REMEMBER IT’S CHRISTMAS

There was a banging on my front door and a raised voice.
'Is that you postie,' I shouted expecting a parcel.
‘Open up in the name of the law,’ said the same voice.
Getting out the bath I'd just got in, wrapping a towel round the bottom half of my wet naked body, I walked crab like along the hall to the door.
‘Whose law?’ I shouted
‘Ours, you twat. Now open up.’
I opened the door a little, peered out. Two policemen, blurry without my glasses.
‘Yes?’ I said. ‘Officer.’
‘Sorry to bother you.'
‘I’ll bet.’
‘Well, pleasure aside, have you seen the man lives in that flat over there?’
‘On and off for the last ten years,’ I said.
‘Recently.’
‘He was having a fag outside the laundry a few days ago and we said “hello” to each other and I asked him if he knew the two characters trying to get in the building who were shouting at us, “Oi, we’re trying to get in the building.”’
‘And did he?’
‘What?’
‘Know the two characters you just said were trying to get in the building.’
‘They said that,’ I said. ‘That’s how I knew.’
‘Knew what?’
‘They were trying to get in the building.’
‘Yes, you said,’ he said. ‘But did he know?’
‘Who?’
‘The man who lives in that flat over there?’
‘Did he know what?’
‘The two men, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Now now,’ I said. ‘Remember it’s Christmas.’