten minute control? …. Silence for a while to give the impression he was listening to someone on the other end of the one-way conversation…… “Roger, but don’t let the canine run free, I have residents returning home all night”…… “I’ll do a quick check, he knows the code for the gate… thanks, out!”
Feeling proud of this instantly thought up subterfuge, that foolishly gave him heart and assurance in his puny skills, the Inchcock moved on showing great confidence, and reached the gates of the Leicestershire Constabulary Undercover Vehicle Compound.
He had no key of course, but luckily the gates were in the same state as the cemetery furniture – rotting and presenting some handy holes through which he could shine his torch, still leaving room for him to get his head through!
All looked in order, but being the perfectionist he is, our Guard decided to climb through into the compound, to satisfy himself that no intrusion had taken place and all really was well. (The fool!)
Once inside, he realised the vast extent of the premises, at least 100 vehicles of all types scattered around.
So he turned off his torch, and used the shadows to creep around in on his self righteous mission to protect the property of our beloved officers of the law!
About a third of way around, and in the centre of the vehicles, he felt something moving about at his feet from under a van, he whipped out his mag-light and shone it down…… just in time to see the blood being drawn from his leg by the police dog, as it began to try and devour his left ankle. (He still has the scars, Inchcock that is not the police dog).
To this day he’s not sure how he managed to get out of there, but he did.
Granted he was minus his mag-light, part of his trouser legs, bits of his sock, his cap, his mobile phone, a portion on ankle flesh, and a few fluid ounces of blood, but he got out!
Only to be met by the fast arriving police cars pulling up in response as it transpired to the PIR alarm activation of the new system put in the night before on the compound, that no one had informed our hero about, otherwise he would not have set it off by going into the compound!
They could hardly administer the first aid due to their laughter.
Inchcock was relatively new to the Security Industry, and thought to himself: “It can’t be as bad as this every-night surely?”
It could and would be over the coming years.
The moral is….er….well, it must be in there somewhere I’m sure!
It was a dark, dank, overcast night, with a roving light mist coming and going, interspersed with a get-you-soaking-wet light drizzling rain.
I was assigned to a site that was about 14 miles out of Nottingham, in the unforgiving countryside, with nothing but the bats, fox’s and the occasional escaped pig from the nearby farms to talk to.
A large site, a factory, storage sheds, garage, an annexe, offices, farm vehicle storage field, HGV parking lot, and a lot of unsecured fencing.
I was achieving my usual full job satisfaction, as I patrolled the main building, the annexe, the 43 parked up lorries, the millions of pounds worth of new farm machinery, the main annexe ¼ of a mile down the country lane, completed my 18 swipe points, as I then tripped over the crumbling pathway that was immersed in rainwater, then nearly slipped over on the muddy course grass rain-filled ditch, the wild grass was so long it hid the craters and holes scattered all over the site.
I checked the vehicle wash, and then the fuel station, (swiping my last point) and turned to start my return marathon to the main building and my dust covered, waterless, windowless, holes in the floor-board ridden guard base.
About half way back up the hill, ducking to avoid an owl or a bat or whatever it was that dived bombed at me, I noticed a torch light coming from the middle of the sewerage field at the back of the transport offices – now, I had a quandary!
Although already in a state, should I actually go over the ditch and into the field to find out what was going on?
I decided I could not dismiss this possible sign of attempted intrusion, being the professional I am. (Ahem)
I positioned myself behind the porta-cabins, and decided the ditch was easy enough to jump over into the field, and it was too – the only problem was I had not seen the barbed wire on the other side – until I landed in it!
After extricating myself and most of my trousers from the barbed wire, I jumped back over the ditch – and to this day – the memory of that shoe dropping into the sewerage ditch as I leapt, then sinking out of sight, never to be seen again, made me glad it was only the shoe and not me!
I hobbled back to the guard base, cleaned up the wounds with the last of my bottled water, and used up the last few plasters from my cars first aid kit – as the fire alarm activated!
So, one shoe on and one shoe off, I investigated, only to find the ‘Bale area’ sprinklers had activated, and found myself paddling through about 8 inches of very cold water, but no fire was found.
The alarm panel reset OK, and I unblocked the drains to allow the water to slowly draw away, taking my last few plasters that had been soaked off of my bleeding legs along with it!
So back to depressing guard base to complete the by now, several incidents reports that needed doing.
While doing this, I put my bleeding feet and legs up on a tatty broken chair, in an effort to slow down the bleeding, when I heard the sound of the horn sounding from an approaching vehicle at the main gate.
I hobbled out through the factory, into the yard, limping down to the gate to give admission to the Night Manager, Mr Collins, who was very annoyed to find out I had no water to make him a cup of coffee!
But this didn’t prevent him from carrying out his duty of care obligations in question to my injuries, as soon as he’d stopped laughing he passed wind, then he offered his worldly advice as such: “‘Ave that looked at leg when yer gerra day off, un don’t forget to do an incident report (I’d just handed him all three, 5 minutes earlier).
Concerned for how I would drive home safely with no right boot on, we searched around and found one old right footed, rock hard, smelly old trainer shoe in the rubbish bin in the showers, and I drove home with a wet muddy left hand boot on, and a rock hard right footed trainer.
The lost boot was never seen again!
Just another normal day for Security Guard Inchcock really!
Inchcock looking a lot more cheerful today after his morning medications
As we at the Inchy’s True Tales of Woe Corn-plaster Appreciation Society move temporarily into Inchcock’s Security Career Woes, let’s take a moment to reflect for a moment on the earlier true masterpieces formulated from the memory of the insanitary, bald old chap’s tormented mind.
We know he was born a bloodied Park Drive cigarette ash covered unwanted little 3lb 3oz mite. Let’s face it, his mother and the mid-wife told him it was so.
But did it discourage our little hero? Well apart from the suicide attempt, and the rampant depression like.
Today in his twilight years, as he searches and hopes to find anyone other than Benefit office staff, bus drivers and shopkeepers who will talk to him, he has (He tells me), found a minuscule but certain iota of acceptance of his fate and Woes. How did he manage this you might ask? (If you don’t ask, please proceed to the main body of this True Tales of Woe Part 23)
Inchcock himself explains:
“Well, yer see midduck, I thought if I don’t not expect owt good to happen, I cud accept the things that ain’t good like, yer see?”
Security Guard Inchy – Has to call for backup
I was working as a static security guard in Nottingham, at a furniture making factory.
The company had asked for a security officer, as an end wall to the factory, had been hit by a fork lift, and it had collapsed. So security was well and truly compromised, and they required cover over the night until it could be repaired or rebuilt.
I was summoned from my first night off in fourteen days to attend.
The night manager met me there, and took me on a quick walk around the site, as it started to pour down with rain.
He warned me that the RT (Radio Transmitter) did not work well in that area, nor did the mobile phone.
I was based in an old dilapidated office near the entrance gates, with a land-line phone that did not work. A cold outside tap and an electric kettle that leaked and a holed roof.
The unit was at the end of a cul-de-sac, they had sensor lights in the lorry yard, as I found out on my first patrol, I also discovered that in the centre of the yard, the RT worked a little better, so decided I’d make my check calls through the night from that spot.
The night manager called at the site about 0030hrs for a sit-rep, and kindly freed me of the problem I was having of whether to eat my shortcake biscuits now or later, by consuming them himself.
Off he shot into the night, it began to rain again, I relocked the gates, and realised I was a little late with my regular check call to the control room – so I walked into the centre of the lorry park yard to make the call. While doing so, the sensor lights came on, and lit up the sight of two male bodies at the far end of the site near the damaged wall!
I asked for back up, as the two bodies went in different directions, one I saw jump over the fencing.
I waited near the gate, and the back-up arrived in the form of Mick, a mobile patrol officer along with his white Alsatian bitch dog, named ‘Belle’.
I opened the gate to let them in, then relocked it, and joined them as he was letting the bitch out of the van. I gave him a quick explanation of events, and the three of us were walking down the yard to the area where I’d last seen the missing intruder.
It was at that point that I realised the dog was chewing on my right ankle as we walked! Mick laughed, I cursed ‘Belle’, and she just growled a bit in my direction and looked at me with a puzzled expression!
We moved on to where they had placed stacks of pallets in place of the wall. I moved towards the pallets, to see if I could find any rain made footprints on them, to identify whether the intruder had or had not climbed or tried to climb over the pallets into the factory.
There were no footprints, but as I was returning into the yard, I noticed a large drain cover was dislodged in the yard. I pointed this out to Mick, who also thought it possible that the intruder had hid himself under the drain cover – so I bent down, and as I shone my torchlight into the depths… ‘Belle’ decided to chew on my left hand this time!
More laughter from Mick. More cursing from me. Oh, and tail wagging from Belle as she gnawed away at me limb ensued.’
There were no signs of the intruder in the drains.
At this point I told Mick top get the ‘…king dog back in his van.
A visual check of the site brought no signs of the intruder, and we walked back to the vehicle at the gates, to find that the night manager was sat outside trying to get our attention to offer further support.
Mick and ‘Belle’ departed, and the boss came in.
He looked at my leg and hand, and went to get the first-aid kit out of his van. I followed him out of the office and down the steps towards the gate where he’d parked, and slipped on a wet step, going arse-over-tit onto the concrete path, cutting and bruising my right knee!
I was really concerned that the Night Manager might do himself an injury – because he laughed so load and much!
By then, I was genuinely concerned for the health of the night manager, as he was laughing so much!
The boss managed to contain his merriment long enough to treat the wounds, and as he was about to leave site, two police officers arrived and they all came in for a cuppa, and finished off me shortcakes whilst laughing energetically at my downfall!
It was an awfully long time before for the other lads stopped the jibes. You’d be amazed at the ingenious ways they brought ‘bite’, ‘dog’, ‘bell’, ‘Wood-Would’ and ‘blood’ into the conversations!
When they had all gone, I secured the gates and started on a patrol of the site, as it started to thunder and lightning… guess who got hit my the lightning?