The Barely Conscious Adventures of Yawny & Snoozer, Comatose Crime-fighting Comrades


Eloquent, as usual. Yawny had a way with words when he was exiting the land of Nod. Or entering it. Or just, kinda, in and out of it. It was often difficult to tell.

“You…said it…me ole…mucker…errrah…”

Ah, Snoozer. Always on hand to validate whatever insensible utterance had meandered forth from the great Yawny’s gibbering lips.

What a pair. To look at them now, to hear their snores, burps, belches and mumbled inanities, you would never surmise that, between them, they had managed to foil more than one hundred and ninety-five plots – each more devious and dastardly than the last. And all, ultimately, solved in their sleep.


For these slumbering sleuths were indolent, feckless, insensitive and uninspired when awake – but in the land of nod, where they reigned supreme, their genius was set free. In their dreams, the two could disentangle the most fiendish webs and destroy even the most intricate of underhanded schemes. Nobody could understand or account for it, but the statistics spoke for themselves.

Yawny and Snoozer were the best damn Detectives on the force. Inspector Morse? Please. DCI Jane Tennison? Gimme a break. The Sweeney? You’re ‘avin’ a larf. These bone-idle Bobbies could run intellectual rings round the lot of ’em. When they were asleep, at any rate.

Now I, Sergeant Vivian Constable (yes, that is my real name, sonny. I’ve heard all the jokes, thank you) am tasked with committing their story of tedious torpor to paper.

Bugger. Why do I get all the shit jobs?

Oh well. Ours is not to reason why, an’ all that. Best start at the beginning…

Solidarity, brothers & sisters

Yawny, looking much less dishevelled than usual

Yawny, looking much less dishevelled than usual


About Seba Roux

Gooner, Socialist, Historian, Slacker. That's pretty much all you need to know.
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