How I used to line the pockets of the CID

THE FRIDAY THING: The Leveson inquiry into the dirty deeds of the the media — fuelled by so-called stars who want to see their glittering smiles in the paper every day but come over all petulant when the spotlight shines on their less-savoury activities — hasn’t yet had evidence from the good folk of Oldham, or indeed hacks from this law-abiding organ.

So has there been phone hacking, donations to individual police retirement funds, bribing public officials (with all the £100,000-plus salaries at the Civic Centre, would there be any need?) and exposure of the off-stage antics of Fred on drums and Bert on keyboard at the Well-i-hole working men’s club? Apparently not.

But in the light of all this scandal, I am minded to confess to having handed money over to police officers when I was news editor - one of my many roles at the Chron (I missed only on on emptying the bins because the boss of bins didn’t think I was up to it).

I’m ashamed to say I regularly contributed to police pockets by handing over cash in an upstairs room at the One and Three pub - forever known for serving the best Guinness this side of Dublin.

I was not, I hasten to add, on the trail of a scoop or a scandal, simply searching for — longing for, in fact — a decent poker hand and the skill to recognise one if and when it came along.

I don’t think the Leveson inquiry would be overly interested in that, though the health police would be appalled at the notion of drinking (and smoking heavily) as well as at the notion of squandering hard-earned money on the turn of a card rather than on fruit, salad and cod liver oil.

CID in those now very distant days stood for Cards? I’ll Deal and the only downside for me was having to walk home in the rain when all my dosh had gone into the unofficial police benevolent fund.

Happy days.


WHO would ever have thought that the day would dawn when there would be a call for a ban on prayers in the UK?
Christians and members of other faiths have been under attack in many parts of the world in recent years (including, sadly, here at home where wearing a crucifix has, in some places, been outlawed) but why ban prayers when those praying are, in the main, seeking only good?

Clive Bone (a particularly appropriate name I think, especially as a prefix to the word “head”) has asked the courts for a ban on prayers at council meetings and, such is the mindset of the judiciary these days that his wish has been granted. What will we have next: a ban on praying in general?

Will there come a time where there is a loud knock on the door when a child, sitting up in bed, begins: “Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, Look upon a little child . . . .” and the menacing prayer police enter?

Let us all pray this scenario remains a fantasy.


FINAL WORD: One of the vast number of things I will never understand is the penchant some folk have for rambling or cycling in the nude.
The latest willing exponent of frozen assets is a chap called Nigel Kerr, who wears only a backpack and boots on his country rambles and is also fond of wearing no clothes while he rides his bike.

I suppose it is a harmless activity and probably gives a few people (mainly women) a good laugh as Nigel emerges from the shrubbery.