Just as I was about to retire to bed, the phone rang.

“Sorry Sir to bother you so late on a Saturday night, but this is the Hull Constabulary, I am Sergeant Jones. Are you Mr. Kirk, MD of Mansfield Brewery and do you know this man who says he is your Property Director.”

Dreading something awful had happened I answered,

“Yes, I am and I do know him, what has happened officer?”

“One of our constables this afternoon was patrolling in Hull when his attention was drawn to camera flashes going off inside one of our public conveniences. When questioning the perpetrator, he came up with this cock and bull story about doing research for the Council. Of course, we didn’t believe him, and he is now in custody at our police station.”

I then twigged what was going on. The Hull Council had just recruited a pimply maths graduate who had developed this algorithm to set the number of men’s urinals in pubs. The calculation gave results suggesting ridiculous numbers.

In his rage our Property Director apparently thought he would apply the same algorithm to the public toilets to produce the same ludicrous results. He reinforced the point and took photographs illustrating the pristine conditions of ours in comparison with the shabby dirty toilets of the councils.

“Unfortunately, officer, his cock and bull story happens to be true, but can you do me a favour? Can you hold him for another two hours for wasting your time, supply him tea and biscuits and ring his wife to tell her he is OK. Tell him I do not have any recollection of such a person.”

The police played ball.

First thing Monday morning my property director strode into my office and burst into a tirade containing every second word limited to four letters! I couldn’t stop smiling all day.