Once upon a time I was a court reporter in a city with two sets of magisrates – one batch for city and one for rural areas.
I will say no more except that we had many hilarious liquid lunches in beween lunch breaks.
The Clerk of the Court was the man who told everbody what to do.
His powers were such that he once suggested an adjournment when a colleague broke wind.
Everytbody looked at me, but my oath it wasn’t...
All I did was have the giggles.
Oh, and we also collected a quid on expenses for lunch.
Anyway, the story unfolded thus.
This pretty lady was in her seat at the pictures one mid-aftertoon with few other people around, she thought it strange when the defendant came round and sat next her.
After a brief period he nudged her.
She half-turned, looked down and saw that he was fully exposed.
She screamed, and an usherette appeared.
Her powerful torch picked it out like a German Zeppelin caught in a British searchlight.
Now, it was the prosecutor’s duty to try to establish the, er, magnitude of the offence.
Like the brand new bobby of today he wasn’t up to the job.
He didn’t know how to phrase this delicate question without blowing his embassment gasket.
At this point the head beak stuck his oar it.
We all knew him of old.
He would far prefer to maintain his legendary reputation rather than help out a young and inexperienced proscecutor.
“Tell us madam, was he in a state of excitement”, he asked?
“We,” replied madam, confused by this intercession from on high. “It was rather a dull film.”
“No, no, no madam”, he said impatiently.
“What was it like?”
At this point the ladies and gentleman of the press were within a millimetre of exploding.
Then what came next pressed the red button.
“Oh, that,” she said. ,”It was very good indeed....”