Policing a funeral
Dick Hand was a copper reaching the end of 30 years service. He worked the quiet Whitley and Briestfield beat. Dick was as bald as a coot.
One day, the funeral of a town dignatary was taking place at the Parish Church. That meant that half a dozen uniformed men from various beats acted as an escort and carried the coffin into church.
The church was full and we policemen stootd three on each side of the church door to receive the coffin. We removed out helmets and raised the coffin shoulder high and slow-marched into church.
Dick Hand was the front right-hand man and, forgotten by him, was the packed of 20 Players cigarettes he hid under his helmet perched squarely on his bald head.
Only when we put the coffiin down on the bier di the cigs fall off.
Quick sleight of hand by Dick to pocket his cigs.
Lord knows what the mourners felt.