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Caught picking pockets

The scene was a courtroom in Dublin at the height of the summer with a major fair in full swing and happiness abounding. In the dock stood Casey, beetroot nose and breath like kerosene.

'With what is this man charged?' asked the judge.

'He was caught red-handed, your honour, picking the pockets of the farmers at the fair,' said the policeman.

'How do you plead?' asked the judge.

'Guilty,' said Casey sullenly.

'Well, 'tis a heinous crime which you have committed,' said his honour, 'and you are fined £50 to be paid immediately.'

'Excuse me, your honour,' said the policeman, 'but he only has £10 on him.'

'Very well,' said the judge. 'Put him back in the crowd until he makes the money up!'

 
 


 
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