Bridport & West Dorset News, Views, Videos & Curiosities

The Red Bladder cleans up West Dorset

The Red Bladder plans a new career helping the people of West Dorset.

WHEN you reach my age, time tends to hang a little heavily, the days pass and then merge into weeks and before you know it, it’s Christmas again and another year has gone by without the offer of a peerage.

So, I decided to find myself a little part time job. But doing what?

Then it hit me, just like a bolt out of the blue. I shall help to make West Dorset’s streets safe for the citizens of the area and perform a valuable public service as well as earning oodles of dosh and having loads of time off.

I plan to be a copper’s grass. Not, mind you, your ordinary run-of-the-mill sort of grass. No, that’s not for me. I intend to be a super grass.

Now I realise that, as in every career, I shall have to start off at the bottom and work my way up. I shall probably begin by tipping off the traffic wardens when a white Transit van blocks the traffic in East Street, that should be worth a fiver a throw.

Then I’ll work my way up. Snide notes, bank heists and Post Office blags will very quickly become the order of the day. You see – already I’ve studied the slang and would soon be able to chat away to a rozzer out of the corner of my mouth in a completely inconspicuous sort of a way.

It’s going to be nearly as good as winning the lottery. It’ll be a pony a time with the odd monkey as a bonus. Obviously many of you won’t understand all of this but, unlike me, you won’t be familiar with the argot of the underworld and my, soon to be, chums, the Peelers.

The only thing is I don’t know how to set about it.

At the minute I know no criminals and no policemen. But that’s not a problem, it’s an opportunity.

It will soon be sorted out. I suppose that if I drop into the cop shop they’ll give an application form. I reckon that I could soon rustle up something that looks like a reference from Mr Big and then it’ll be the gravy train for me.

So from now on watch out all you ne’er-do-wells, footpads and villains.

One word from The Red Bladder could earn you a hefty stretch of porridge.

Don’t ever say that you weren’t warned!

The Red Bladder is a former national newspaper journalist (tabloid and broadsheet).