Horse's Arse Read Online Free

rest of the group. They worked and drank together, kept watch for each
other, and according to Psycho Sean had probably been separated at their birth
to a Rampton inmate. Jim Docherty was a dour, pale-faced Geordie in his early
thirties with breath that could strip wallpaper. He loved his job, which he saw
as a very simple one. Arrest villains, fit them up if necessary, kick the shit
out of them - job well done. His partner in crime, Henry Walsh, took a similar
line and between them they had established a reputation in the town as a pair
of unscrupulous hard bastards. The locals hated them, and whilst their
colleagues regarded them warily, their arrival at a pub fight was always as
welcome as the appearance of the Seventh Cavalry. Unfortunately, their arrival
at non-violent situations had a habit of shortly preceding a fistfight. Henry,
known simply as H, had joined the Force straight from school and could never be
described as the stereotypical copper. School had been a prep school in Kent
followed by a minor public school in Devon, which he had left with a
rudimentary education, a raging thirst and a desire to experience life outside
a secluded valley. The son of a naval officer who had served around the world,
Henry had been at boarding school from the age of eight, rarely seeing his
parents or younger brothers. He was fiercely independent and emotionally
retarded, but soon found the job he had been born to do. He revelled in the
macho world of the police and discovered that being born with fists like
granite gave him a distinct advantage. He was also marked out from the rest by
his less hirsute approach to personal grooming. Whilst his colleagues,
including Jim, favoured a collar-length, over-the-ears style with full
sideburns, H preferred his blond hair cut in a tight flat top — a style
achieved in a local knife and fork establishment to the accompaniment of
'Something for the weekend, sir?'. He enjoyed the comparisons, often made, to a
German Panzer tank commander.
        The Grim
Brothers had made Bravo Two Yankee One theirs and no supervisor had ever been
inclined to separate them. Many took the view that with them working together
at least trouble was confined to one job at a time. Now the pair looked at
Jones and then at each other.
        'Complete
twat,' said Jim and H nodded in agreement. They always agreed.
        
        
        The
officer to whom Psycho Sean had offered his opinion of Jones was Dave 'Bovril'
Baines. Bovril had gained his unusual nickname after a drunken coupling with a
nurse at the local hospital. After several hours of frenzied activity the
unfortunate woman's nether regions had become dry, and in an attempt to avoid
serious injury she had asked Baines to use some lubricating jelly from a jar on
a shelf above her bed. He had grabbed a jar, smeared a huge handful of its
contents into her crutch and got stuck in again. Her screams had chilled his
blood, as had the horrendous brown stains on both their bodies and the bedding.
The discarded Bovril jar on the floor calmed him somewhat before he beat a
hasty retreat leaving her dousing herself at the sink. He had related the tale
to the rest of the group later and was quickly saddled with a nickname that
would stay with him for the rest of his life. Even his mother now referred to
him as Bovril, but innocently assumed that it was as a result of his childhood
addiction to the stuff.
        Bovril
didn't respond to Psycho's observation, but privately agreed with him. A
formidable shagger, he drew the line at going after colleagues' partners, but
had a rendezvous planned for that morning with the girlfriend of a greengrocer
who left for work shortly after 6.30 a.m. As soon as this pointless muster was
over he would be on his way. He worked as hard as he had to, but he really had
only one interest in life: sex, and lots of it. A previous supervisor had once
memorably remarked that it was a shame he was such a lazy bastard. If he'd