A few years ago, Lazy Ted got lucky in this little bar in Mayfield.
She was a good-looking girl, too. He drove her around to this park, the local lovers' lane, for a little privacy and they were getting along just fine, when some local louts happened by.
Luckily, all the doors of the car were locked and the larrikins had to content themselves with rocking it backwards and forwards. Lazy Ted wasn't going to hang around for any nonsense. He stuck the car into reverse and revved out of the car park. Bodies scattered in his wake.
He ended up taking the girl to the safety of a nearby hotel.
Lazy Ted might have forgotten all about the incident but, the very next day, as he was watching his wife, Betty, washing the car, you'll never guess what he saw - a finger, just sitting there in the grille in front of the motor.
Well, he shook his head and was about to tell Betty to put it in, the rubbish, when she stopped him short.
"That finger must belong to someone. We'd better take it down the road to the Lost and Found. You'd be surprised what they can do with microsurgery these days."
Lazy Ted followed his missus down to the local cop shop where they were extra helpful. While Betty was out of ear shot, he told them the full story - exactly what happened, how, when, where and why.
Afterwards, Lazy Ted went home and forgot all about the whole business until one day, this cop came to the door and presented him with this little frozen container... and in it -the finger.
"According to Section 4 of Article 8 of the Mislaid Articles Act of 1893," the cop spouted off "found goods, if unclaimed by the owner and the loser of the aforementioned lost goods, after a period of three months, should be returned to the finder, who will be thereafter considered the owner and therefore the loser, in the event of the goods ever being re-lost."
Lazy Ted didn't really know what to do, but he took the finger and thanked the cop for his trouble. He told Betty to put it in the freezer.
Soon afterwards, the phone calls started. A man, his voice deep, husky and mean, would ring and say,
"You got my finger. You better give it back... or you'll get rubbed."
Night after night, the same man rang with the same message. Then, during the day, the Health Department started ringing and a man with a high, piping voice, would tell Ted,
"Keeping a finger in your freezer contravenes Section 1, Article 12, of the Body Parts in the Kitchen Act of 1923, and if you persist in infringing this regulation, we will be forced to carry out immediate legal action."
The final straw was when the surgeon started calling up daily, too.
"Listen, we get kids in here every day, with their fingers missing - car accidents, gun accidents... you name it. Some will never be able to use their hands again. With that finger, you could at least help one... just one of them."
Finally, it got too much for Betty.
"Listen Ted, do something. Give that finger back to the gangster. Give it to the Health Department. Even give it to the hospital. Just get rid of it. It's no use to us."
But it was all to no avail. Lazy Ted wouldn't hear of it. You know what he's like.
He'd never lift a finger to help himself or anyone else.