OXFORD MAN HELD ON VOYEUR CHARGES

By our man twitching behind the curtains, John Bollocks.

Police were called to a house in upper crust Kidlington, Oxfordshire last night, to arrest an alleged pervert. The alarm was raised by neighbours who heard screaming emanating from a house in The Broadway area of the village. On entry to the address, police were alarmed to find a nude male, believed to be the owner of the house, covered in a mixture of plaster & cobwebs having apparently fallen through the bathroom ceiling. The occupier, a Mr. Hugh G. Rection, 65, was taken from the house covered in a blanket which alarmingly resembled an Indian Tee Pee. He was taken for questioning at the nearby Thames Valley Police Headquarters. Witnesses recall hearing Mr Rection, 36, shouting “Oh no what have I done?” as he was led away.

It later transpired that regular churgoer Mr Rection, already known to the Police as ‘The Vicar of Vice’, had apparently been spying on Mrs. Helga Hugesnatch, his wife’s pen-pal, as she bathed in the bathroom below. Speaking through an interpreter Mrs. Hugesnatch said ‘”I was most shocked. I was lying in the bath and when I chanced to look above I saw two holes in the ceiling. I could see Herr Rection’s beady eye spying through one and dangling out of the other was a long pink sausage type object which I realised to my horror was his knob.” She continued “When I started screaming he must have panicked because all of a sudden I heard a groan and the ceiling collapsed. He must have had a tin of wallpaper paste up there aswell as I recall I was covered in something like that as he fell.”

Apparently, this wasn’t the first incident during Mrs. Hugesnatches stay at the Rection home. “I walked into the bathroom the other day which I thought was empty, only to find Herr Heffer with one foot on the floor and the other on the side of the bath, towelling homself down and grinning feverishly. On another occasion, I had just finished my bath and was drying myself, when I heard a crash outside the door. When I investigated, I found an upturned stool just outside the door, some damp, sticky residue on the floor, handprints on the glass just above the door, and Herr Rection at the bottom of the stairs. I didn’t like to say anything as it is the first time I have met Herr Rection, and being a guest in your country, I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”

Police today confirmed Mrs. Hugesnatches story issuing the following statement; “Mr Hugh G Rection, resident of  The Broadway, Kidlington was arrested last night on the charge of masturbating through a bathroom ceiling with the intent of popping on a naked lady. Mr. Rection has made a full confession and will appear before magistrates in Oxford tomorrow.”

It later emerged that Mr Rection has previously appeared before the courts charged with devil worship, the illegal donning of a horses head, and gratuitous wizardry. His long-suffering wife Belinda , declined to comment, while neighbours said only “He was such a quiet man, a churchgoer you know, and always kind to fluffy animals.’” Hmm, I bet he was.

Shoddy Services

Dear Boltvault,

On a recent motorway trip from Birmingham to London I heeded the advice of the Highways Agency and fearing tiredness could kill, took a requisite rest at the Welcome Break services situated at junction 8a near Oxford.

Having first battled my way through the assortment of bikers, travelling sports teams and caravan-towing pensioners in the car park, I then made my way to the toilets which were akin to something you might find in a Delhi slum. After several minutes attempting to hold my breath so as not to pass out from the aroma of Ginsters Pie-fuelled excrement produced by long-distance lorry drivers and hitch-hiking students, as well as the overpowering stench of urine usually found only at a ginger persons convention, I managed to make good my escape progressing into the National Queuing Championships also known as the food hall.

It was here that I spent a mind-numbingly dull 45 minutes waiting to be served by a spotty-faced Polish immigrant in the ironically named Burger King who after presumably guessing at what I had ordered due to his inability to understand a word I was saying, served me up what appeared to be a shoe sole covered in spunk and weeds with a side order of cardboard strips and a cup of boiling bum gravy. At this point I cracked and laid waste to the immediate area with the Uzi 9mm I had hidden beneath my raincoat.

Needless to say I am now incarcerated at Her Majesty’s pleasure and as I while away the hours between other cons spitting in my meals and being buggered senseless in the showers, I stop to wonder then how the owners of the humorously-named Welcome Break have never been sued under the trade descriptions act. Tossers.

Brian Pitchfork,
E-Wing, HMP Bullingdon.