Stolen Goods

Nine thirty on a Sunday morning and my fares emerge tumbling and laughing like two kids from a local all night house party. Two guys one from Australia and the other from New Zealand and both built like brick outhouses, the car sat down and the springs groaned when they fell into the back seats.
"What you get mate come on lets see" said the Aussie, the Kiwi laughing puts his hand inside his shirt and pulls out a bath towel. "Well I guess I win then, you won't beat this mate" he says to the Aussie, then puts the towel on his head like an Arab headdress and starts to whoop loudly. "Oh yeah" says the Aussie and starts rummaging under his clothes, after a struggle he produces a large round kitchen wall clock. After arguing for a while about who the winner was they decided that I should be the final judge. I protested that "I didn't know what I was supposed to be judging" and that "I wanted nowt to do with stolen goods." "No mate you've got it wrong" said the Aussie and went on to tell me that they went to friends house party's most weekends and it had become a standing joke that they secretly borrowed items. The next week the householders were invited to another house party where the possessions would be on show, and bets were taken about how long before they spotted them. "Now then who wins" they demanded, both were big bruisers so I had no easy option.
Looking in the rear view mirror and taking a last look at my full set of teeth and my face with its carefully cultured lived in look, I made the choice. The Kiwi with the towel still on his head took on the solemn look of a bewigged high court judge and announced "yeah fair do's mate the clocks the winner"