Hey, The Police. I'm Doing Your Jobs Here

Hello, The Police. I realise it’s hard being a The Policeman, so I’m taking time out to help you with your enquiries.
Alton Towers haven’t used their Cine 360 since 1985, so let’s use it to fool killers into confessing. First, send every suspected murderer an invitation to a special screening of a mystery new film. I chose a mystery film because murderers love mystery – they thrive on it. It’s why they try not to leave clues. Or if they do leave clues, it’s something weird.
“Officer, come here. There’s a mannequin.”
“Wow, her eyes have been replaced with snooker balls.”
“Yes, and I’ve found some mirror writing and a few arcane sigils.”
“Also, this kaftan is full of soot.”
“This is a fucking excellent mystery, let’s smoke pipes.”
And I’m certain Alton Towers’ll be up for it; they’re having a gays-only day this year so they can’t mind a bunch of murderers running around. I’ve knocked up an invite;

Come To The Cine 360

Once they’ve been lured in with goodie bags and trophies, you show them a film of a violent stabbing murder. There are two possible reactions;
Innocents will avert their eyes and say “I simply can’t empathise with the motives of the murderer, and it’s so painful”. They will blanche in horror, vomit in disgust, rise with a flourish of their capes, and leave. Now that’s a lot of words to remember in one go, so use this diagram to simply tick off the Golden Girls as they occur.

Blanche, Rise, Vomit

It is important that we don’t lock up innocent people, because they are the murderer’s favourite kind of victim, virgins in particular. Most murderers will make do with a shoplifter if they’re caught in a pinch, but they generally reoffend quicker in these cases.
Murderers will mime along with every stab, saying things like “Stab her in the knockers”, and “this really takes me back to last night at the docks”. Keep an eye out for this, it’s a dead giveaway, but don’t interrupt them straight away, they might be about to give away helpful details, like “When I dropped the weapon, I ran over a busy road to the haunting cry of a bittern“.
The most effective advertisements in the world are those that go “SEX! Now we’ve got your attention, try our new bagel!” But can you imagine how much more effective those adverts are on rapists? They’d see that sign and go “that sounds like my kinda bagel,” buy one, and rape it. The diseased bastards.
In 1982, this style of advertising was used by the department of health to encourage regular exercise, and had disastrous results – after six months, we had a nation of super-fit sex criminals who evaded the police by jumping over bungalows, and could do that cartoon punch where your face bounces off the fists and you got “dubba-dubba-dubba”.

After a name and shame article in the News of the World, a rape seed farmer called Ray Piste was killed by two thousand villagers who merged their bodies to form an angry clay giant.
Rapists, or “Contact Flashers” as they call themselves in their own sick circles, are easily caught – their vile and kinky acts are not about sexual attraction, they’re simply saying “I’ll show you! Grrr!”
So, warm a tin of cat food to body temperature, and leave it on a wall next to a sign that gives a bullet-point list of why the reader is inadequate, stupid, and spunks too quickly. The first person to shake his fist at the can, clamber onto the wall and rape the hot vagina-like mush is almost definitely a rapist.
This doesn’t work for all rapists, sadly. For date rape, you have to go on a date with the evil-minded bitch first, say things like “no, I think sex is sacred actually”. Then, at 10:30, run away, leaving the tin of warm cat food and the bullet-list on the table. (Make sure you tell the waiter that you’re dining with a potential rapist, and to call the police if he starts fucking succulent chunks of rabbit in jelly).
That’s it for the two worst crimes in the world – next year, I’ll be covering Burglary (house and turd) and making a passionate plea for reforms in the area of human fertility and embryology. So long!

14 thoughts on “Hey, The Police. I'm Doing Your Jobs Here”

  1. You’ve forgotten the most vital clue: before your suspect leaves or enters any given location, look into their eyes to see if they look shiftily from left to right. Imagine some orchestral music going “Dunn, da-da-dun DUNNNN” whilst you do this.
    I’ve forgotten quite why this works, but it’s dead proof that he’s a murderer if you do.

  2. What about those evil “watch queen” rapist observers who lack the courage to actually rape a tin of cat food or woman themselves and would rather watch another rapist in action whilst hidden in the orbal segment of a belisha beacon, cock twixt finger and thumb with tongue against plastic?
    Sick fuckers.

  3. I’d forgotten about the day our village killed that innocent farmer.
    I say killed, I mean pounded into chunky liquid by our fucking MASSIVE foot, of which I was the third toe.
    Those were the days……………
    I’m off to e-mail the Daily Mail and let them know the’re no longer allowed to say or write ‘rapist’ and must use ‘contact flasher’ to spare the feelings of sex criminals.

  4. Well I read this in a meeting and shat out a whole Muffin from laughing, now I’m fired. Just fucking great.
    (My job was ‘NEVER EVER shitting Muffins’).

  5. Log. Log log log.
    I KNOW you’ve got a proper job now writing words for a magazine and playing games like a Nintendo-sponsored it boy, but your lack of updates saddens me almost to the point of suicide.
    If you don’t write something whimsical to do with poo within the next 3 days, I’m going to sue you for emotional distress. I mean where is the love, Log? WHERE IS IT? You can’t leave me hanging like this, you wee-sodden butter troll. FEED ME YOUR WORDS OF FUNNINESS LEST I STARVE.

  6. Reluctantly, we must draw the conclusion that Log has abandoned us. Let the factional infighting as new pretenders seek to assert their authority begin!

  7. I think we’re going to have to start amusing ourselves somehow. Anyone got any amusing anecdotes involving one or more bodily fluids, an embarrasing situation, and a austistically childish-yet-analytical way of relating it to us? Preferably with a new swearword like bumsplash or cuntspike somewhere in there.

  8. I’ll sate you up the arse if you’re not careful.
    I’ve managed to amuse myself by reading the “Steve, Don’t eat it” series (google it) and TMGAIHAA (ditto). If anyone finds any funny sequences of words online, lift our collective spirits and post it here.


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