Entertainment For Lively Minds
Dads. Don't you just love 'em?
So I'm in a meeting at work this morning when my phone goes. Caller ID blocked, so I ignore it. I do pick up the voicemail an hour or so later, to find that Merseyside Police have been trying to get in touch with the owner of my phone, as the phone has apparently been used to make nuisance phone calls and if I don't stop, I will be tracked down 'and my parents informed'.
Now this is a bit strange as my phone is never out of my sight and I, I hasten to add, am not in the habit of making nuisance phone calls. To the best of my knowledge.
So I call back and leave my own voice message, protesting my innocence of such awful behaviour and inviting the policewoman who left the message to call me back.
Which she does. It transpires an elderly gentleman in the Merseyside area had received a couple of prank calls from some young children early this morning that had involved some rather naughty language. After the call he'd dialled '1471', written down the last number called and reported this to the police. It was my number he'd written down.
Having made it clear to the (nice) policewoman that I was not nine years old, and that no nine year old could have got hold of my phone at the time in question, we agreed the old boy had probably copied the number down wrongly and left it at that.
Except something seemed strange. Of all the places this prank call could have taken place, isn't Merseyside a bit close to home for comfort?
Then the penny dropped.
I called my Dad.
Me: "Hi Dad"
Dad: "Hi Son"
Me: "Dad, did you get a prank phone call this morning?"
Dad: "Yes, I did! Some kids messing around. Swore at your mother."
Me: "Dad, how do you think I know this?"
Dad: "Don't know, son"
Me: "You know that number you copied down and gave to the police?"
Dad: "Yeah?"
Me: "Did you not recognise it?"
Dad: "No"
Me: "Dad, that was my phone number. I've had the police on. They thought I was making phone calls and scaring old people"
Dad: "HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
So for whatever reason, the call from the kids did not get picked up by 1471. Which meant that the last number recorded was from when I called them late last night to make sure they were all right.
Has anyone else ever been grassed up by their parents?
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That...
is brilliant.
I seem to recall that
If you press 4 1471 before dialling the number the recipient cannot recall it.
I might be wrong but there is/was someway of doing this that these kids clearly know.
A likely story
I think it's time you stopped harassing your dad and confront the issues you are internalising.
A friend of mine's Dad..
..marched his son down to the police station when he discovered that a remote corner of his greenhouse had been used to grow proscribed herbs. My friend was fourteen at the time and I've always thought that it was a bit harsh, (this took place circa 1984, which were possibly more innocent times)- he ended up spending a couple of hours in the cells and received a caution, an experience which left him absolutely terrified but did put an end to his little operation.
Great story Paul.
Oh yeah
mine tried to frame me for murder.
Well, no, not quite, but there was a grisly scene years ago up the street from their house involving a Tory MP and the IRA. The police went round the neighbourhood asking if there had been any strangers around recently.
My mum said: "Well our feckless son came by yesterday and we hardly see him at all nowadays." Cue blues and twos on my doorstep.
Great post BTW. Gotta love your dad.
Thank you Paul
Great story.
Thank you
That made me laugh
oh yes
My father and I have never gotten on.
Someone wrote "PVFC" on a Neighbour's caravan in marker pen and my dad saw it and told the neighbour that it was probably me. I was about 14 and was a bit shocked to find myself in the Police station explaining it couldn't have been me as i was away that weekend playing in an Ice Hockey tournament for GB in Scotland.The fact that we lived in an area of predominately Port Vale supporters and it could have been anyone in a 5 mile radius my old man grassed me up because he could..
The fireworks incident story is for another day.
Fab Story,Paul. thanks for sharing.
P.s I did know who'd written on the caravan.
Not grassed up, but
my Mum did once break my nose in a gesture of affection. I kid you not.
(She's also said in the past that if she ever suspected me of child abuse, she'd pull the lever to the gallows herself without benefit of a trial. She ceases to be eligible for Jury Service in 3 years' time. The country will be a safer place as a result.)
One question...
...do you have children? Children who might have picked up your phone while your back was turned, rung the last number it had dialed and shouted a few rude words to whomever answered before hanging up and running away giggling? Or children with naughty friends who might do the same?
Alternatively, did you have any sweary moments that morning, which might have been picked up by the mic in your phone after it had accidentally managed to redial the last number called whilst being jostled about in your jacket pocket? Having a first name right at the start of the alphabet I find myself on the receiving end of unintended calls from friends' pockets/handbags/etc. on a surprisingly regular basis.
That was considerably more than one question. My apologies.
your first name
I suppose it's Abra.
I do have children.
They are 24 and 22, living in Somerset and Yorkshire respectively. At the time in question, my phone was with me, in my car, somewhere on the M25, stuck in plain view on the dashboard where it was on satnav duty whilst playing the hits of Thin Lizzy through the radio.
You can't pin this one on me guv'nor.
As a sparkling new
veterinary surgeon I moved out of home and into a small miner's cottage in Ipswich (Queensland). My father was fascinated by a tiny fireplace that was obviously decommissioned and for decorative use only. Mum and I ducked down the shops to get some house-holdy things and when we came back dad was on the footpath looking expectantly at the roof. "I'm checking if any smoke's coming out the chimney," he explained. I pointed out that it would be very difficult to check whether smoke was coming out the chimney, as the smoke pouring out the windows obscured the top of the house. We got the fire under control with some buckets of water, but not before the mantelpiece had been charred and the paint on one wall blistered. As I sifted through the soggy debris in the fireplace I recognised a corner of paper.
"Dad, what did you use to light the fire?"
"Just some scrap paper lying around and some branches from outside."
By scrap paper he meant an envelope containing my veterinary degree, my certificate of registration and a large wad of other bank and insurance papers.
He did repair the damage and repaint the wall in a similar colour, so I couldn't get too angry at him.
Excellent stuff
All of these tales belong in a Danny Baker "How Mad Is Your Dad?" phone in.