Ars Gratia Artis. In Louth. England, Office Worker Gordon Goddard was fined $14 and costs for counterfeiting, in spite of his barrister's explanation that he forged -L-5 notes because they "presented a challenge to him as an artist."

Bar Correspondent. In Toronto, Thomas Allen awed fellow tosspots with accounts of his war exploits, wound up charged with impersonating a Canadian army lieutenant when an unimpressed veteran called police after Allen soaked up several rounds of his admirers' hooch, made the stories too good.

Mad Money. In West Babylon, N.Y., after thieves broke into a house and stole between $5,000 and $12,000 cached in a feed sack, police found roughly $17,000 more lying around, got an explanation from ex-Cab Driver John Van Huda: "You know how it is, you need money around the house for emergencies.''

Press Release. In Tijuana, Mexico, after a guard ushered him to a cell following his arrest for interfering with judicial procedure and left the cell door open on the assumption that he was there to interview a prisoner, Editor Salvador Gonzales of the daily Reportaje walked out of jail, rushed to a federal court, got a writ prohibiting his imprisonment.

Home Run. In Antwerp, Belgium, surprised while looting a house, Burglar Raymond Raets fled, scrambled over a ninefoot wall, found himself inside the Antwerp prison.

Guest Stir. In Dallas, Jailbird Bobby Calhoun showed up masked on Confession, a local TV show, complained that he could not go straight because "police pick me up every time they see me," was arrested five days later when cops searched the trunk of his car, found part of a stolen safe.

Markup. In Seattle, Truck Driver James E. Lumpe was sentenced to 20 days for disorderly conduct after he swiped a $1 campaign button at Stevenson headquarters, tried to peddle it for $2 at Eisenhower headquarters.

Kiss Me, Deadly. In Boston, after she visited her husband at the Deer Island jail, embraced him affectionately, Mrs. Joan Witherspoon was arrested, charged with passing him heroin capsules.

My Heart Knows ... In Wahoo, Neb., when his wife spotted a wild blue goose flying by their house. Bill Behrens honked hopefully at it, found the bird liked his voice, held it in conversation while his wife got his shotgun, heeded her warning against hunting inside city limits, got in his car, kept honking as he drove slowly into open country, got out, honked again, blitzed the beguiled goose.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.