Not me but a friend
Had a recording studio in a shed at the bottom of their garden. Now anyone familiar with recording studios will know that they are fueled by copious amounts of pot and this little shed of sound was no exception.

The music industry being what it is, it helps to pay the bills if not all of said pot is smoked. Some of it must be distributed to the masses at inflated prices to help keep the wolves at bay.

Unfortunately the local constabulary take a very dim view of such activities and decided to raid my friends house in the wee hours of the morning one day.

Luckily heaps of recording equipment make for excellent hiding places so after searching the house and shed our piggy little friends had found nothing. "Call in the dogs" they cried.

A sniffer dog was duly dispatched and was taken into the shed studio after coming up blank in the house. As soon as the poor thing entered the shed though, it's finely tuned nose was bombarded with the odours of 5 years extreme skunk immolation and sweaty feet in an enclosed space with very poor ventilation.

The dog went fucking apeshit.

The handler removed the dog from the shed immediately claiming that another second in there would render the dog retired from active service unable to even smell another dog's ass.

The busies left empty handed and all was right with the world til they came back the following week and caught them red(green?)handed with a couple of ounces and threw the book at them.

Those books hurt.
(lurkylurklurk swings more, Tue 21 Sep 2010, 10:22, Reply)