THE MCNEISH FILES
We cleared the fence like Olympic hurdlers, then lay about laughing Farmer liked hearing me out and about
I got a call on a Friday about a domestic disturbance in Tullibody.
When I arrived, the couple were giving it laldy but there was no violence.
The wife had been in the pub all afternoon so made her husband a fry-up for dinner. It was lying in a heap on the carpet, directly below where it had struck the wall.
Their loud conversation centred on the quality of the food. I asked if this was a new kind of art: the splat on the wall with colourful streaks leading vertically down to the plate on the carpet.
They both looked at
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The fry-up was lying in a heap on the carpet, directly below where it had struck the wall
the wall then burst out laughing.
What good would it have done if I had simply arrested one of them?
Instead, I helped them clean up and we had a cup of tea.
When I left, he was heading out to get them both a fish supper.
We were on a search near the Little Chef at Tomatin and had to cross a field containing some cattle and a large bull.
We were corralling the cows into a corner, but it was the bull in the other corner we had eyes on.
When we were halfway across, the bull snorted and charged at our ranks.
Fully-trained police officers and soldiers scattered like ninepins. We cleared the fence like Olympic hurdlers then lay about in hysterics.
Little Chef diners no doubt chuckled.
There was a Royal visit at Highland Fabricators’ Nigg Yard off the Cromarty Firth in 1974.
The Queen was walking along a line of dignitaries and at the end of the line was the big boss. Normally, he was cool as a cucumber but as the Queen got closer, he seemed more and more agitated.
The Queen’s tour would include calling in at the nearby police accommodation. To his PR, in a strangled whisper, he said: “Get the cops to take their drawers off the washing line!” The PR glanced over to the cottage and, to his horror, saw police shirts and underwear flapping in the breeze.
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Get the cops to take their drawers off the washing line!
I was working late with a Tullibody colleague when we were asked to assist at an incident in Alloa. Someone had broken into a pub and was still inside.
We split up to flush out the intruder. Just as I entered a dark room, I bumped against the pool cue rack, then a figure leapt up from under the pool table.
He lunged at me with a knife. I reached behind me and grabbed a pool cue. As he lunged, I stepped to one side, swung it heavy end first, and hit him on the side of his head. He collapsed as though poleaxed.
If I hadn’t bumped into the cue rack I would have been stabbed. Sometimes you get lucky.
Afterwards, the boss wanted to know why I didn’t use my standard baton.
“No time,” was my reply.
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If I hadn’t bumped into the rack I’d have been stabbed
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The Inspector saw Harry, in full uniform, sledging down the hill
On the subject of police officers being visible in communities, a widowed farmer near Fearn stayed up late most nights doing the farm books.
The farm was isolated. She was nervous and asked for my vehicle call sign. She liked to listen to the police radio and asked me check something out using my radio.
She listened for my call sign and said hearing me out and about in the area made her feel safe. One of my colleagues in Tain, Harry Munro, was on duty when a complaint came in of a group of kids disturbing the neighbourhood by shouting and yelling while sledging.
The Inspector ordered Harry to stop them. Harry was taking a long time about it, so the Inspector headed out to check. When he reached the hill, he saw Harry sledging, in full uniform, along with the children. There was much merriment but no shouting and yelling as Harry had got them to be quieter.
The Inspector was furious but soon calmed down and saw the funny side.