DON'T Ask A Busy Person!

Devon and Cornwall Police employ a man called Shakey M'Hand. I know this because I spoke to him yesterday and he's a lovely chap. Luckily!

Tiddler is going through an "experimental" phase, which is another way of saying that he sees a toy hammer and a glass door and assumes they must go together if forced at great speed. Not to mention that I keep finding potatoes in the washing machine and am unable to switch on the oven without first inspecting it for oven gloves, small shoes and stray Teletubbies.

It was on such a "challenging" morning that I received a phone call from the police. Tiddler had spent the entire car journey to nursery trying to eat his shoes, after attempting to see how far he could throw his breakfast cereal (about 3 metres, although in fairness I did later find some Cheerios in the porch, smashing his personal best in the "widest distribution of a breakfast cereal" category), my in-tray was stacked so high that I could see some snow up there and the phone was ringing off the hook. I was alone in the office.

The policeman at the end of the phone wanted to speak to my colleague, who is a bit of a wag. It was concerning a serious matter, and my colleague would be able to provide access to where the police needed to get to. "He's not around at the moment" I said, sounding flustered. "Let me take your name and number and ask him to give you a call". The policeman at the end of the line was cheerful and pleasant. "My name is DCI M'Hand" he said, being careful to spell it for me. "Everyone here calls me Shakey". I wrote it all down.

Later, after I'd left the message with my colleague, I looked at my scribbles on the scrap of paper. Shakey M'Hand! In one forehead-slapping moment I realised I'd been had. Did I smile graciously? I did not. I harrumphed indignantly around the (still empty) office in a shocking display of sense-of-humour-failure. This was a serious matter involving a serious case which is currently national news, and some fool was using it as a bit of Friday fun at my expense. And I had a million and one things to do before I had to pick Tiddler up for more of the same.

I phoned said colleague and explained how I was far too busy and important to be bothered by prank calls, and he promised to take the perpetrator to task. I told him to give the man short shrift if he had nothing better to do than make up stupid names and play tricks involving what anyone with feelings would consider a terrible tragedy.

Imagine my surprise, then, when he called me back to explain that he was due to meet with Mr M'Hand the following day, who turns out to be as real as you or I. I've never been so embarrassed in my life (except last week during those strong winds, when my skirt blew over my head in the middle of Sainsbury's car park)

With Tiddler flinging his breakfast all around the kitchen, it's no wonder I ended up with egg on my face.

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