This auld guy fae the nursing home shat himself in the cafe. He didane gee two fucks but. The place emptied pronto and the manager wuman went aff her nut.
“Haw you, ya stinking bastard, get oot!”
“Or whit? A paid fir ma knickerbocker glory. If a cannae hod in ma shite anymore that’s no ma fault. Am a paying customer n the customer is always right.”
She thought fir a wee second and nodded.
“Yir right, am sorry. Here, why don’t a get ye another ice cream on me?”
“That’s better. Al take wan wae raspberry sauce this time.”
The wuman smiled and came back wae a sawed-aff shotgun n blew the head right aff him.
“How’s that fir raspberry sauce?”
When the polis arrived there was blood n brains everywhere – awe over the wuman’s face and the ice cream an awe.
“He jist died, officer. Auld age it must have been.”
Muirhead’s finest looked at the headless body and gee the wuman a cheeky smile.
“Aye why no. The fuck we’re wasting a sunny day like this inside. Case closed.”