Mikiatures 30 - Watching The Detectives

Watching The Detectives
‘So what d’ya reckon, Jenkins?’
            ‘Looks stone cold dead to me, Sir.’
            ‘Yes, I can see that, Jenkins. I meant, How did he die?’
            ‘Well, if you ask me, Sir, I’d say he banged his head on the floor.’
            ‘Brilliant, Jenkins. The pool of blood is a bit of a giveaway, isn’t it?’
            ‘Yes, I supp—’
            ‘How did he end up on the floor, Jenkins? Come on, man, show some nous!’
            ‘Some what, Sir?’
            ‘Nous, Jenkins. Didn’t they teach you anything at university?’
            ‘No, Sir.’
            ‘I’m waiting.’
            ‘Heart attack, Sir?’
            ‘I’ll ignore that, Jenkins. You’re lucky it’s Friday. Notice anything about his shirt?
            ‘It doesn’t match his jeans, Sir?’
            ‘Judas Priest, Jenkins! Look at those yellow stains down the front. And what about that empty yoghourt pot lying beside him? Jesus wept, Jenkins! How many more clues do you need?’
            ‘He was a messy eater, Sir?’
            ‘You’ve never had one of those yoghourts before, have you, Jenkins? Great for your cholesterol, but disastrous for your body balance.’
            ‘How do you mean, Sir?’
            ‘The silly sod leant his head back too far, lost his footing and . . . Splat!’
            ‘You reckon, Sir?’
            ‘Stick to doughnuts, Jenkins. That’s my advice.’