Agent Nora and the Dastardly Dictator

Agent Nora stalked down the hall to DI Petty's office, aimed a kick at the door and as it slammed into the opposite wall, she slouched onto the comfy sofa in the corner that the DI used for 'bad news' and romancing the new Community Policewimmin, the one with a moon face and a skirt the size of one of Bilbo Bagginses handkerchiefs.
She glanced down at the dubious stain on the polyester seats and fished out a paper hanky she lifted her left bum cheek and sat back down, then did the same for the right cheek. She stared balefully at DI Petty as he studiously ignored her emanating pulsating irritation.
She coughed and Petty looked up, she noticed with satisfaction the small glimmer of fear in his eyes before professional hauteur kicked in.
''whats the meaning of this? she waved a limp crumpled letter in front of him.
''If you mean by 'this' you mean your official reprimand for gross insubordination and feisty disregard for police proceedure, then my dear girl, the meaning is clear. You allowed an illegal alien into Svalfart without due inspection or regard for hierarchy, this resulted in you being put on probation, I fail to see what puzzles you''
''ah screw hierarchy, and screw police proceedure, you know I am a maverick, thats what I do, its my raisin deter...n.. thingy.... arsehole''
Calling me an A-Hole will only dig you in deeper'' said Petty and then paused as if trying to banish the images this conjured up.
He coughed and rattled his papers importantly as if to say 'good day to you!' whether its a good day for you to be good in or only good that you will shortly be off the force for good.
''pfft'' said Agent Nora, and kicked her way out of his office.

Hooray!   

While I've got you, could look at this. I'm not quite sure if what you had is exactly as you would wish (or am I just thick?) If it needs editing - and I'm not just being thick - could you suggest said edits...

From Carrots from Mars:

It was freezing cold that night and even the penguins wore earmuffs even though it was doubtful they had ears in the conventional sticky-outy pointy way. There were lots of laydeez wandering about with legs blue with chill under their spray tans, and Kate Moss for Top Shop frocks. Nora thought she was back in Newcastle again studying for her police certificate, which included the age old party trick and public scarer, "You know you are getting old when policemen start looking fresh faced and perky" and how to Taser-gun-stun drunks, and throw a mean Stinger across roads. She had been to the party supply shoppe and was wearing the regulation, “Bridesmaid about to do her duty and hold the hair of the bride while she pukes her guts up after 10 Bacardi Breezers and a packet of salt n onion flavoured crisps” expression.

Nora thought she was back in Newcastle again studying for her police certificate, where she took lessons in "You know you are getting old when policemen start looking like Justin Bieber", how to throw buckied Scotshobbits into the back of the Paddywaggon without getting headbutted and other unsavory proceedures.

how about this?   

Excellent. {{{I suspect you forgot yourself what you were getting at.   It shall forever remain our secret though! }}}

 It is done! Thank ye!

Agent Nora slunk off to the cells where she passed a Stinkensharkfisk sandwich to the illegal alien. He took the proffered package with nervous hands, took one sniff and fell to the floor in a faint crying ''police brutalityaaaaaaaaaargcough!''
''bloody cheek!'' cried Nora, ''that Stinkenfisk is a tasty and nutritious treat, its only been rotting for 6 months, whats up with the idjit''.
The police cat 'The Moocher' sidled up to the sandwich, gave it an exploritory pawing and then shot off tail bristling and miowing in outrage as the putrid odour assaulted its poor little shnozzle.
As Nora stomped off through the snow in the carpark she wondered, not for the last time, why she had left her comfortable home in Kipperstink-on-Stan for the hardships of Svalfart.

 Just so...

Carry on, Mrs Figg. I'm off now to buy shoes (true!)--- my old ones being not unlike Stinkenfisk, nasally speaking...   

''Dont mention the war'' said Orwell as Agent Nora perched on the stool beside him.
''what War? she wasnt really listening, her thoughts were far far away, she was thinking about Eldo in his shorts.
''goodness Nora!, the famous Fishyburn War!, its important we celebrate our indepenence from the tyranny the cold blooded horror that invaded our fair land, oh yes, our freedom from foreign thongs''
''Well if we cant mention it, how can we celebrate it? she mused halfheatedly flicking a dead eyeball on a steel dish.
''well nobody in polite society mentions thongs'' he giggled.
''wait..what..thongs..you mean?.. oh gross'' The eyeball plopped of the dish onto her knee and looked up at her accusingly.

later in the police station canteen Agent Nora sat musing on the thorny question of thongs.
''hey Lance have you heard of this thong thang? said Nora
''nope but I have heard of the Great Ribena Party of 73, by all accounts the Sea turned blood red and the fisk lost their Peggy teeth to sugar rot''.
''hey Lance'', said Orwell, ''you havent lost that butt plug I let you borrow have you? those parasitical ZambeeziRiverWorms will zip up without so much as a wham bam thankyamam you know''
Lance looked daggers and the others goggled.
''ha ha he's going barrel riding'' Orwell raised his voice and pointed at Lance as a stunned silence and the dropping of Forks echoed round the canteen.
''moving swiftly on. I heard it was the ancestor of Orwell that started the trouble'' said Agent Halfy trying hard to normalize the gelid atmosphere
''He ruled Svalfart in those days with an iron fist, and imposed thong wearing on the population, it didnt take long before irritation set in, then a burning sensation, followed by full on chafing, it was horrible'' whispered Halfy.
''that would be the fungus'' said Elthir from the dark corner of the room.
everyone jumped. and Lance let out a little scream. No one had ever seen Elthir away from his cottage of Lore in living memory.
''hmm Elthir? have you heard of this Fishyburn Thong War? said Nora.
''well I havent actually heard of it, I have however read of it, which implies eyes cannot hear things but only see things, however wisdom can be heard, and eyes if they are Grey no doubt are very very very wise'' he said nodding sagely at them all as if he was a learned wizard shooting the breeze with the lower orders of Hobbit. (which he was of course)
''oh'' said Nora.

"as if he was a learned wizard shooting the breeze with the lower orders of Hobbit. (which he was of course)"

loved that!   Good stuff Figg, keep it coming.

Agent Nora sighed and watched as Lance got Orwell in a headlock and with one swift SAS backflip had them both rolling around the floor of the station, kicking and handbagging.
''steady on chaps'' said Halfy, ''isnt that Judge Blue Velvet just walked through the front door?''
''sheesh'' said Nora, ''he's that top flight High Court Lawyer over at Liquidfarrt Corp in Herring-on-Tweed, what he doing slumming it here?''
Lance and Orwell let go each others dangly bits and patted dust off their uniforms and stood up.
''ooo'' said DI Bungo ''I heard the rumours about him, they say he's half Elven, you know like Elrond in that spectacular film by Peeder Jigson''
''Half Elven? my thistle stung ass!'' said DI Petty who had just sauntered in drawn by the squeals of various WPCs who had their noses squashed up to the window to ogle his car. (he had a big red Prius)
''He is like Elrond because you can never get a yes or a no, A shall we go on a quest to Tesco's or is Ikea better?, Is Scotshobbit baiting morally bad, or is it strangely satisfying and good? You never get a straight answer, rather like a lawyer and Elven Elrond methinks.'' said Nora.
''wise words for one so young'' said Orwell
and they all nodded in agreement
apart from Petty
and he just glowered a gloamy glower.

I come from a long line of Orwells, but do you think I know of this one!   {{{Though, of course, I recognize several family tratis...    }}} As to Scotshobbits in particular (and generally), I can only concur. Scarily realistic.