The Midden by Tom Sharpe Read Free Book Online Page B

Priority," I said. "And if you want to undermine that morale, you just go ahead and drag my

lads into court. You won't have me as Chief Constable if you do and you'd better know that now."

Well, they got the message and no mistake.'
    Which was not exactly what had happened.
    The decision had been taken two weeks before and even then it had needed the DPP's strongest

arguments to persuade the Home Secretary that a trial would not be in the public interest. He had

explained the problem over lunch at the Carlton Club. 'Start opening that particular can of

fucking worms,' he said, 'and Pandora's Box will look like the good times.'
    The Home Secretary had mulled this over with a piece of lamb's liver. 'You know, I'd never

thought of it that way before,' he said finally, running a hand over his greasy hair. 'I suppose

they have to.'
    'Have to what?' asked the Director.
    'Fuck. Must do, I suppose. Stands to reason.'
    'Fuck what?' asked the DPP, who was beginning to think his own preference for prostitutes was

being got at. For the life of him he couldn't remember one called Pandora.
    'Other worms,' said the Home Secretary. 'All the same sex or both sexes, worms are. I suppose

that's what bifurcated means.'
    The DPP tried to pull his thoughts together. He couldn't see the significance of worms

bifurcating. 'About the Twixt 'n Tween Serious Crime Squad,' he said. 'The thing is we've got Sir

Arnold Gonders up there and, while I can't say he's my cup of tea, he pulls a certain amount of

weight at Central Office. She appointed him and he's something of a favourite.'
    'Really?' said the Home Secretary, with the private thought that in that case Sir Arnold

Gonders must be extremely bent. 'Did his bit in the Miners' Strike against that shit Scargill, I

suppose?'
    'Absolutely. Never shrank back for a moment. Wanted to use armoured police horses against

pickets and that sort of thing. And water canons with some sort of acid dye in them. Gets his

instructions from God, apparently, like that other lunatic. Makes God sound fucking weird, if you

ask me.'
    The Home Secretary looked at him doubtfully. You never knew with DPPs these days. 'You've got

a thing about fucking, haven't you?' he asked. 'Ever thought of bifucking?'
    The Director of Public Prosecutions smiled unhappily. He was never entirely sure about the

Home Secretary either. There had been some talk about cross-dressing.
    Altogether it had been a most unpleasant lunch, but he had finally got the Minister to agree

that the Twixt and Tween Serious Crime Squad and the Chief Constable should be left in peace for

sound party political reasons. These had to do with a property development company in Tweentagel

which Sir Arnold had shown himself to be rather too well informed about during their private

discussions over the phone. It had never crossed the Director of Public Prosecutions' mind that

the ex-Prime Minister's family business arrangements were so involved. Sir Arnold's implied

threat made him glad he hadn't dipped his hand into that particular barrel. In short, Sir Arnold

Gonders knew far too much to be trifled with.
    Now, sitting at the top table looking down over his lads, the Chief Constable preferred his

own blunter version of events. It accorded more with the picture of himself he liked to have in

his own mind, that of the kindly father to his men who would cheerfully sacrifice his own career

to maintain their belief in themselves as the guardians of the law. Of course God came into the

picture too. He would never have got anywhere in life without God being on his side all the time.

Well, most of it anyway.
    As he'd once put it to his Deputy, 'You ought to take up religion, Harry, you really ought.

Beats Rotary any day of the week. I mean, it gives meaning, know what I mean. With God beside

you, you know you're right. My golf handicap improved four strokes when I got religion. I'd been

on twenty-two for almost as