“Don’t you worry, Mr. Piffy,” said Cowsnofsky. “We’ll get you the best damn lawyer in England and you’ll be out of jail before those rat-bag government plumbers can aim your toilet at the good old red, white and blue.”
Piffy said something like
"Tie me kangaroo down, sport,” and it was off he went.
Piffy knew the routine. At length he was ushered into the interrogation room. Deputy Chief Constable Stumble, no-smoke pipe clenched between his bulldog jaws, eyed the interrogatee silently for some time.
