In the police station on business, Mine Host was encountering a hostile attitude from the Senior Constable on desk duty.
"Wayside Tavern, I know all about the drug dealing going on out the back of that place!" she snorted contemptously.
It was clear she held Mine Host to be accountable.
Knowing his own premises quite well, Mine Host was mystified at any suggestion of drug dealing.
For in those pre smoking-law times, people lurking outdoors of a pub was a rarity. Mine Host knew her accusation was rubbish. To have said such a thing made her seem stupid.
Mine Host politely gave forth his retort to the Senior Constable, verbalising his scorn for her statement, stating that any suggestion of drug dealing at his place was a laugh, and perhaps she had the wrong pub? (er...Her serious proposal of such a preposterous hypothesis may have driven Mine Host to answer more forcefully than this, perhaps accompanied by his head tilting to one side, bulging eyes and an ejaculation of total disbelief).
In anticipacion of a fact-based denial, she was ready with a most hostile riposte;
"I've heard stories!"
Mine Host politely enquired if "I've heard stories" was an investigative technique taught at the academy, or had she developed it herself?
Mine Host went on to speculate that quoting this technique would be a "real killer" when applying to a JP for a search warrant, and as a prosecution courtroom technique would likewise be of invaluable assitance to defence attorneys.
She conducted the remainder of Mine Host's business in the station in a perfunctory manner, with only the most essential use of speech.
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