Sgt. Brown: [points to floor] Look, sir. An impression of a heel.
Superintendent Quilt: Very clever, Brown, but we haven't time for your impressions now.
Narrator: At 11.10 the police photographers arrived, photographed the police, and hurried away again.
Superintendent Quilt: Where were you on the night of the 17th?
Beautiful woman: Don't you remember?
Superintendent Quilt: [gulps] Have you got all that down, Brown?
Sgt. Brown: Yes, sir.
Superintendent Quilt: Well rub it out again.
Maurice Plonk: My name is Maurice Plonk, and I live in a little log cabin in Piccadilly. Last night I left a burning cigarette by my bedside and the whole place was burny down. And the night before last, my fire insurance ran out and we did not get a penny. My, how we did laugh when we heard about it.
Narrator: Mr Plonk has nothing to do with our story. We thought you'd like to see what a real idiot looked like.