Jock and his buddy were sitting in the pub.

"So now ye've retired, Jock, how d'ye spend yer days?" asked the friend.

"Oh, it's easy and cheap ta' boot" replied Jock. "Joost the ither day, me missus and me come oot'a store in the high street. Wha'd we see but a constable writing up a car at the kerb.

"So up I walks and sez 'Could ye no gie a pensioner a break?'"

The constable looked at me, tore off the ticket and put it on the car.

"You're a right barstard, you are!" sez me wifie. The plod started writing again..."bald tyres", sez he.

"It's a disgrace, and you're at right the bottom of the barrel." I said.

The cop started yet another sheet: "cracked headlight," he said.

"Well," said Jock, "this went on for 20 minutes. We'd call him a naughty name, and he'd just write oot more a his paper...lights, mirrors, seatbelts, the lot! The windscreen looked a fair encyclopedia, it did.

"So what happened then?" asked Jock's friend.

"Aye, just then oor bus come along and we got on and went home."