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2011-01-13T19:12:00.001Z

uıɐƃɐ ʎɐqǝ ɯoɹɟ pɹɐoqʎǝʞ ɐ ƃuıʎnq ɹǝʌǝu ɯɐ ı

A Special Writes

2011-01-03T22:02:00.001Z

A guest writer, a Special Constable from the massed ranks of MSC:

When I became interested in joining the police, being an obsessive I hoovered up any and all the information about the job, the organisation, the people and the ties that I could lay my eyes on. Many of my sources were obvious, some less so. I quickly dismissed The Bill as rather glammed up. I mean seriously, how many coppers are there as good looking and wholesome as June Ackland? I devoured sites like PC Copperfield's. I read his book. And then I thought to myself "surely not!?". At my day job things get sometimes get pretty bizarre, but could the police service really be shooting itself in the foot like that?

I have been a part-timer for a couple of years now. Not long, you'll agree. I have been assigned to four different teams in that time. No sooner have I got settled into the routine and personalities of one team is it disbanded and re-created under a new brand. One PC I worked with right at the start seems to have gone full circle the other way and we are now on the same team again - miles away from where either of us was all that very short time ago. I recently had to make a "business case" for keeping my locker in the station where I
work from.

A few pointless re-brandings and re-shuffles I can handle. After all, I have - according to the recruitment process at least - sufficient Resilience to carry out my role efficiently and professionally. But it's the other ridiculous barriers that hurt. We are now no longer supposed to work with any other team than our own. If my team is not working on a day when I can, then there is apparently no policing that I can assist with. I cannot simply turn up, present myself to the duty skipper and ask if there's anything he or she needs my boots for.
Never mind that the duty skipper is invariably overjoyed to have an extra pair of boots for a few hours. Never mind that working with different teams is good for the soul and the Personal Development Plan. It is verboten and I will be shouted at.

When I started I busted a gut to experience as much of the world of policing as I could. I did not want to be that special who didn't know what to do in a particular situation. I did not want to be the one who shied away from getting involved in something for fear of embarrassing himself. I wanted to be the special who was trusted not to wander off or make a difficult situation worse by saying the wrong thing. In my first year I was one of the hardest working - in terms of hours - specials in my division. I had the spreadsheet to prove it. But then it started to get harder. Having got used to supervising less-experienced specials I was suddenly not allowed to go out on my own. Having got used to working most weekends I found myself restricted in the shifts I could work. I spend more time being annoyed about the pointless hoops than I do actually out on the street. My hours have collapsed and the enthusiasm gets harder to muster.

Who benefits from all this? I don't know. There must be someone making something out of it or otherwise things would be left alone. Is the police service really shooting itself in the foot? If the frequency of my handing-in-my-warrant-card fantasies is anything to go by then oh boy.

WTF

2011-01-02T21:56:00.002Z

I was just catching up on some TV programmes I had recorded, and watched a HIGNFY episode.

They stated on it that the average taxpayer pays 62 pence per year for the royal family; but £38.00 per year for legal aid.
Before I have an apoplexy, can someone confirm or deny this?

In other news, I emptied out an old locker recently, and found one of my favourite complaints, where a member of public had written in to complain after seeing me trying to arrest a violent drunk outside a pub in one of our town centres.

She had written that she was with her children and was disgusted to see me rolling around on the floor with the suspect, and that I should have used 'consideration' that there may be children present, and to think of the effect witnessing my arrest would have on their children.
My Inspector called me into the CAD (Control) room to give it to me, and just said "Here you go, you heartless bastard." Oh the hilarity.

EDIT - a poster called Stumo posted this:

http://lawgazette.co.uk/blogs/news-blog/the-true-cost-legal-aid-cuts says public funding of legal services is £2 billion per year

http://www.fool.co.uk/news/investing/2010/09/21/mr-average-taxpayer.aspx - there are 30.6 million income tax payers

simple division gives £65 per person; the "average" will be somewhat skewed from that, and the £2 billion may not just be legal aid - but it suggests it's in the right region...

Officer Down

2010-12-15T17:22:00.003Z

A PC and PCSO have been attacked and stabbed whilst at a bus stop in London; The PCSO is said to have serious injuries, whilst the PC is believed to be in life threatening condition.

Thoughts with this officer and his family, and his colleagues.

News report HERE

An example of the dangers that are faced by our bobbies, and the willingness they have to get stuck in armed with a can of deodorant and a stick.

According to the news report the suspect was wanted on recall to prison. Which means he was SUPPOSED to be inside but had been released early; then continued to offend on the outside.
His release should bring shame to the people that allowed him out. This incident is fully the responsibility of the person who pulled the knife on the Police Officers. But the people that have created the system where he was allowed out to do this need to take a long hard look at themselves.

2010-12-12T15:10:00.002Z

After being involved in a few of the student protests over the past weeks, I had the dubious pleasure of watching last week's events unfold late into the night on the various news channels.

Anyone who has done public order policing trains for this kind of situation, but equally doesn't want to ever face it. Well done to the boys and girls on the front line.

The met has released the pictures above of suspects that they are trying to ID - click this LINK to go to the Met homepage.

MORTIFIED POLICE DENY BEING INJURED BY PONCES

2010-11-28T20:17:00.002Z

OFFICERS policing yesterday's student demonstrations have returned to work with serious injuries rather than admit they were hurt by some ponce called Ollie.

Many have claimed they were run over by a horse or fell off a drunk woman in a holding cell in a bid stop their colleagues finding out they were banjoed by some humanities-studying dipshit from Buckinghamshire.

Assistant commissioner, Roy Hobbs, said: "If the criminal element know we can be knocked on our arses by somebody sporting an absurd sense of entitlement and a man-bag we may as well set fire to the whole city right now."

Hundreds of protesters were 'kettled' during yesterday's demonstration, drawing comparisons with 1970's Kent State Massacre from a first-year history student with a full bladder and a head full of monkey turd.

But violence erupted as soon as police moved the crowd into a 3G black spot, leaving many unable to update their Twitter feeds with comments that will come back to haunt them when they are earning six figures at HSBC.

One police officer said: "I never thought I'd be kicked in the face by a pair of Doc Martens with daisies painted on them.

"When I got home, I told the wife I was in the evidence lockup pinching the kids some Christmas presents when a load of seized pornorgraphy fell on my head.

"If she knew the truth I'd be little more than a PCSO in her eyes and that's no kind of life."

Ollie Bishop, a furious and passionate 19 year-old from High Wycombe, added: "Gotta get down to it, soldiers are gunning us down. Should have been done long ago. What if you knew her and found her dead on the ground? How can you run when you know?

"Actually - forget that - she's fine. I think she just dropped her iPad."

News story courtesy of The Daily Mash

Thanks to my good friend Blue Eyes for pointing me towards this.

More Protests

2010-11-24T18:01:00.002Z

Zoe Williams - one of the heroes of today.

Quote from Ms Williams: "When I asked them what their motivation was they just said 'we're doing it for fun'. I don't understand that."

Once again, mixed with the worst of human behaviour is the best. The Coppers on the street trying to contain the trouble, and help their injured colleagues, and genuine protestors like Ms Williams and Aaron Porter.

A word of advice to any wannabe protestors - injured officers = PISSED colleagues.

Blah

2010-11-20T23:23:00.001Z

Rules Of Blah:

Platinum Card 15 - 30 years service

Officers in the above category are permitted:

1. Unlimited Blah during any tour of duty
2. The right to tell outrageous tall stories and swing the blue lamp without challenge - even if it's obvious they are lies or physically impossible.
3. However, all the above are obliged to mention the miner's strike, the Brixton/Tottenham Riots or any major act of terrorism or civil unrest and imply they played a pivotal role for which they are entitled to humble acclaim

Gold Card 10 - 15 years service

1. Unlimited Blah during any tour of duty
2. All Blah must be factually based, but subject to generous poetic license
3. May be challenged by Platinum cardholders only
4. Any non divisional Blah to be supported by a witnessing officer.

Silver Card 4 - 10 years service

1. Unlimited Blah when supervised by Platinum or Gold cardholders
2. Unsupervised Blah when in company of junior officers - subject to a strict enforcement of no more than an audience of four (4) other officers - none of whom are allowed to hold probationer status
3. May only Blah about any incident attended in company of a senior card holder after that officer has first declined the opportunity to do so or considers the Blah factor to be beneath his exclusive position.

Bronze Card 2 - 4 years service

1. All Blah to be limited to no more than 30 minutes per tour of duty
2. Must consult a Platinum Cardholder about Blah content before addressing the public arena
3. All Blah to be factual and witnessing officer to be present during presentation.
4. Any Blah from a previously worked division to be supported by MG11 from witnessing officer/s
5. Must accept all belittling and ridicule of their Blah efforts in good spirit
6. Under no circumstances to Blah to probationary constables unless supervised by a Platinum Cardholder

Probationary Bronze Card 0 - 2 years service

1. NO BLAH WHATSOEVER

Claire Solomon - Car Crash TV

2010-11-12T22:39:00.002Z

In this clip, the President of the NUS - Aaron Porter - is in my opinion an example of a good man and someone with principles; also someone with a genuine point to make.

Clare Solomon is none of the above. Watch and enjoy.

Notice how many people in this clip are wearing poppies...? Hint: Clare Solomon isn't.

The Least We Can Do

2010-11-11T11:11:00.000Z

Peaceful Protest

2010-11-10T22:31:00.008Z

A Peaceful Protest In our beautiful capital.

Our Commissioner says he is 'embarrassed' and that it was all unexpected.
Not unexpected by the troops on the ground, obviously. But I'm sure that penny pinching had nothing to do with parading the bare minimum of officers to try and cope with the thuggery that we suspected would happen. I actually have sympathy with the ideology of the 'real' protestors today, but not the mindless idiots that spoilt it. Or the mindless idiots that supported the violence when they should have been rejecting the actions of the thugs who have done a disservice to the genuine fears many currently in education have.

As one of my mates said whilst we tooled around in a public order carrier last night: "Lack of an overtime budget isn't going to stop them kicking off tomorrow. I mean, we can't just tell them there's no overtime available so they have to go home now. That's not the bosses plan. Is it?"

Gadget can probably put it better than me, and possibly with a hint more objectivity.

I do suspect that this is just a taste of things to come, and that we may well be about to experience a winter of discontent. I know I'm not alone in thinking that, most of my colleagues are also resigned to more protests, and more violence evident in them.

Canteen gossip today is suggesting that the havoc today was planned by our senior management. That we have been hammered in the press so much recently when it comes to public order policing, and the bosses have finally said "sod it, let them get on with it without our interference and see how it works out."
I of course have risen above this level of cynicism - but it'll be interesting to see our future approaches to public order incidents/demonstrations.

Question

2010-10-30T06:47:00.001+01:00

Question:

When you get back to your house at 0630hours from Night Duty, and you've been so busy dealing with Friday Night Fight Club that you haven't eaten for the duration of the shift, and you have a bite to eat on returning home before bed....

Is it Breakfast, Dinner, or something so far undefined...?

Goodnight.
Or Good Morning - you know what I mean.
Sleep beckons.

AID

2010-10-25T17:33:00.003+01:00

As the silly season continues, so our Aid requirement grows.
Police Officers throughout the UK will no doubt be very familiar with the idea of Aid warnings. The basic premise is that when the Farce you work for has an operation on that a normal division cannot handle, officers are pulled in from various places and departments to help out.

This can be in the form of going 'down Londontown' for some yellow jacket reassurance, policing protests, funkily named operations or - more often than not - sporting events such as football.
What this mens is that you get the dreaded email and discover that once again you have lost your rest day so you can spend it babysitting various groups around London. No, before you ask, there is no overtime available.

As a public order trained officer, it means a lot of time travelling around the Met in a battered public order carrier with a vanload of officers, all carrying a kitbag full of robocop gear that smells slightly of mustiness and sweat.

So a plea, from me and the rest of my carrier if the people in charge of operational feeding are reading this: Cabbage? You feed nine officers who will be spending the next ten plus hours trapped in an air tight carrier cabbage!?
Seriously now. Never again.

Peelian Principles

2010-10-23T17:30:00.000+01:00

Simply because they're talked about a lot, the Peelian Principles of Policing:

The basic mission for which the police exist is to prevent crime and disorder.

The ability of the police to perform their duties is dependent upon the public approval of police actions.

Police must secure the willing co-operation of the public in voluntary observation of the law to be able to secure and maintain the respect of the public.

The degree of co-operation of the public that can be secured diminishes proportionately to the necessity of the use of physical force.

Police seek and preserve public favour not by catering to public opinion, but by constantly demonstrating absolute impartial service to the law.

Police use physical force to the extent necessary to secure observance of the law or to restore order only when the exercise of persuasion, advice, and warning is found to be insufficient.

Police, at all times, should maintain a relationship with the public that gives reality to the historic tradition that the police are the public and the public are the police; the police being only members of the public who are paid to give full-time attention to duties which are incumbent upon every citizen in the interests of community welfare and existence.

Police should always direct their action strictly towards their functions, and never appear to usurp the powers of the judiciary.

The test of police efficiency is the absence of crime and disorder, not the visible evidence of police action in dealing with it.

Ooh, Nurse

2010-10-07T16:28:00.003+01:00

I wasn't intending my first post proper after writing again to be a rant. However, I posted a reply to a blog post that turned into such a long one it probably belonged as a post in the first place.

Hogday wrote a post about his medical history during his Police Service, whilst dwelling on the possibility of serving Police Officers having our pension cut or cut back.
It made me think, and I reckon my medical notes (if the job have kept them all) would be interesting reading for me. They'd probably bring back some nasty memories.

I know that I personally have physical scars - with me for the rest of my life - that remind me of some nasty incidents and will continue to do so every time I go swimming or make the mistake of exposing my pallid naked torso to the general public.

I've also had at least one injury that required six months of treatment - although I was back at work days after the injury occurred.

For me the most traumatic have been drugs treatments for HIV/Hepatitis/nasty junky diseases when I've been forcibly exposed to unpleasant bodily fluids.
Months of no sexual contact, no open wounds, scared to kiss family members goodnight in case you infect them with something painful or potentially fatal... a really horrible experience, and it's happened to me twice so far. Despite those not being as long lasting physically (once the all clear has been given) they are definitely the hardest to deal with.

It's not easy being a month into a new relationship and having to have a sit down conversation with your new squeeze and explain that sex, kissing, sharing toothbrushes are all out now, and that I need to check for cuts and scratches before holding hands. It's something that more than one young copper on my team has had to do.

I know people say some of those things are OTT - the holding hands thing for instance - but I'm not alone in taking it that seriously. I've taken the Queen's shilling so I take the hits, but my family and loved ones haven't and shouldn't.

The not insignificant 11% plus that I pay from my pay packet every month is part of the compensation for going through that. We're not in Basra, and I don't pretend to have the same risks as an active serviceman. But we do go towards the dangers, rather than away. We do this voluntarily, and put ourselves, our families, and our friends through the mill numerous times during our career. I don't think our pensions have been gifted to us, we've paid for them in money and sweat.

Babcock? Present!

2010-10-06T15:27:00.000+01:00

Breaking news: albeit entirely expected, the coroners court has found that the officers who shot Mark Saunders were justified.
Good to see the result, and it appears the AFOs involved spoke honestly and openly about the situation they faced. I hope the Saunders family can start to move on with their lives now, and put the incident behind them.
I also hope that the firearms officers involved can do the same, despite the stresses they've obviously been under since the incident.

In other news- ok, in my life - there has been a long and so far unexplained absence since my last significant post.

DUring the past few months (and before the last post I made) I have been subject to a false complaint from someone I had dealt with at work. Sadly, the complaint was serious enough to be dealt with by our Department for Professional Standards rather than dealt with on Division.
I've now been given the all clear after the long and uncomfortable wait and the investigation.

I obviously can't talk about the details of the complaint, but my job and mortgage comes first, so during the investigation blogging came to a screeching halt. Apart from the slightly drunk post about The Bill of course.

Suffice to say that during the complaint, I was fully supported by both my senior management, and by my immediate management in my current team and my last.
No one backpedalled desperately on finding out I had a complaint, no one refused to associate themselves with me, and no jobs were put at risk or dropped as it was easier than dealing with the fact I had a complaint against me.
No opportunities to apply for promotion or transfer were denied to me through having a malicious complaint ongoing, and I was fully supported all the way and wholeheartedly by the senior officers who I talked to.
And of course, at the end of the complaint after being informed that the complaint was foundless, I was then naturally told that the complainant would be spoken to regarding their repeated attempts to muddy the waters around an ongoing case and make scurrilous accusations.

Some of the above paragraph may not be entirely accurate.

The Bill

2010-08-31T22:04:00.001+01:00

The Bill - embarrassingly, I shed a tear.

Sgt Smellie and ex-Commander Dizaei

2010-03-31T20:27:00.005+01:00

So today has been an interesting news day for the Police.

In one article, we see that ex-Commander Dizaei has now been fired by the met.
Good riddance, and it's nice to see that we've finally rid ourselves of him.
Incidentally, the Met stopped paying him as soon as he was convicted - so at least he hasn't been adding to his nest egg whilst in prison.

Also, a verdict (and hopefully some closure at last) for Sgt Smellie.

When this News Story came out, I was uncharacteristically silent about the matter.
This was partly because I was actually at the G20 and so couldn't pretend to be objective so close to the incident. It is also because I know some of the people involved in this investigation.

My opinion now (for what it's worth) is that the courts made the right decision.
The video of Sgt Smellie striking Ms Fisher is uncomfortable viewing, and is not pleasant to watch at all.
Unfortunately, many actions within a public order environment are not pretty. Our sensibilities are understandably designed so that a woman being struck is not something we want to see.
But British law provides for the person using force NOT to be omnipresent, and NOT necessarily to be able to judge all of the facts in the cold light of day. Sgt Smellie was in the middle of a very long tour of duty (I did something like seventeen or eighteen hours on both days), surrounded by a shouting mob, jostled, objects being thrown, and attempting to protect the officers behind him who had their backs turned - and were dealing with something else and so unable to assist or defend themselves.

The thing that struck me throughout the video was how calm the Sergeant is - he does not look to me like a man panicking and unable to make reasoned thought. He looks like an officer in a pile of shit who calmly uses approved officer safety methods to build distance and space and to prevent either an aggressor or potential aggressor from attacking him. His serial are behind him and afterwards he goes back to staying at the back of his serial - Sergeants are trained during public order training to do exactly that, and to make judgement calls about whether to split or even turn the serial to deal with threats. He made the judgement call to protect his serial and allow them to continue to Police.

Have I ever hit a woman with a back hander? No. Have I struck a woman in other ways? Yes, absolutely.
Although we deal with hundreds (thousands?) of peaceful protests in the Met, we also deal with numerous public order incidents of varying description. Sometimes officers have to use force - and they should only be judged (as law states) by the information available to them and the situation they were in at the time.

EDIT - for my views on the G20, written after my policing experience there, see HERE

Not Political

2010-03-29T15:02:00.004+01:00

Twelve seconds of adverts to wade through at the beginning, but worth it I think.

Bill Nighy is one of my favourite British Actors.

Rude Awakening

2010-03-18T17:33:00.005Z

A few days ago I was on patrol with a colleague who had recently joined our team.
Whilst cruising around one of our many sink estates, looking for a wanted male, a call to a pub fight came out - it was closing time so not an unusual call to get.
"Any unit Bravo X-ray sector to a disturbance at the Hare and Billet Pub, Brixley Road. Informant states twenty plus fighting with weapons, on an I-Immediate grade."

As the units started to answer up, I called up and accepted the call as well. We weren't far, and I turned to my oppo and said "I wouldn't worry, that place is always calling in fights. Every time they mention knives or serious injuries or gangs, just to get us there quicker."
I pootled at a reasonable clip down the hill leading to Brixley Road, and pulled left at the junction by it. Blues and Rear reds left on to show other units where we were as much as fend off traffic.

My partner called up on the radio and showed us on scene - as he did, a bottle came sailing over the pub wall and landed on the bonnet with a thud.
Ah.
As soon as we opened the car doors, we could hear the shouting and "sounds of disturbance" that the sealed windows, chattering radio, sirens, and heater on full had hidden. I leant in the car and pushed the horn of it, activating the two-tone sirens again. I wanted the people fighting to know the Police were here, and hopefully stop... I also called up on the radio and asked for an eta for back up units.

As I did, I saw my colleague disappearing into the pub.

Muttering aspersions about his parent's marital status when he was born, I followed. I drew my baton and racked it, adrenalin completely failing to overcome the very real and well placed fear that had taken hold. As I got to the door way I was greeted by the edifying sight of my colleague coming back towards me, sharpish. "I didn't think it would be as bad as it sounded," he breathlessly said.
"And?"
"And it's as bad as it sounded."
As he talked, a pint glass hit the ground and rolled towards us. Followed by what appeared to be a chair leg, this time thrown with more conviction. Reacting simultaneously, we made our way back to our car to wait for more units to arrive

A borough's worth of Police units, and two public order carriers later, peace was restored.
In the wonderful way of drunken scraps like this, no allegations were made. The pub was trashed, there were bloodied and bruised people with ripped clothing scattered about, and numerous people handcuffed after showing aggression. But of course no one saw anything, no one knew who had started it, no one wanting to give details.

Fast forward to Custody an hour later, and a group of four Custody Sergeants getting very pissed off with large group of people being booked in for being Drunk and Disorderly...

A rude awakening for myself for thinking the call was LOB. A rude awakening for my colleague for thinking he was invincible.
And a rude awakening for the pub landlord for allowing the booking from a well known section of the community, known for their attitudes towards drinking and fighting.

Breaking Stereotypes

2010-03-16T14:03:00.003Z

Here in Metrocity, we are very aware of diversity issues and as street Officers regularly take a moment to challenge stereotypes.
As part of this drive for equal inequality for all, a couple of younger female PCs have been doing the kind of thing that one would usually associate with males.

There are two entrances to our custody suite; the way in from the yard (where the naughty people are brought in from), which is a set of secure metal gates, easily opened from the outside to let people in but locked from the inside.
There is also a set of double doors, in an airlock format, that leads from the cells to the nick. They work together so that one can not be opened unless the other is closed - hence the airlock idea.

The two delightful young ladies mentioned above have been known to play a 'game,' where they will pass wind whilst in the airlock area, thereby trapping the odours between the doors for later people to enjoy.

See? Metropolitan Police: Breaking down barriers, challenging stereotypes.

**EDIT** I post this secure in the knowledge that even if the girls involved read this and realised who I was, they would have more potential for embarrassment than I would if they went public...

Jailbreak

2010-03-09T13:00:00.000Z

Thin Lizzy sang: "Tonight there's going to be a jailbreak, somewhere in this town."

I'm going to take a stab in the dark here, and guess... the prison?

Meanwhile, an example of GOOD POLICING. And good protesting, come to that.

Police Racism

2010-03-08T18:42:00.004Z

Recently I was sitting around the table with a few teammates, a Sergeant and an Inspector from another team. We were discussing the various jobs we had dealt with or were dealing with, when a probationer PC piped up about a shoplifting job he had ongoing.

He'd just picked up the CCTV from the shop, which was of the usual quality - nice to have, but nowhere near good enough for a conviction by itself.
He'd played it back and had spotted a black male going into and leaving the shop at the appropriate time, and the suspect that he had arrested at the scene and who was sitting in custody was a black male.
The officer said "The useful thing is, there aren't many black people in that area, only two come in during the whole time, so that makes things a bit easier to ID him."

A long intake of breath followed.

The young in service officer paused. "What?"

Whispered conversation between the Inspector and Sergeant, then the PC was invited out of the canteen to have a chat about his "potentially racist attitude."
How have we got to this point, where a young, naive but eager PC is excited about the prospect of arresting a suspect and he is spoken to about his potential racism?

Yes, the words may have been misconstrued if seen in an isolated sentence. Yes, someone that wasn't in the conversation may have misunderstood. But in the context of the conversation, it was a simple case of a young copper wanting to be able to charge a recidivist thief.

The really sad thing is that the Inspector involved didn't for a moment think that any racism was involved, and the same goes for the Sergeant. What they didn't want (understandably) was to be seen to be allowing racism.

It's hard to keep up sometimes.

Piano

2010-03-07T18:20:00.000Z

My last post about PC Blakelock attracted a lot of attention, some of it negative.
As a result I've locked the comments and deleted some of the worst trolling.

I've absolutely no problem with being slagged off myself, I've put myself in the public domain like this so fair dos.
Some of the commenters that have had a pop at me in the past have also been correct.
However, using my blog to attack other commenters - or worse, the memory of a man like Keith Blakelock - isn't on I'm afraid.

Here is something slightly less contentious:

PC Keith Blakelock

2010-02-09T19:30:00.005Z

A very quick post - perhaps there is more good news after the Guilty finding of our mate Ali.

Police have now arrested a suspect for the Vicious murder of PC Keith Blakelock in 1985.

The story of his death is well known, but as a small reminder of the horror involved in the attack, he lost his fingers trying to defend himself from the repeated slashing from multiple weapons.

A photo of PC Blakelock's Public Order suit - each white tape represents a seperate stab or slash wound on his body.

The back of PC Blakelock's suit - after he had turned over to try to protect himself, he was attacked repeatedly from the back as he lay on the ground.

Good luck to the team investigating it.

LINK

Commander Dizaei

2010-02-08T17:53:00.005Z

A crook in uniform is as much a crook as one that breaks into your house late at night to nick your tv, if not more so.

Commander Dizaei has at last been found guilty, for Assault, Perverting the Course of Justice, and Wrongful arrest.
He's a shameful example of how appallingly a small minority of officers behave - and a reminder that rank doesn't always equate to a good person, let alone a good copper.

The Black Police Association were hugely verbal throughout, stating that Dizaei was innocent, and accusing the Police of racism for charging soon to be ex-Commander Dizaei.
This despite the victim also being from an ethnic minority.

Disgraceful behaviour on his part. When you "accidently" delete the texts that apparently were sent to you, and are believed by doctors to have self harmed in order to set someone up... I'm just glad that he no longer wears the uniform that I do.

As a final aside, listen to his 999 call, HERE

Again, embarassing. Firstly, his shout for 'Urgent Assistance.' This is a Golden phrase, and when used EVERY copper on duty will run - firstly from your area and neighbouring areas, then central units, then potentially met wide. If a Police Officer is in dire straits and is about to get seriously hurt, we will do anything including putting ourselves at risk to get to you.

He used this assistance call for his own lies - and listening to the tape, even if the arrest had been justified and truthful, there is no way that he is in an urgent assistance situation. He is calmly talking to the detained male (who was by the way in handcuffs) and frankly I'd be hard pushed to understand a brand new probationer calling for urgent assistance in those circs, let alone a supposedly experienced officer.

He also used bullying tactics and ordered the operator to let him speak to "Chief Inspector IR" - Chief Inspector Information Room. Whether he thought this implicit threat would help, or that he was entitled to special service because of his rank, who knows... I'm sure that if I called 999 and demanded to speak to Chief Inspector IR I'd be given deservedly short shrift.

And lets not even get into the hows and whys of him being in uniform, off duty, in a cafe, conducting private business deals, with handcuffs to hand.
Actually, why hasn't this been dealt with?

Snow - Naughty

2010-01-07T16:07:00.007Z

In case someone in Britain hasn't noticed, it has been snowing. A bit.
This apparently is a recipe for DISASTER. I believe that it is a fact that I am one of the only adults in the whole country who has ever seen this type of precipitation before, let alone driven in it.

At least, that's what the news items would have you believing.

Inspector Gadget once again sums up my feelings perfectly about snow and Policing. So much so that there isn't a lot of point me expanding on it.

Instead, I'd like to tell you a story about what happened to me a few hours ago. Driving along a less gritted and less well known track after having refs, I spotted a group of oiks hanging around at a corner. They'd eye - fucked me as I'd driven past earlier, and so I took a little more interest than I would usually. Especially when I noticed them packing their snowballs hard into their gloved hands.
Not a problem. I slowed down and waited for it - sure enough, the barrage of ice balls came and reverberated off the windows and doors with loud bangs. The little darlings.
Obviously, I'm beyond stopping the car and yelling at them for a little bit of snow ball action. Besides, then I'm pretty sure that there would have been a second supply of snow balls, and I hate having to dry my uniform.

However, a rear wheel drive car in the snow does have it's uses. A little squirt of the gas caused the back wheels to spin, and spray said oiks with the lovely brown, dirty slush that collects on the road in weather like this.

Was it wrong of me to find this the funniest thing I've seen in days?

Diamond Jubilee

2010-01-05T21:59:00.005Z

I've just been reading THIS news item.

So first of all I'm happy that in 2012 there will be another bank holiday. This will either mean that I get an extra day off (as rest to counteract the effects of working so many hours during the olympics) or an extra days overtime (in order to add to the effect of working so many hours during the olympics).

However, another, more pressing item has come to mind regarding the jubilee. Do any coppers know if this is another chance for us to get easily earned medals...?

Before anyone asks, I'm trying to not to even think about Jack Straw. Lets face it, even the medal made me start to seethe about politicians.

Christmas In Review

2009-12-29T17:29:00.002Z

Well, my Christmas shifts have come and gone.
Fun they were not, and I have a sneaking suspicion that my division wasn't too dissimalar to Stressed Cop's.

During my Christmas Day shift alone, I did or dealt with the following:

I went to a serious sexual assault, assisted with a short pursuit, was involved in three foot chases, kicked down a door, had a Christmas hug from three Ambulance girls, got involved in a large scale fight resulting in Officers calling for Urgent Assistance, handcuffed my reluctant partner during said fight, went to and chased off a number of gang fights, got kicked out of refs breaks twice, stopped and searched a few ne'er do wells and played thumbsy wars with an Ambulance Crew to decide a course of action for our call...

The thumbsy was probably my favourite moment. Not least because during said thumbsy war, our Section Sergeant arrived in time to witness my defeat at the hands of a five foot three petite Ambulance Girl. And then sigh before walking away from me muttering. I'm sure he misses me on our rest days.

I have to admit to a slight feeling of ennui before arriving at work on Christmas Day. In fact, I was pissed off and dreading it. My previous shameful post, an exercise in feeling sorry for myself, may well have indicated that.

The shift was all I expected and more. It was full of crap from parade onwards. What was great however, was the morale. A shift that none of us wanted to be parading for, understaffed and overworked - but determined to have a laugh. This went also for all the other emergency service and shift workers I met through the shift.

So thank you boys and girls for helping make my Christmas Day actually bearable. Please don't take it personally though when I say that I'd prefer not to spend it with you next year.

Happy Christmas

2009-12-24T20:01:00.013Z

Well, this may be more of a moan than a proper post. But hey, it's my blog - and you can't say I didn't warn you.
It's also link heavy. Tough.

So Merry Christmas. Here's to another Christmas working, the ninth year in a row that I won't be seeing my family, drinking and catching up with my siblings, laughing with loved ones or opening presents on the day I'm supposed to.

Here's to another 'festive' day of gang fights and alcohol fuelled violence.

Here's to another day of trying to keep chipper whilst waiting to start a ten hour night duty, another day of trying to remain sober and interested with the foreboding presence of the upcoming night shift looming large in my mind.

Here's to yet another day of taking a moment to stand watching the street, desolate apart from happy families going on Christmas walks and couples in love enjoying the cold before heading in to warm up. And another feeling of embarrassment as I smile towards them to show I'm part of their day; before the rush of heat in the head as I realise I'm not part of their day at all, they don't know me, and won't be seeing me unless their Christmas goes badly wrong.

Here's to another day of trying to comfort distraught weeping Burglary victims, and being unable to answer the question "but what about the kid's presents?"

Here's to praying not to have to deal with another RTA that leaves blood on my uniform and a destroyed, bereft family. Here's to the prayer being answered, and not having to knock on an unsuspecting family's door with a heavy thud and a heavier heart.

Here's to another Christmas Eve night by myself with nothing but a bottle with a percentage mark on it for company. Here's to answering cheery phone calls from friends and family and trying to keep the blackness out for the length of the phone call for their benefit.

Here's to another long shift, after a day trying not to think of the coming descent into an uncaring night, with no one but the LAS to wave to. Here's to another end of a Christmas shift, coming home to an empty lonely home and a cold unfriendly bed.

This year I will be thinking again of the men and women that will never have to share another Christmas like this again.
I'll also be thinking of the boys and girls that can't be home for Christmas at all, and the ones that will never be coming home for Christmas.

Merry Christmas readers.

Rage For Christmas

2009-12-18T19:29:00.002Z

Naughty Words...

Beano Down The Trousers

2009-12-12T16:05:00.000Z

You'll be happy to know that I was thoroughly put in my place and given a good old-fashioned bollocking recently.

Driving my patrol car about, I'd been searching for a wanted male who was a named suspect on the PNC (Police National Computer). He had returned to his ex partner's house and made off on seeing the Police arrive into a patch of grassy land nearby, desolate apart from the odd burnt out car and used drugs paraphenalia.
I had enthusiastically joined the chase, and in doing so had got a puncture whilst attempting to drive along a gravel driveway.

Our exploits had taken us close to another force area, and knowing their nick was closest I limped the car there to survey the damage.
The tyre had a serious puncture and the car was going nowhere with it in place. So, I used my intiative (a bi-yearly event), borrowed some tools from the neighbouring force's garage hand, and then replaced the tyre with the space saver. After five minutes work, I radioed my Sergeant and told him what I was doing, then I drove the car to Kwik-fit and replaced the orginal tyre.

Sorted, and back on the road in less than an hour.

Oh no. I was then told not to take any calls, and instead to return immediately to my nick. Where I was given a bollocking by a Sergeant for changing the tyre myself. What I should have done was parked the car up at the side of the road, then called out VT to attend. I have done this before. It takes about two hours at least.
And of course, they don't carry tyres either. All they do is replace the puncture with a space saver, then let me drive to Kwik-fit to get the original replaced.

I was bollocked good and proper, and told to think about the consequences if I had injured myself whilst changing the tyre.
The fact that I used Non-Met tools in a Non-Met nick was apparently even worse, and the Sergeant (not from my team incidentally) mentioned that he was considering an action plan for me because of what I had done. I was too shocked to argue, and left the office thoroughly chastened.

It's why stories like this one from Inspector Gadget don't surprise me in the slightest.

Today is Yesterday's Tomorrow

2009-11-28T14:01:00.007Z

I was drinking with a good friend and colleague of mine recently, and ended up thinking back to my college days. My first kiss was from a girl a couple of years older than me, called Denise.
Her Dad ran the local scrapyard.
The song "Stuck on You" by Lionel Richie was playing and I was frankly terrified.
And slightly bemused, if I'm completely honest.

Anyway, shortly afterwards she broke up with me and went out with my mate Dale. Dale was shorter than most people of our age, but a great footballer. Fair's fair.

Fast forward a year or two (ok, maybe quite a lot more) and I've had my fair share of break ups and break downs.

The interesting thing is that I've managed to break up with and be broken up with, and on each occasion I've managed to do it without involving the Police.
Yet, I often feel I'm in a minority there. As any Police Officer knows, no matter how ridiculous you may think your 'issues' are, our informants from our calls can always beat them.

There is almost nothing that will not be sent down to a patrol unit to deal with. Unfortunately, if a call is a "type 29" - ie a domestic, then a unit will have to attend. Regardless of whether a crime has been committed or even alleged. In fact, regardless if a crime is even possible.
A domestic type call is anything that refers to a call between a husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend, exes of any description, siblings, parents, family members and any sexual partners past and present.

In the incestuous estates we inhabit on our day to day patrols, these are most of our suspects, victims and witnesses.

As soon as the domestic tag is applied to a call, then everything that follows is out of our hands. If we attend and there is no allegation at all, no injuries, no hint of violence, then we only have to do the following: Full statement from each party involved; A statement from the officer on scene; A twenty six page domestic violence book; A Full 'non-crime' Crime report on the computer (taking between forty five minutes and an hour and half dependant on typing skills); A seperate computer report on any children or vulnerable people in the premises or involved in any way. So you result the call, justifying your actions. Then complete all the above, justifying your actions. Then you bring all the above to your Sergeant, so he or she can then justify your actions.

Keep in mind that these are for NON crimes. When there has been a crime or an allegation made, then obviously you arrest and all the above is used as evidence.

Amongst the many, many calls I have been to needing all the above for a non-crime domestic are a psychic wife who had had visions that something bad was going to happen to her husband, a woman who had called police because her boyfriend wouldn't get off the computer (relatively common, that), a woman who had called police as her boyfriend had cheated on her and wanted him arrested for it, and many, many "threats" by text. Of the "u slag u shaged tracy an shes got hiv i hop u get cancr" type.

Examples from other officers are always welcome.

I'm in a stable relationship at the moment, but even in my worst relationships I have never felt the need to call my colleagues down to join in. In fact, I've always wanted to keep my private life... well, private.

Am I alone in this?

PC Bill Barker - RIP

2009-11-21T11:58:00.004Z

RIP PC Bill Barker.

I'm sure that his colleagues at the moment are grief stricken, and equally sure that they are still out at work helping in the flooded areas in Cumbria.

At the same time, I read about Wootten Bassett turning out again, this time for the 100th repatriation.

My admiration for that town, turning out repeatedly to honour returning fallen troops, is boundless.

Keep Cool

2009-11-17T23:23:00.004Z

That was the good news, as provided by an anonymous commenter. Thank you.

Now, go look HERE at Gadget's blog.
Most of the time I avoid any type of political comment on the Police. Gadget, Copperfield, Nightjack and many others have that covered in a more eloquent way than I could ever hope to do. In fact, you'll be pleased to know that due in part to my dimness, and also in part to my being knackered, it took me three attempts to spell "eloquent" just then.

However, Gadget's post above just infuriates me. A particularly brave officer is injured and the Chief Constable unable to comment as he is a serving officer.
As a serving Police Officer myself, there's obviously no way I'd suggest that people should email into the Police Force mentioned and take the Chief to task for what I see as pretty appalling behaviour on his part.

It's just what I'd do if I wasn't in the job.
But I am.
So I won't.

Watch the video again, it'll make you feel better.

Introducing The Hardline

2009-11-09T21:23:00.008Z

Shortly before my enforced absence from both the blogging and Policing world I got an email from a Police Officer with perhaps the funniest signature I’ve read in a work communication.

It was so funny that I had to ask the officer concerned whether he actually used it – he told me that not only did he use it, but that almost no one had noticed.

This was either a joke that I didn't get, or an elaborate lie in order to test my credulity.

Alternatively, my Inspector is more observant than his.

My numerous attempts at creating signatures were quickly thwarted. My first three were trialed in emails to my whole team. I knew when my Inspector had read the first by two methods. First, my outlook folder has the "read" reports turned on. Secondly, after fifteen seconds there was a bellow of "AREA!" from the office.

After the first three, I simply sent the next ones directly to the Inspector for him to proof read. I'm relatively sure that he may have found at least one amusing, and also just as sure that he doesn't even have a computer at home - let alone the will and ability to waste his evenings off reading Police blogs.

So, any suggestions at an email signature are welcome. I will actually use the best of them- but acting on my Inspector's orders, I am not allowed any reference to: obesity, teenage obesity, any type of warfare, Dog the Bounty Hunter, or CAMRA.

Nor any mention of fishing, hypnosis, or ripped jeans.

The Least We Can Do

2009-11-08T22:40:00.001Z

Notting Hill 2

2009-09-01T22:51:00.001+01:00

Yes, this was slightly delayed.
For once, there are real reasons for it. Unfortunately, I have suffered from complete computer failure. This was catastrophic, but relatively easily fixed.

However, this was followed by an assault and injury on duty, leading to a brief stay in hospital and as a direct result a move away from my normal job in the Police.

If anyone is still reading - let alone worried - I am almost fully recovered and in fact have now got to the point where I'll be missing the prescription drugs I've kindly been supplied...

These are all that survived my appalling day at Notting Hill:

Outside the operational feeding centre. Yummy...

My pillow for my 'eye resting' time.
Not as comfy as you might think.

A blue light blat through the car-nee-val. Just before we got an interesting and so far unidentified substance liberally thrown over the windscreen.

Notting Hill - Day 1

2009-08-31T00:23:00.005+01:00

It's not all fighting in the streets and eating jerk chicken you know.

Neither is it all getting deafened by the floats and sound systems, being crushed by the crowd, or being asked for directions to the tube station for the three thousand, four hundred and sixty second time.

No, in between patrolling and dealing with incidents, we have to keep up with a gruelling and punishing fitness regime:

It's not easy being a Policemanofficer you know. Level II public order suits do not lend themselves naturally to any kind of physical activity.

There will be more photos tomorrow from Monday's fun. In the meantime, if you're not sure what I'm talking about check out the Police Slang post. Then look under "Not Carnival Related."

Feeder

2009-08-11T15:38:00.005+01:00

Over the past few days I've not been sleeping, and trying to work out why. As an actual, real life diagnosed insomniac with the meds to prove it, this isn't in itself unusual. It's something that happens regularly. However I've found that trying to work out what might be bothering me or keeping me awake can help.

Like exploring a cavity in a painful tooth, this isn't always pleasant and can throw up surprises you didn't want and weren't expecting.

One of the things I ended up thinking about was a call I took a few years ago.
It had been a long summer and even fans of the heat like me were looking forward to shorter days, cooler temperatures, and longer tempers. At forty minutes to going home time, a call came out for a child being assaulted by their parent.

This by itself is not an unusual call - most of them turn out to be not an assault at all, but in fact a parent (rightfully) chastising a misbehaving child.

Not this one though.
As we made our way towards the call, sighing inwardly at how we thought it would turn out, the control room called up with more info. A second call had come in from a member of public that the child was bleeding and being thrown about. Our controller paused, then said "Area, this looks like a bad one."

A detailed description of the adult was given, and sure enough as we TOA'd (Time Of Arrival) at the scene, a male grabbed a young toddler some distance away and started waddling away. Me and my partner, Dan, stepped out and broke out into a jog to catch up. As we did, the male started running - with a two year old in his hands, he wasn't going anywhere.

Other units were already running at this point, but I called up and updated on the male making off. As we ran across the car park, sweating already in the humid heat, two more marked Police vehicles arrived on blues and stopped, doors slamming as the officers moved to head off the male.
All this whilst being watched with blank expressions by groups of people - at least, the ones that weren't out and out eye fucking us.

The male ran into a block of flats, one of many on our sink estates with no security or key fob to get into the communal areas. As he ran in, he dumped the toddler on the ground - why not, he was only being slowed down carrying the child.

We didn't see this, not until we ran into the building. We were still some distance off, but not far enough to not notice the reaction of the local residents.
Seeing us running, and seeing now where we were going, groups of our local gang members and druggies were drifting into the building and melting away at speed.

As me and Dan hit the door and went into the building, we were in time to see the last four or five melt away into the shadows of the stairwell. I'd estimate perhaps twenty five people had headed away from us. They'd seen the Old Bill were here, and decided that perhaps their outstanding warrants/pocket full of drugs/illegal weapons/house full of counterfeit goods should remain theirs for the day and so had made their exit sharpish.

Every one of them, without hesitation - and every one of them passing the crumpled form of a beaten, bleeding, bloodied body of a two year old boy dumped unceremoniously on the stained concrete floor. Lit by the yellowed but still working strip lights, it was impossible to miss the child lying there. Left in the middle of the corridor, the residents had obviously stepped over him in their rush to keep their gear secure.

I knelt by the child, and sent Dan forwards: "Go. Go, get the fucker!" As more coppers filtered past, I checked for signs of life. Breathing, movement, and open eyes filled with tears and terror. And blood everywhere.

Yes, we caught the suspect. He tried to hide and on being approached by Police Officers used street furniture as missiles before being very definitely arrested.
I wasn't involved in any of that; instead I had abandoned any pretence of professionalism or duty and had insisted on riding in the ambulance, had insisted on cradling the child all the way there and holding on until the nurses at the A&E managed to convince me to let go.

The only thing that really stayed with me from this call was the response of the people on the estate. Not one of them stopped to check the child, and instead chose to cut and run. After suffering an assault from his stepfather, the child had had to endure a lesson in London Estate politics, and lay broken and bloodied on the floor, watching as adult after adult abandoned him and left him to his private pain.

I only post this now, as two of the other officers involved have left the job for good, and the other main participant doesn't even own an internets, let alone use one.

Incidentally, I worked out what was keeping me awake. I reckon it could well have been the beer I'd been drinking during the day after all...

PR Procedure

2009-08-10T18:38:00.005+01:00

Here in Metland.com, we used to have a control room per division.
It was only two years ago that the Met "upgraded" and got rid of all the local control rooms. Now we have a set of call centres where people, often with no local knowledge and no background to the area they are working on, try and despatch calls and keep a lid on the officers on the ground.
Most importantly, they're the ones that get help to me when I call for it.

As you can imagine, most of us hate the new system and long for the days of the CAD (Computer Aided Despatch) room back, so you could pop in at 0300hours and share a doughnut and a chat.
The advantages were huge - the local CAD room knew each officer, knew who was hard working and who needed a prod, who needed to be referred to the Sergeants and who could deal with what call well. They knew when someone was taking the mick, and also knew when to give an officer space - eg not sending an officer with a recent bereavement to report a sudden death.

They also had local knowledge, and so when a call came out even before any intel checks were done, often the controller would pipe up "Units running to this call, that's Danny Banksies address, be aware that last time we had to get the short shields out as he had a knife." Things that are done through intel checks now, but often too late. And intel checks can never replace the indepth personal knowledge most of our control room staff had.

However, what I miss most is something else completely. Before our transition away from local CAD rooms to our centralised 'Metcall,' our radio channels were not routinely recorded.
Add this to the many varied relationships that sprung up in the team, often between coppers and civvy staff in the control room.

That would mean you could sigh with joy at exchanges like the following near the end of a shift:
BX: "Any unit free to deal with an I grade call, a type 29 at Johnson Square House, male assaulting female now with sounds of disturbance?"
BX21: "Bravo X-ray, show Bravo X-ray two one to your last call."
BX: "Received."
Pause.
BX: "Bravo X-ray two one receiving Bravo X-ray?"
BX21: "Go ahead."
BX: "Steve, if you're home late then you can drive yourself to the bloody pub tonight. Bravo X-ray out."

Domestic harmony on the way to a domestic. Bliss.
Sorely missed in my opinion.

Foot Chase

2009-08-02T14:59:00.001+01:00

One of the laws of Policing is that whenever you get a group of coppers with any experience together, especially if there is alchohol present, the war stories will start coming out.

Some of them are even true and not embellished with layer upon layer of fabrication.

A tendency at times like this, is to approach these stories slightly cautiously, especially if you don't know the group as well as you could.
A lot of the stories start with "This copper I once knew..."

This reminded me of a similar one - about a copper I used to work with, a grizzled old sweat who had been there, seen that, and done it all. With an almost superhuman ability to drink tea and coffee.

Although I have talked about my experiences with both vehicle pursuits and foot chases here and here, I also had one of my first ever foot chases with this guy.

Mark had been tasked to sit in a road that had newly been made a one way street, and stop and "advise" people that were ignoring this and roaring through anyway. It had previously been used as a cut through and after a few near misses the residents had understandably complained.
Filled with the kind of glee that only a thirty year copper can feel when tasked with a job like this, he collared me and brought me along to join in the excitement.

It was actually a great job - a lovely sunny day, no paperwork as we were 'advising,' not sticking people on. Sitting there in shirt sleeves, no vests, and being brought cold drinks by the residents - grateful that for once the Police had listened to their requests.

After about two hours, a little Peugeot turned into the road ignoring the no entry sign and barrelled towards us. I shuffled out from the cul-de-sac where we were parked up, and raised my hand. No response. And I was even wearing my hat. The cheek.

The car continued on its merry way, leaving nothing but a trail of exhaust smoke and the smell of a car that hadn't had its oil checked for some time.
I of course used my literally weeks of experience to leap into action, and so stood there, arm still outraised with my mouth doing a very good impression of a goldfish.

The area car thrummed alongside me, and Mark said "are we going after it, or are you hoping he's going to change his mind and come back?"
I snapped out of my little moment, and clambered in to the passengers seat. Mark hit the blues and I felt the surge as the kick down pushed us back in our seats.
"Shall I call it in?"
Mark had a grim look on his face: "Nope, he'll stop. He's not going to get away from us in that."
Sure enough, the car turned a quick right out of the road, and as we caught up and did the same it came to a sudden stop.
The driver, obviously a local with knowledge of the area, leapt out at a run and headed down an alleyway that ran along the back gardens of the houses.
I jumped out as well, as did Mark. I was positively shaking with the adrenalin and excitement, and held the radio in my hand like a sword of justice and truth.

Running up the path, I shouted some unintelligable nonsense into the radio about the foot chase. Mark later told me that he kindly translated for the control room so that they could understand what I was trying to say.
Whatever, I could hear units answer up and start to make their way, and even heard two tones in the distance. Other than that, all I was interested in was the suspect ahead.
This was before my night duty diet consisted purely of kebabs, so I felt pretty good about catching the suspect. Now it will depend purely on whether it is before or after I've eaten - I keep myself relatively fit and can still do the shield run in sub two minutes, but after a kebab I need time to adjust...

On this occasion, I hadn't eaten and was desperate to get this fella.
As we ran along the alleyway, a man came wondering out of a side turning further along, with a dog on a lead. Bald, with the traditional string vest tucked in beneath an impressive stomach. He didn't even factor into my thinking.
Not so for Mark. He took this opportunity to utilise a skill he picked up as a Sergeant in the army: a bellow so loud and deep that even in my blue funk, I heard it clearly. "Stop him! He's a rapist!"

String Vest didn't hesitate for second. With surprising agility, he swung and kicked the suspect in the shins, knocking him straight to the ground. Me and Mark ran up, and leapt on him to apply the cuffs.
"Thanks" I managed to pant out. String Vest didn't even break his stride and stepped over us struggling to get the cuffs on, quietly saying as he did so "You're doing a splendid job lads."

2009-07-15T14:37:00.003+01:00

I have been posted with probationer officers regularly for quite some time. Most have been great, a couple have been complete nightmares, and a couple have left the job since.
Not due to being posted with me, I hasten to add.

Because of that, it's a nice experience to spend time with less fresh officers.
I actually like going out with probationers, but occasionally it's relaxing to know that I don't have to worry about what the other copper with me is doing, and can just trust them to get on with the job.

I recently had an Aid requirement which was like this - for non Met officers, 'Aid' is when you are sent off borough to Aid other areas or departments with your presence, such as football aid, festivals, protests and the like.
For perhaps the only time I've ever had this, our entire serial of officers (one, three and twenty one) was bereft of probationers, full of skilled and capable officers.

An error on duties part, I'm sure.

Because of this, despite being a very long winded, busy, and violent type of aid, it was also paradoxically one of the most relaxing and straight forward.

Every time we piled into a crowd to stop a fight, I knew that my oppo would be with me. I knew that when we went into a violent situation single file I didn't have to worry about a copper getting lost, or being unable to deal with the situation.
I knew that when we were facing off, hugely outnumbered against a drunken heaving crowd, I wouldn't have to worry about anyone saying the wrong thing to someone in the crowd.

I mentioned this last point to a good mate of mine on my carrier, as we faced off against the braying crowd in question. He had to raise his visor to hear me, so I had to repeat myself.
"Hmmm" came his answer, followed by a thoughtful expression. This was not what I had expected. "What? Don't you agree?"
Another thoughtful face.
"Well now Area, yes, in theory I do. But instead of a half dozen probationer officers guaranteed to say or do the wrong thing, we have you instead."
Outrage. This from someone I had considered a friend, for years. "I resent that suggestion, and demand an apology."
"Area, you're a nice fella, but you know as well as I do that the public order manual has nothing about bringing a packet of joke sweets to work and offering them to the other coppers on your serial. It has even less about offering said sweets to crowds of thugs. Do us a favour, I want to get home before daylight tonight. Just shush..."

Huh.

Update Update

2009-07-14T14:19:00.002+01:00

Firstly, thank you to the many people that have come out of the woodwork and emailed or commented, especially the exceedingly polite emails that say in brief that they don't like my blog or subject of writing but still feel I should continue.

I am going to continue blogging, albeit cautiously.
So far, only one person in the Met knows about me and this blog - as of last week, this changed.
It's now two people.
I've asked the advice of someone who knows about this sort of thing and works in the kind of department that could be involved in 'getting' me, and she has been very supportive and helpful.

Basically, if I get fired then it'll be because of racist, sexist, or derogatory behaviour rather than simply having this blog.
Hopefully.

Because of that, I feel it's only right to start posting as much derogatory behaviour as possible.

Stand by for (many) further updates, as I've been writing posts without publishing them.
Some involve squirrels.

Thank you.

And by the way - Sierra Charlie is back. Drop by and say "yo homey" or something equally as 'street.'

Nightjack et al - The First Of The Gang To Die

2009-06-25T11:34:00.003+01:00

This is only a quick post.
Most people who have an interest in Police blogs will know about The Times outing Nightjack.

I know there will be many opinions about the legal outcome of the court case, but I personally think that The Times choosing to actively pursue Nightjack is a low action - it's also hard to see the reason why they felt the need to do that.

And now of course, many Police bloggers are looking at their blogs in reflection.
So far, we've lost:

Nightjack

Sierra Charlie

Ex-PCSO Blogs

Max

Metcountymounty

All of them have gone, directly due to the decision of the judge, and the persecution by The Times.
I'm in a similar position and still trying to decide whether I should keep posting. To those that have emailed my address in the top right corner, I will email back but I've been keeping my head down here and waiting for the dust to settle.
That includes the questions I've had from various press outlets - I'll reply, but I'm loathe to put myself on offer.

This blog has never been about getting hits, or fame. I've done mini-interviews and commented for various press publications, and everytime I've asked for the comments NOT to be attributed to my blog. Just as another Copper.

I love doing this, and I enjoy most of all when I get comments from people, validation for the time spent in front of the computer. But I also have a mortgage and bills to pay, a car to run, and a job that I mainly love.
I don't have the same political clout as Nightjack, Gadget, or many others - so hopefully I'm not so much of a target and instead am just seen as yet more inane witterings from behind the blue line. But I also don't have a plan 'B.' There's no book deal, no writing career, no trade to fall back on.

I started writing this a couple of years ago for me, to get the stress of a few manic shifts off my chest and because it seemed like a good way to chat about the job to no one in particular. I still have funny and stressful shifts, and I still want to write about them.

At the moment I don't know whether to continue blogging or just delete it all and get on with muttering to myself whilst sitting in patrol cars again. The problem with not doing it, is that I'll quickly become one of those people you see in the street fighting themselves. I have about four or five drafts saved with incidents of note, but am reluctant to post them.

Meanwhile, some brave people carry on causing trouble with this Police blogging lark.

Whatever your opinions of the deleted blogs, of the various blogs on offer about Policing, about this blog, whether you are pro police, anti police, or just undecided - I can't see an argument for losing the non censored, non official view from any industry. Much less Policing, a profession that has been subject to conjecture and attack, a profession that traditionally closes ranks, a profession that often is simply not allowed to explain their actions, thoughts and feelings to the wider public.

Short version - I'm still trying to decide what to do with this blog.

Seals & Crofts

2009-05-30T20:10:00.002+01:00

This has been a semi regular post to write recently. Another post apologising for my lack of them.
This is partly to do with a recent huge amount of Aid requirements, meaning spending very long periods of time in the back of a public order carrier.

It is also partly due to the fact that recently I have been doing courses. Courses that have the potential to (hopefully) make me some money and get to do some more interesting Policing type things. Although I've no plans to leave response team at the moment - I like my days off too much.

More important than either of those is the fact that I am actually quite enjoying work at the moment. A lot of my blog posts (as per the norm for Police blogs) are inspired by moaning. By bad shifts, by not enough time off, by crap from above.
All this and more is still happening.
But.
Sometimes in this job you just go through purple patches, and I am tentatively having one at the moment. The bad shifts keep coming, the crap keeps coming down and the calls don't stop.
But.
I am being left alone to play at work by my direct supervisors, I've got some more interesting things to do, and of course it's sunny.

And now I bring myself to the most pertinent point in my lack of posts.
It's sunny, and recently I have rediscovered the joy of making the most of my rest days. I've made new friends, strengthened friendships with acquaintances, and got closer to previously already close friends. I'm a lucky man. Barbecues, food, drink and company make the joys of the internets pale in comparison.

Must try harder.

R/T Set

2009-05-19T12:53:00.001+01:00

Is this thing still on..?

It was a lonely Sunday evening night shift, and we had but one thing to be excited about.
We had been warned that at 0100 hours the radio system would go down for five minutes.

Five minutes without calls being given out, five minutes with no back up if we were already dealing with calls or came across something direct.
Five minutes of peace...

As the night wore on, we were given regular reminders that it would be happening.

At about ten to one, the controller keyed up "All units Bravo X-ray, just a reminder about the switch off for maintenance for the airwave sets. There will be no receiving or transmitting capability from 0100hours for a period of five minutes at most. A repetition, no radio capability from 0100hours for a period of five minutes maximum. If there are any problems after the five minutes or the radios don't come back online, call me direct."
Silence
"Er, Bravo X-ray from BX201 - how do we call you direct to let you know the radios aren't working, if, well, the radios aren't working?"
Laughter around the borough. The femal controller keyed up again:
"Sorry petal, I don't make the rules. I'm sure I'll think of something by then..."

A wonderful example of prior planning by the met.

Incidentally, the radios did come back on line after just under five minutes, and no one died in that time.

Warning Formula

2009-05-10T22:40:00.010+01:00

This happened a few months ago, but I was reminded of it when attempting to clear my locker out of some of the debris and detritus that had collected in it.
A futile attempt at an unachievable task, incidentally.

Whilst sorting through the memos I had been handed on various ops, damaged uniform, discarded public order kit and paperwork that I needed to submit, I found a PNC print off that took me back.

I had been on patrol in a borrowed Patrol car, a pool car of the worst type.
High mileage, older model, smelly - Police readers will be wondering how this differs from standard patrol cars, but our motor was all that and more.

Whilst heading along a dual carriageway after resulting a domestic we had been to, I saw something that made me hit the brakes, hard. A car (a light blue Toyota Corrola) a short distance in front of me had obviously decided that they didn't like being on the route they were, and as a result had taken the (entirely logical) course.
Slowing rapidly from 70mph, the car had indicated into the right lane, then bumped over the central reservation. Finding themselves facing the wrong way into the traffic coming the opposite way, the driver had then proceeded to flash their headlights and honk their horn before driving a hundred yards the wrong way and turning off the carriageway into their intended road.

Myself and my oppo stared open mouthed at each other for a brief moment, then without any further hesitation hit the blues.

The manouevere that the Toyota had pulled was too dangerous to do, even with blues and twos on. It was getting dark, and I hadn't counted on ending up in hospital this shift.

We sped up to the next roundabout - luckily not far away - and span round and back on the opposite carriageway. A sharp left into the road the Toyota had gone into (for the more action minded of you, we managed an accidental prolongued squeal from the tyres at this point) and I slowed the car down to a crawl as we started looking down the side roads.
My oppo nudged me, and pointed to a set of tail lights ahead. "That's that expletive Toyota"
I pulled up behind the Toyota, which was heading along at a reduced pace after seeing the flickering of blue lights in his rear view.

The car drifted to the left and stopped. My partner got out to speak to the driver, and I ran the VRM (Vehicle Registration Mark) through the MDT (Mobile Data Terminal) in the car.
The Insurance tag flashed up - "NO INSURANCE."
Interestinger and interestinger.

My Mobile Data Terminal in action

I went to join my oppo and the driver. The driver was a West African, and indignant at being pulled over.
My partner took a couple of steps back and started to do a name check, keys of the Toyota now safely dangling from his belt. I approached the window to receive a barrage of abuse.
Apparently I am "not a Godly man," I am "an evil person" and "God will punish me."
This before I had even said 'hello.'

I pulled an IRB from my vest, and started to fill his details into the booklet. I had already decided that this person should not be allowed to drive after the stunt he had pulled, and that I would be giving him an opportunity to explain his dangerous driving to a court.
I explained he would be reported, then started to do the infamous 'warning formula.' "I am reporting you for the question to be considered of prosecuting you for the offences of Dangerous Driving and Driving with No Insurance. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention now, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."
Unfortunately, I was distracted and it took me a couple of attempts.

My colleague was standing behind the Toyota, illuminated by the flickering strobe lights. And giggling like a loon.

I noted the driver's reply ("You have no authority. I am a business man"), and went back to the laughing officer. "What's up?"
"Sorry Area. You can't stick this fella on."
"Why not?"
My partner said nothing, and just pointed to the rear window, with a window sticker on it.
A simple message: "God Allows U-Turns."

On to another call

'Cos It's Hard Duw, It's Hard, Harder Than They Will Ever Know

2009-04-29T02:27:00.005+01:00

Something found hanging in a Police Station somewhere in Metrocity.

Incidentally, a rarity by itself - the two silver stripes meant it was an Inspector's helmet, not something that has been issued for a long time here.

Cultural reference - miners used to turn their hats as well on retirement.
Something to remind them of the flowers that could have grown in vases over their heads.

To friends that have gone before.

Genius

2009-04-27T06:53:00.000+01:00

Patience = Low

2009-04-23T22:45:00.001+01:00

"Bravo X-ray two-two, Bravo X-ray two-two, an 'I' grade call now, Brixley High Street, PI Accident. Car versus motorbike."
"Received, show X-ray two two D-delta to your last - but we're running from the opposite end of the divsion"
"Received"

A two minute pause

"Bravo X-ray, show Bravo 2 to your last as well. We're clearing the last call and not too far"
"Received. Bravo X-ray two-two, can you cancel to your last? We've got another immediate grade call, this time at 27 Letsby Avenue for a confirmed sequential alarm."
"Bravo X-ray, we can, but we've just made our way through traffic away from that last location."
"Received, there's no one else - I'll send it through."

Another two minute pause.

"Bravo X-ray from Bravo 2 - sorry, we've had to 54 the vehicle with a flat tyre. Can you cancel us from the last?"
"Received. Bravo X-ray two-two, can you re-attend the Brixley High Street call please to the Persons Injured accident?"
"X-ray, received. We are nearly TOA on the other call though."
"Received, sorry to do this to you but there's no one else shown."

Three minutes pass.

"Bravo X-ray two-two, you can cancel to your last. LAS on scene and stating no injuries, drivers exchanging details and no obstruction."
"Received Bravo X-ray. We're going to stop for a break, my operator's started to feel sea sick with all this too-ing and fro-ing, and we're due refs."
"Um, X-ray two-two - can you just quickly deal with the other outstanding immediate call on your way back...?"

Yes. This is how I often spend my day. Although I dealt with quite a bit of self created incidents I came across direct, after twelve hours of rushing about today I actually resulted the grand total of one call.
A threats by text domestic from an ex-boyfriend's new partner.

Update

2009-04-19T19:08:00.011+01:00

So, an update is apparently due.

Not Metrocity

I have come back from peace and quiet away from the smoke, to hear that PC Gary Toms has died from the injuries he sustained whilst attempting to arrest a number of Robbery Suspects.
Sad news for the Police, for the Met, for Gary's department and team, and for his friends and family.

On top of that, more officers injured doing their duty.

I also come back to the news (via email) that we are still racist in my division, in case whilst away I started to believe that I was open minded or relaxed.
It's always nice to be told how you feel, in case you get confused.

Never mind. The being away did me good, not least because I managed to not think about the following: Protests, Detections, Crime in general, House prices, The Recession, Sleep deprivation and, of course, Shaving.

Instead, I have been mostly seeing this, whilst visiting Southernshire. Or was it Ruralshire..?

No Detection here

No fighting, spitting, domestic violence here.

No evidence of an offence in sight

Meanwhile, please give a warm welcome to two more Police blogs that have appeared.
The first is Southernshire Constabulary, a PC on response in Southernshire - of course - and the second (new-ish blog) is Sierra Charlie, an SPC based in Metrocity.

As Nightjack sadly leaves, others move to try to fill the gap left by his departure.

Ian Tomlinson

2009-04-11T21:25:00.008+01:00

I've had quite a few emails asking for my opinion on the death of Ian Tomlinson.
I've also had even more conversations about it at work, in the canteen, in the carrier, on scene at incidents.
I've also been asked about the incident involving Sgt Smellie and Ms Fisher.

I'm sorry, but I'm not going to talk about it on this blog - It's a little too close to home for me.

Instead, here are some links to Police Bloggers that aren't scared to talk about it:

Inspector Gadget

Sgt Stressed Cop

PC Michael Pinkstone

Ex-PCSO Bloggs

Ex-PC 200 Weeks

Ex-UK PC David Copperfield

PC Disgruntled

Sierra Charlie

And finally, a comment from Hogday. He's a gent, and this post has nothing at all to do with Ian Tomlinson's death.

Whose Street? Our Street!

2009-04-03T23:23:00.011+01:00

PC Area in his brand new hi-viz. NOT asleep, despite what his colleagues may say.

So - stories from G20, in no particular order.

A couple of people obviously read internet blogs, or at least the books that follow. I heard two officers (not from my carrier luckily) discussing how they'd try and spot Inspector Gadget.
And MCM.
And ASNT...

In my carrier we ran a competition on the second day for spotting the best bit of graffiti. The only rule was that the graffiti had to be on a Police vehicle. Lots of them had been damaged the day before, and so still had spray paint on.
Our favourite was one of the armoured warthogs with "PIGS" sprayed tastefully below the Police sign on the bonnet. Spot on.

Scary moment when I got hit by something, and looked at my arm to notice that I was bleeding, and bleeding heavily through my boiler suit.
Then a relieved moment as I realised that it was just tomato that the protestors had thrown.

Lots of interesting moments dealing with the less pleasant people, but you've all seen that on TV and probably are bored to death of seeing and hearing about public order contingents charging and being charged, so I'll leave that out.

The best moments by far for me were on the second day, at the Excel centre. More specifically, at the Operation Feeding and Deployment section.

A particular thank you to the level II serial headed by a female Sergeant that had most of my carrier lusting after her, and what appeared to be an all female crew in the carrier.
I of course kept it professional, but there was a lot of excitement from some of the more boisterous members of my team, and mutterings of transfers to the South London Borough where the carrier had come from.

Watching the TSG serials sleeping in the grass, after being on duty for 36 hours and still being kept on. One fella was talking in his sleep as the sun came out from the mist, and it was a genuinely bizarre sight seeing him muttering, surrounding by snoring public order officers lying next to a runway lined with coppers in beat duty helmets.

The view from the 'front line.' I wish I could also describe the smells.

Anyway - down to the important things (after the attractive level II skipper and her carrier obviously). Time to give thanks.

First - to the level three public order officers who helped us out. I'm very aware that you lot did the shitty posts without the praise, and we just got sent round to finish the fights you were in.

Second - To the catering crew at the op feeding centre. Lest anyone forgets, they were doing the same (if not more) hours as us, and getting paid a hell of a lot less than us.
They were also doing a bloody good job of cooking something resembling food, whilst at the same time giving a smile to each copper, albeit sometimes weary. At one point, I accepted a burger from a catering woman and made some joke about the hours, and she replied "fourteen hours and we're staying on till everyone is gone."

Third - to all the non-Met officers that turned up. Sorry for the stickers. And also for the incident with the food fight (that never happened).

Fourth - to the London Fire Brigade. Specifically the Silvertown LFB Station. If anyone knows the lads there, say thanks again for me. The station was pointed out by a couple of level three officers on foot patrol to our carrier, and we (like many that had gone before) made liberal use of their toilets, TV room, warmth and company. They went beyond their obligations and frankly showed us how it should be done.

All this amongst our struggles with the militants. It's not my place as a street monkey to say this, but I will anyway. I think that actually our tactics were sound, and most if not all of us did a bloody good job. I also think that the majority of genuine protestors were at the very most only an annoyance, and frequently friendly, intelligent and often entertaining.
Equally, the small minority that were determined to use force and attack everyone that stood in their way were shameful. They were the reason that the genuine protestors were held back and shepherded about, they were the reason that negative press was given, they were the reason for injuries on both sides, and they were yet another nail in the coffin for legitimate, lawful, peaceful protest.

As a very small example, I spent some time in the impromptu climate camp in the city of london. Despite my appearance in body armour, public order flame proof overalls and assorted kit, I had a good time. I chatted to lots of the people there, and agreed with many points of view. I didn't see criminality there to the extent that I had to take action, and was treated with respect. I was even told a few times that the protestors there were impressed with the Police action.
Some were surprised to learn that actually, coppers were also human and also that some of us weren't too impressed with the idea of our pensions, tax, savings and future earnings being pissed away by the people that were supposed to know how the economy worked.
When the decision was taken to close the climate camp - after over twelve hours - the vast majority left willingly and peacefully. It was (yet again) a small minority that prompted ugly scenes, and left a bad taste.

I was at the front line and saw officers injured, and despicable acts of violence.
But the violent lot were not the 'real' protestors, they were just rent-a-thug mobs. In my opinion, they did almost as much damage to the movements they professed to support as they did to the lines of Police that they attacked.

Rush Job

2009-03-27T22:16:00.003Z

Very busy at the moment, hence no blogging.
Yes, the G20 has a lot to answer for.

I'm obviously going to be home even less over the coming week, with my own shifts plus all my rest days cancelled and extended tours of duty. I have even been warned for two consecutive shifts on one day...

Can't and won't talk about G20 in detail until afterwards - suffice to say that we're all quite worried about it.
As my usually jovial Sergeant said today whilst talking about it: "It's going to go to shit, isn't it? I mean, we're buggered really, aren't we?"

Worrying.

Our Customers

2009-03-19T13:14:00.002Z

An example of our customers and the joy of working in a front office in a Police Station.

Power!

2009-03-13T15:15:00.003Z

One of my fleeting moments of power and influence.

It was 0800hours and a few of us had been called in on a rest day for a pre-planned operation, to dress up in plain clothes and go out looking for wanted offenders.
We had obeyed by turning up in the obligatory "plain clothes copper" uniform of DM booths, jeans, and North Face jacket with buzz cuts for the blokes.

Of course, the robbery squad were too busy to deal with any robbery prisoners. Same for the burglary squad, and the domestic violence unit are always snowed under with their prisoners.
So all three had requested that we didn't go out looking for any of their circulated suspects.

Instead, we were briefed to go out looking for SERCO breaches. Most met officers will know these - when people who have been electronically tagged breach their conditions, SERCO automatically send a fax to the force with the time of the breach, and arrest enquiries are (eventually) made.

The sergeant had called in sick. The DI looked at me - "Area, you're Acting Sergeant for this. I need a return of work on my desk before you head off. Cheers."

I leafed despondently through the dockets - I had one for a breach of curfew by four minutes. Hmmm.
Another one for a breach of curfew that happened on the day of his court date - the suspect had been at home since then, but had obviously got home late from court and therefore technically breached his curfew conditions by being outside the curfew hours. Not unreasonable when court finished at 1700 and curfew started at 1800.
A third breach of curfew by twenty minutes where the suspect's mother had phoned and stated he was ill and in hospital. This has actually happened some weeks ago, and since then the suspect had gone to court for trial and been found not guilty.

In all, we had one docket with a 'real' arrest.
The robbery, burglary, and CID dockets had been sprited away by the guvnor from CID.

I had six officers and three unmarked cars. I quickly came up with a plan: "OK, lets see if we can nick this bugger and be back for breakfast."
Sure enough, the suspect from our one good docket had been evicted, and the house was boarded up.
I sent the other cars out to verbally warn the breaches of curfew, then at 1000 hours with nothing left to do, we RVP'd at the nick for a late breakfast.

With the "return of work" threat ringing in my ears, I decided to be creative, and we went out hunting. Two officers on plain clothes patrol in one of our busier town centres, and the rest of us targeting our hot spots and seeing if we could turn over some gang members.

At 1930 hours we headed back to the nick - loads of searches, a number of drug seizures, two shoplifters, an arrest for PWITS (Posession with intent to supply) and one for a wanted male who had decided to kick one of the unmarked cars in a drunken haze.

I dismissed the PCs with me, and headed up to report our success to the DI.

Next day, I had an email waiting in my inbox (as did the officers with me) asking in the strongest possible terms for an explanation - apparently there was great upset at my decision not to arrest the SERCO breaches I mentioned above. "Verbally warned" was not the result they were looking for. Our self created arrests didn't count as part of their targets for their dockets...

Serves them right for putting me in charge.

House Clearance

2009-03-12T14:49:00.000Z

Two thirty ay-em, and we're heading towards our divisional HQ for a spot of porcelain patrol.

It's been one of those nights, and neither of us have had a single break in eight and a half hours of work. Imagine the stress on our poor bladders.

Of course, as we drive through the darkened glistening wet streets, our control room put out the "suspects on premises" call about a quarter of a mile from our location.
And of course, muggins here answers up rather than go and take the desperately needed comfort break.

Forty minutes later, and we're still waiting for a dog unit to attend as they are tied up at a job on the other side of the Force. It's raining hard now, my stomach is tying itself in knots, and I'm standing alone in the dark on a containment on a warehouse waiting for the furry land sharks to come and bite the buggers who have been caught on scene by a security guards whilst helping themselves to the company computers.

I know my oppo is inside the security hut with the guard, watching the cameras.
I also heard the toilet flush not long after him going in there.
Bastard.

"BX23, BX201, BX24 and BX82 from Bravo X-ray. Dog unit is still dealing and unavailable. Bravo X-ray over."
A pause, then a resigned voice "Received."

Sod it. This is how bad decisions are made. I decide to go in and look for them ourselves.

Short story, we got both of them eventually. I had to run, and ripped my uniform trousers for the umpteenth time. I also got a smack from a confused probationer who had blundered into the building without a torch and mistaken my jacket saying "POLICE" as a black and white sweater with a "SWAG" bag.

Nevertheless. Two bodies in, one for me and my oppo.
First time I've ever stopped at a garage to use their bathroom with a prisoner on board...

Throughout the whole event, I kept replaying Solomon Burke singing "None of Us Are Free" through my head. At one point the rain drops hitting my hat started to sound in time to the song.
Nights do something funny to me like that.

Luton et Al

2009-03-11T12:58:00.007Z

PC Pinkstone has also posted on this, as a Luton lad he feels "disappointed."

I'm as "disappointed" as anyone. But it also neatly answers a question that most coppers get asked on a semi-regular basis: "What's the worst thing you've dealt with?"

I'd say THIS kind of job is definitely up there.

Dead people, bloodied fights, violence - they are not pleasant but they are what you joined to do. Protecting people like these protestors against members of the public who are probably feeling emotions similar to you is frankly not what I joined to do.

I personally have huge respect for the armed forces of this country. The Police as a whole has a good relationship with the forces, and many many coppers are ex-services.
To have to protect a sickening group like the one shown in the video above is what is difficult about the job.

I've watched it a few times now, and my eye keeps getting drawn to an elderly man in a grey anorak and pie hat who appears to challenge the protestors. I appreciate I'm stereotyping here, but he doesn't look like the type for violence. Instead, he looks a lot like someone's Grandfather who is so upset and angered by what he sees he feels he has to react.

Rock and a hard place for the coppers there. Whilst on duty I've been to military parades, rememberance dos and funerals of local soldiers killed on multiple occasions, and the pride at those events clashes completely with the shameful actions of the protestors in Luton.

Norn Iron - Again

2009-03-10T16:47:00.005Z

I've been away from the computer a lot recently due to a very busy period of shifts and a couple of crown court cases. Added together it means I've had single figure days off in the last month or so.

No sympathy needed, as I got paid for some of it for once.

A quick post today - as many blogs will be saying, thoughts and prayers with our brothers and sisters in the PSNI at the moment, after THIS

Coming so soon after the attack on the army base, I just hope that this isn't a re-emergence of a greater threat in Northern Ireland to the security forces there.

Some of you may remember Belfast Peeler - he was one of my favourite (and in my opinion one of the best written) Police Blogs, until he was pushed towards making the decision to stop blogging.
I know that because of the way his blog was set up, he still receives any comments that are left on the site, even though they're not published.
Bearing that in mind, please take the time to pop over and leave a comment saying hello, passing on best wishes or condolences to someone who is now working in a more stressful Policing environment than most of us do.

Not a good time for the PSNI, nor the men and women of the British Armed Forces, home and away.

Off Nights

2009-02-23T14:28:00.003Z

A bit of advice for those of you lacking the requisite brain cells to think for yourselves.
As I do after finishing Night Duty.

When returning home from a long weekend set of nights, and stumbling half dead around your home at 0700 hours, do not be tempted to do first aid on yourself.

If you are, remember that the paste you are looking for in the medicine cabinet to soothe the cuts and scratches on your face is in fact Germolene - NOT Vicks Vapour Rub.

One is significantly more pleasant than the other to apply to your injuries.

That is all.

Toilet Humour

2009-02-20T15:06:00.005Z

I got called to assist one of our PCSO colleagues the other day.

It was very funny, albeit unintentionally.

Three PCSOs had been on patrol (in an unmarked car) in the town centre, and had been flagged down by an observant elderly gent, who had asked them for some assistance.
He had noticed a couple of young men in a public toilet being slightly more friendly towards each other than was socially acceptable.

The PCSOs promised to help out, then went to the toilet. Funnily, someone else had already called this in on the 999 system, and the CCTV cameras had been pointed at the facilities.
I was in the IBO (Integrated Borough Operations Room) at the time, trying to get a broken radio replaced, and so had a good view of the goings on.

After taking the elderly gent's details, the PCSOs got back in the car, and drove the ten yards to the toilets.
Two got out - obviously the driver wasn't planning on spoiling his day.
The two PCSOs then held a heated conflab outside the entrance to the toilets - I'm guessing they were working out whether they really wanted to get involved in this.
They then both walked back to the car.

Our IBO Supervisor is a canny Sergeant, and he had also been watching. He leant over and spoke into the microphone:
"Bravo X-ray from IBOS, can I have talk through please?"
"Go ahead"
"PCSOs outside Brixley Town Centre Toilets, can I have your shoulder numbers? I take it you're dealing with the nuisance call to them?"
A pause - both PCSOs stopped with the car doors open, then started to walk back to the toilets, defeated.
"Yeah, uh - show 7999 and 7123 dealing"

I started to feel a little pity in the depths of my soul, and said to the Sergeant "I'll go and help them out Sarge, my operator is putting on a crime report but I'm free."
I wondered down to my police car in the yard and started to trundle towards the location, a three minute drive. As I drove, the radio burst into life with a panicked voice: "Bravo X-ray - I need a unit here to assist!"
I started to drive a little harder and reached for the blues, I was very close at this point. "PCSO transmitting from Bravo X-ray, shoulder number, location, what've you got there?"
The breathless response: "Bravo X-ray, there's a man in the toilets and he's masticating!"

Um. I didn't know that was an offence...

Anyway, after recovering from the hilarity I arrived to find the PCSOs waiting safely outside the toilet, having opened a cubicle and spotted a young man entertaining himself before making a sharp exit. He was suitably dealt with, and the PCSOs drove away at speed, thankful to be out of there.

Incidentally, the male wasn't masticating anymore when I went in there.

Cheer Up

2009-02-18T22:21:00.001Z

After the depressing tone of some of my previous posts, a cheery interlude courtesy of a mate - PC Pinkstone.

And I leave you with this slightly sloshed thought: Have any of my Met readers ever actually met the famed "R.Duggan?"
A man who has been everywhere in the met, to the most unpleasant and feared parts of our stations.
A brave man, who so far has remained an unsung hero.

Operation Phoenix

2009-02-10T20:17:00.008Z

In Australia, Victoria Police have launched Operation Phoenix.

Christine Nixon, the Commissioner of Victoria Police says about the bodies: "Road by road, house by house, we are working our way through," she said.

"As we go into areas now that we haven't been able to get into before, we believe we'll find many more."

A horrific job dealing with death and bereavement at the best of times, and these are not the best of times for Australia.

Thoughts with the men and women of the Police and other emergency services at this difficult time.

The task ahead is being given to a new task force set up, read about them HERE

To the Officers involved in the coming investigation - go get the bastards.
I'm a big fan of Ozzy cops, and now so more than ever. Drinks on me, boys and girls.

Assault PC

2009-02-09T21:36:00.000Z

As an aside to my last post - I wasn't exaggerating.

Good on him for stepping up. I would be interested to know if the many witnesses helped the brave officer who had got involved, despite having no officer safety kit or way of getting back up.

I would also be interested to know if he'll be so keen to get involved next time...

What Now?

2009-02-07T23:54:00.000Z

So. Once again we have not enough officers on parade, once again we have no one to deal with the many outstanding jobs.

Once again we see victims calling for help and not getting it, or getting it too late. Witnesses not located and suspects not arrested.

Once again we see officers hurt, Doctors called to custody, injuries compared, visits to A&E for others.

A normal shift then.

Except I have an admission to make. Maybe I'm getting soft in my old age, or maybe I'm just getting grumpy. But I can't accept that; seeing two female colleagues comparing bruising and cuts from another violent individual whilst typing up their notes in the writing room.
They're not going to report it - why should they? They're off in an hour, and have a set of case papers to do. What would be the point in tracking down a Sergeant then spending up to an hour filling in the appropriate injury on duty forms on top of their paperwork and their trip back to the nick they paraded from.

So once again the figures are adjusted to give the impression that we're not losing the fight for the streets.

Usually, we compare injuries, talk about the incidents and then moan about the frustratingly inadequate punishments at court - eg £50 for hospitalising a Police Officer attacked randomly on the street.

This then inevitably leads on to the "what's the point" conversation. No, we have no answers for that question. But someone (often me) always makes a mildly amusing comment, then we head back out and take the next 'Immediate' graded call.

I've run out of amusing comments though.

I don't think it's acceptable for us to be injured so often. "Police Officer injured in brawl" means little.
When it's your colleague, your boss, your acquaintance, your friend, your travelling companion, your confidente, your lover... suddenly it doesn't seem so palatable.

I don't take insults, calls, crimes, victims or suspects personally anymore. I have dealt with all manner of violent deaths and injuries, come home covered in blood on numerous occasions (some of it mine), delivered death messages and dealt with sobbing traumatised victims.
Then slept like the proverbial log.

But whenever an Officer is assaulted or injured, I take it personally. Every time, and the problem is that it's happening every shift now.

This is a more regular event than most politicians will ever admit.

Traffic Stops

2009-02-06T12:02:00.004Z

I have talked about traffic stops, and my experience with traffic Policing on occasions before. However, I am confused by THIS news story.

Yes, it says that the Met will no longer be enforcing minor traffic laws - but that doesn't confuse me.

I haven't given a ticket for a minor traffic offence since my street duties days in the first ten weeks of my probation, and I can honestly say I've never given a ticket for no seatbelt or similar in my career.

I do regularly process people for No Insurance, No Driving licence, or other similar serious offences.

Partly this is because of time constraints, we simply don't have time to search out traffic offences. It's also due to the alienation of the public idea.

However, according to the news story at least, it states that we "no longer have legal power to enforce certain moving traffic offences involving non compliance with signs."

No Entry signs non enforceable by Police?
I personally think that No Entry signs are not a minor issue, in some places they are safety critical - hence why they are endorseable (points on the licence).
Surely publicising this simply means that people can do what they want in front of Police cars, safe in the knowledge the most they'll get is a bollocking?

Incidentally, I didn't get this "memo" at work about not having this power. Nothing's come through my emails, or my Borough briefings.

Stuff and Nonsense

2009-02-05T15:07:00.000Z

This has nothing to do with the Police. I've been searching through the blogger and internet world, and thought I'd show some of the Gems I've discovered.

This is obviously in lieu of a real post.

Bus Slogan Generator - a perfect response to the atheist campaigns on buses.

Natural Harvest - I'm not often lost for words.

Complaint Letter - one of the best complaint letters I have ever read.

FSM - Church of The Flying Spaghetti Monster

McDonald's Job Application - I don't care if it's real, it's just hilarious.

Ukelele Weeps - Showing that even the humble Uke can be elevated to greatness.

More Music Talents - Who needs a slide? Or a second guitarist?

And finally:
My Dream Car - Someone's selling it, and I'm still nowhere near affording it. I'll keep dreaming...

PC George Small

2009-02-04T06:57:00.006Z

RIP PC George Small.

Thoughts and prayers to his family - they've yet another tough day ahead of them. Hopefully the sheer number of coppers going to the funeral today will give an indication of how well liked he was.

Police Orphans Fund

NABD

Riders For Health

UDI

2009-01-27T23:50:00.006Z

Chatting to a Nurse at the local Hospital last week, I encountered a new term.

We had been dealing with yet another violent idiot that needed help but was refusing to accept it - for an example, have a look here at Kingmagic's post.
Basically, take that scene and transplant it into a busy London Hospital rather than a busy A&E anywhere else in the country.

Our suspect/victim/patient had been spotted having an altercation with a number of drunks in a local town centre. On our arrival, realising he was the target of our attentions, he scoffed all of his copious drugs supply rather than get nicked.

Cue a fight, followed by a roll around, followed by another fight, this time drug fuelled as his gear kicked in.
Of course, he refused medical attention. However we (unfortunately) have a duty of care, so LAS turned up and the not-so willing volunteer was transported up in the back of the Ambulance to the hospital, cuffed and stuffed and attended on by four knackered coppers.

And of course a chipper ambo crew.
Ambo: 1 "Name and date of birth please?"
Patient: "Fuck you, fuck you, I'll fucking have ya!"
Ambo 2: "We'll take that as declined."
Ambo 1: "Right. Doctor's name?"
Patient: "I'll fuckin' take ya, get these cuffs off! AAAGH!"
Ambo 1: "Ok. I'll take that as declined again."
Ambo 2: "Officers, would you mind awfully keeping the noise down? I'm trying to listen to the football results and frankly you're all making a bloody racket back there."

So, into the Hospital. Still kicking off, our man was cuffed with one hand on to each of the trolley rails he has been moved on to. Of course, he got a private room whilst the seventy year old pensioner outside continued to wait, but hey ho. Nurses and all staff were very helpful as always - security were also called to assist if necessary. This is always a very kind gesture, but the combined age of the two frail security guards there is similar to the age of three retired coppers.

Wonder of wonders, a Doctor was pushed forward. But wait, why were the two nurses and the staff nurse grinning? Ah yes, a new attendee Doctor.

"Can you take one of the cuffs off please?"
(Snigger snigger from the nurses)

Five minutes later, after a brief struggle, blood and medical liquids over the doctor, and a couple of extra injuries for all concerned all round, we stepped outside to chat and chill. Sedatives were issued pretty quickly after the very brief initial examination by the Doctor.

I knew one of the nurses quite well, and noticed a large bruise on her arm.
"You OK? Did he get you on the arm? If so he'll be coming in for that"
She blinked, and looked at her arm: "This? No, its fine. It's just a UDI."
"UDI?"
She stared at me for a second - "Yes - an Unidentified Drinking Injury."

Incidentally, yet another time where my boots are caked in blood, as are my trousers. However, we have to buy our own boots and we have been told due to budget restraints we are not allowed to order any uniform until the next financial year.
Wonder if I'll get in trouble for turning up for parade in my boxer shorts?

WiFi

2009-01-25T17:20:00.003Z

Quick question to all the intelligent and/or legal minded readers.

My phone is currently set to pick up WiFi signals automatically; there's regular places that I go with free WiFi access.

It's not unusual to see a car parked outside McDonalds on night duty for ten minutes whilst the driver checks their emails - the WiFi signal that McDonalds provides as a free service apparently stretches out to the car.

I remember recently a man getting nicked for parking outside someone's home address on a regular basis and hacking into their wireless internet access - but how does that compare to my phone? Quite a few times recently on crime scenes, hospital guards, constant watches etc, I've spent the time browsing the net.
On a couple of these occasions I've noticed when leaving the internet that I've actually been connected automatically to someone's private wireless access.

This is surprising in itself, simply because I'm shocked that there are still privately owned unsecured wireless networks around.

However, the point for me is this - am I committing an unwitting offence by doing this?

If so, exactly what..?

Busted

2009-01-23T12:17:00.002Z

Busted...

Ikea

2009-01-07T16:42:00.001Z

It's interesting what objects you carry on duty and never use - and others that you use that before joining you woudn't have thought about carrying.

Recently my most used piece of kit has been my Ikea Family Card.

NOT - as some might think - because there is a large Ikea store on my patch and with the Ikea card I get free tea and coffee.

NOT because I like to do a little light shopping for matresses whilst on my refs break.

But when I have to scrape the ice of my windscreen (again), it's simply the best.

Mark

2008-12-28T16:29:00.007Z

I think it's time that I introduced you to Mark. Mark is a Paramedic in the LAS, and a lovely fella to boot.
As I've posted many times before, without the help of the Ambulance Service on many many occasions, or Hospital Staff we would be Donald Ducked, many times over.

I've known Mark for years - years ago we worked for the same company, fell out of touch when we left (me off to the Police, him off to the LAS) and then met whilst at an incident a couple of years ago.

Mark is the kind of person that causes a thoughtful pause whenever he has spoken, whilst people try to work out if he is amazingly deep or is genuinely as shallow as he appears.
He is genuinely as shallow as he appears.

Example: Whilst talking about winning the lottery, on a bored night shift outside the local hospital.
Mark: "Yeah, if I won I'd buy Buckingham Palace and move in to there."
Area: "So you think the Royal family would sell it to you Mark?"
Mark: "Yup."
Area: "They'd give away generations of tradition, Britain's top tourist spot, home of our Monarch - to you?"
Mark: "Yup."
Area: "Why would you want it anyway?"
Mark: "Cos then when it's raining I can ride my motorbikes inside."
Accompanied by the look of smug intelligence. Like I hadn't thought of that.
"Then I'd knock the corridor walls through so I could ride from one end to the other, like."

Anyway, one of his most endearing and frustrating qualities is his complete inability to master any kind of attention span. A couple of weeks ago, we were both at an incident where we were on 'standby,' a non-specific task that involves standing around for hours before being 'stood down.'

As the hours went by and I ran out of papers to read, I wondered towards Mark who was sitting in the driver's seat of his ambulance staring blankly out of the window. With no sign of his oppo, I tugged the door open and climbed in to the cab next to him. As I did I noticed his partner, crawled up in a foetal position and snoring gently on the stretcher in the back of the ambo.
"What's the matter Mark, did you try telling him a joke?"
Mark grinned and pulled a thermos flask out from beneath his seat. He poured a cup out for both of us, and I gripped on to the mug of hot chocolate trying to get some warmth into my fingers. I wasn't in the mood for chatting, staying awake was hard enough - but Mark of course had other ideas.
"So, right... I've been thinking."
No answer from me. I huddled up into the collar of my goretex jacket, praying for silence or oblivion.
"The thing is, right - have you ever seen an ugly Asian woman?"
Pause. My brain went into overdrive as I tried to work out where this conversation was heading. And failed of course. "Mark, what the Hell are you talking about?"
"I just mean. They're better looking than white women."
"Mark, what exactly do you mean by 'Asian Women?' I mean, which country or countries are you even talking about? Asia isn't one place. And besides..." I tailed off as I realised I had made the fatal error of trying to inject sense into a conversation with Mark.
He sighed. "I suppose you're right. Maybe I'll leave it then."
Thirty seconds of silence.
"Do you think cats are ambidextrous?" No answer from me. Mar tried again.
"More hot chocolate? I found it in the canteen, when I came back from rest days, but it heated up alright when I reboiled it." Cue sounds of a desperate uniformed copper trying to spit out any remnants of the warm liquid back into the cup.
"Mark, if you ever find a woman stupid enough to want to spend time with you, she'd better have appalling standards of personal hygiene or else the relationship is going nowhere."
A satisfied smile from Mark. "I heard woman can burp seven decibels louder than men. Do you reckon it's because they've got more body fat?"
There's no way to deal with this. "Mark. Shut. Up. Now. Or I will kill you."
"Only I've been thinking of going to Canada. I want to practise my French. Are there Italian Canadians as well?"
"Mark. Please. I'm begging you. Really. I will get out of the Ambulance and promise never to be a bad man again if you will please shut up."
"Nah. Tell you what though, there's a girl at the Royal London, I reckon she likes me. Not sure whether I should go out with her though. Not my type."
"Mark, you'd get up on a scabby cat going out of a skylight. Please, stop talking."
"True enough. Do you reckon Trumpton ever play rodeo type games with their hoses in their down periods? Those hoses pack a punch, I reckon if you tried to sit on one on a crash mat it'd be just like one of them electronic bucking rodeos, like."

And so on, and so on, until dawn.

Merry Christmas

2008-12-25T14:24:00.005Z

Merry Christmas to anyone silly enough to be on the net today. I don't count, I'm a shift worker.
Seriously though, thanks to everyone that has visited, read my blog, commented or emailed. Lets hope none of you lovely people ever has to need the assistance of me or my colleagues.

I'm currently sitting at home alone, not long out of bed and enjoying some peace and quiet before I head out to face the chaos. In the meantime, a little yuletide story:

Yesterday, whilst driving back from dropping some case papers off I found myself behind a car which was being driven by a young woman. I was trundling along behind her, not really watching her and idly looking over the other cars passing past in the opposite lanes.
As we approached a pedestrian crossing, the lights went to amber, then changed to red. The woman in the car in front accelerated through them, making the waiting pedestrians look open mouthed.

Frankly, doing with a marked Police Car behind you is just taking the mick.

I hit the blues and pulled her over, into a shopping centre car park.
I told her why I'd stopped her. She started to deny it then thought better of it - she was just short of being bolshy, and obviously frightfully annoyed at the Police having the nerve to waste her time.
After checking her licence and insurance details on my Mobile Data Terminal in the car, I walked back to her.
"Here's your driving licence back - going through red lights is an endorsable offence, so you are eligible for points on your licence plus a fine. However, on this occasion I am going to let you go with a verbal warning, seeing as it's Christmas Eve."
The woman's outraged response - "I'm not a Christian. Why should Christmas make any difference?"

*deep breath*

"So, let me get this straight... you weren't getting a ticket, but think that you deserve one because you're not Christian?"
No answer.
"Good bye, drive carefully."

Express Yourself

2008-12-17T17:32:00.000Z

Like many coppers, I often claim to be unshockable.
And then I am without fail proved wrong.

One of the things that was slightly disconcerting to me when I first started doing Gaoler duty was some of the cell dweller's activities once safely hidden away in their rooms.

Spitting, fighting, self harming, vandalism, peeing or defecating in unusual places - all expected and easily coped with.

However, some of our 'clients' partake in slightly different methods for passing the time.

A significant number of young adult males feel that whilst lying in the (CCTV viewed) cell awaiting questioning is a good time to indulge in some "self expression."

I think it's safe to say that whatever fantasies people may or may not have about Police Officers, seeing the reality of the urine stained, dirty, smelly, vomit ridden cells is not something that would turn most people on.

Of course, rattling the wicket on the door and reminding them that their cell is covered by CCTV as they approach the crucial moment is only fair.
Bizarrely, this only stops some of them.

As I said, I'm still shockable.

The Bear Returns

2008-12-07T17:45:00.006Z

Yet another shift with too many calls, yet another parade room with too few officers, yet another station yard with not enough Police Cars to get out and start assigning callsigns to calls.

Yet another evening in the company of Ruffles. You may have to read that link for this to make any sense.

Once again I have spent a shift driving our Sergeant around. I think it is supposed to be a compliment (and of course he keeps asking questions that I will be forced to regurgitate in March).
Apparently it is 'Good Experience.'

Blackstones never mentioned keeping a temperamental teddy bear happy though.

Once again, Ruffles was strapped into our super powered diesel car in the back seat and stayed safely there, unless excitement happened.
Once again we went to a fire, and once again Ruffles was placed on the dashboard.
Apparently not only does he like fire, he also "loves seeing firemen in their uniform."

Ruffles at scene at an incident. His identity has been protected

My Sergeant has been working on response for most of his twenty two year career. People talk about the risks of Policing, and the effects of shift work...

After my first post about Ruffles, a few people suggested some ideas for dealing with him. What I am worried about is the effect it could have on my Sergeant's morale. Seeing him proudly sitting Ruffles by the computer in the parade room is somehow heart warming.

Ruffles also has an inappropriate sense of humour. At one point we went to a very nasty scene. Blood everywhere, withshocked officers standing in silence, ashen faced and monosyllabic when asked questions.
You know things are bad when the usual cynical comments are not forthcoming from either the coppers or ambo at the scene.

After we had left, Ruffles proceeded to tell a very long and tenuous inappropriate joke.
At least, I think he did.
My Sergeant 'translated' for him.

Help?

The Guinea Pigs Have Taken Over The Bank

2008-12-02T13:10:00.003Z

Of course, as mature as I may pretend to be I am not totally averse to having fun at work sometimes.

One of my more elaborate plots involved someone who had annoyed me considerably - and no, he was not a Senior Officer. Call him Paul.

We had had a little bout of small practical jokes on each other, ending with him doing the traditional "fingerprint ink on the hat band" routine on me.

All very funny.

In retaliation, I started to collect at any opportunity the paper discs, discarded from hole punches - the actual 'holes' you punch out of the paper.

Once I had the correct amount (one 'C' size evidence bag for those interested) I waited in lair for my adversary.
Unfortunately I had to wait a while, as we work in different departments. However, whilst chatting to the garage hand in the yard of the nick one day, who should I see drive up but my sworn enemy.

Paul parked his response vehicle, and wondered in the direction of the canteen.

I approached the car, and with care, tipped the small paper hole punch discs (do they have a name?) into the heating vents of the car.
I then positioned the vents to face towards him, and put all of the fans on to maximum so that when he put the key in the ignition and started the engine they would burst into life.
Oh yes.

I sat myself down with some paperwork, with a view of his car. I was prepared to wait. Then the radio crackled into life: "Any unit available to run the Borough Commander from Bravo X-ray to the council offices at about half eleven, over?"
A pause. Not a popular job.
"Bravo X-ray from Bravo Zulu Two One, I'll run him over when I've finished refs."
"Two-One, that's much appreciated. Bravo X-ray out."
I recognised Paul's voice immediately.

The temptation to let the mini explosion happen to Paul AND the Borough Commander was huge, but I didn't like to think of Paul having to explain the situation to any Senior Officer.

I trotted up to the canteen - "Paul, can I borrow your keys? Just need to move your car."
Back down to the yard. The garage hand came out of his office grinning. "You'll be wanting this then?" He handed me the vacuum cleaner.

The only way to get rid of the eyelets was to flush them out, so I started the car, and experienced the softest explosion known to man kind. It was a little like being in a warm snow storm, as the paper discs fluttered around me.
For a minute, all was peace.
Then I set to work with the vacuum cleaner.
It took me my whole bloody refs break.

You'll be relieved to know I have a plan B though. Glitter. He'll never get that off...

Oink Oink

2008-11-25T22:13:00.000Z

Sorry for the lack of posts, I have managed to get single figures worth of sleep in about ten days, so things have been a bit blurred for me.

Regarding this post, it appears that on reading the news maybe my senior officer was not being pig headed.
Maybe he was being prescient AND pig headed.

Personally if I'm ever in the position where a Nurse calls me love or dearie then I'll smile and make the most of it - they're usually so stretched and overworked that the sight of another weary uniformed copper turning up (and usually trying to cadge some gloves or tea) illicits nothing more than a barely supressed sigh.

I also got called in for a bollocking the other day, which was not so nice. Interestingly though, the Supernintendo had to tell me that at the same time as bollocking me, I was also getting a QSR (Quality of Service Report) placed on my personel file, signed by him. For the exact same incident...

He realised the ridiculousness of it as well, but had to play his part.

In recognition of this, as I took the QSR and shook his hand, I kept a serious frown on my face.

As Inspector Gadget is fond of saying, you couldn't make it up.

Also, I have received recently a slightly strange text from PC Pinkstone. I think that alcohol may have been involved in the creation of it. Please to suggest any completely unrelated and off the wall ideas for texts I can send in return.

Steve's Room

2008-11-13T23:59:00.008Z

Our Division, like all in the Met, used to have a custody area with cells in every nick.

Now, like most Boroughs, we have one full time custody area, one that is used for very occasional operations/building work/overflow for other Boroughs/Safeguard Operations, and then a couple that are locked up and the cells used for nothing more than storing old bicycles, confidential waste, pigeon nests and shady cigarette breaks.

"Steve" knew this.

Steve had spent some of his youth fighting, and had been in the cells back in the day. He liked to tell us he'd been in the cells in every nick in the local Borough, at some point in his past.
He'd then joined the army and 'made good.' Unfortunately, on demob things went wrong for Steve, and although he never went his old path of fighting in the street, Steve became a sad, sad sight. Bedraggled, homeless, and often drunk - he's been on the streets longer than some coppers have been alive.

In fact, some coppers have joined the job, worked their thirty, and retired, and Steve has still been there. I've no doubt that a few coppers on their retirement bunged him a few quid.

No trouble, and no convictions since before joining the army. A perfect Gent, albeit a smelly drunken one.

As I said, Steve knew about our spare custody.
Station Officers throughout the years have been woken up on a winter's night, from an 0100 hours day dream to find the spectacle of Steve in the front office, usually clutching a gift of some sort. Yesterday's paper was a favourite.
Experienced officers knew him, knew to simply open the door and usher him into the spare custody area, where he'd crawl up in a ball after thanking the officer profusely, and settle down to a long and well deserved sleep in the warm.

The early turn officer would be briefed and would shake him awake with a cuppa soup, and offer him a shower. Steve would repay the kindness by cleaning up anything he could, and cleaning the tea club mugs.
An impressive and well received gesture, especially well received by the probationer currently running the tea club.

As far as I can tell, Steve never mentioned his hidey hole to his fellow homeless people, most of whom he seemed to treat with a dismissive attitude. For him, they were there because they'd failed. He'd made a lifestyle choice.

Of course, as CCTV throughout the cells became more prevalant, eventually even the spare custody area got some. As did the station office area. Steve got older, and suddenly the idea of taking an alcoholic elderly man into the cell area unsupervised on a semi regular basis became unattractive.

The relief Inspectors made the difficult decision, and two or three years ago Steve was thenceforth barred from the nick.

I am glad to this day I was not the station officer on duty who had to tell him; I think it would have been heartbreaking to see his hopeful face clutching an out of date newspaper, changing to confusion as the news sunk in.

This time last year, Steve was found lying in a doorway by the Ambulance Service, on a bitter November night. The ambos were on the way back from a job, and recognised the huddled shape so stopped to say 'Hello.'
Of course, as I'm sure you've guessed, on their approach they realised that there was no point in saying hello.

Later, I turned up to say Goodbye, as did most of the patrols on duty. For many of us, Steve was the first experience we'd had as probationers of the local drunks, always willing, and regularly used as an experience of searching people you may not want to search.

Steve outlived a homeless person's life expectancy, and no one would have betted on him getting a telegram from the Queen, but that didn't stop a few of us on our relief (and I'm guessing in all the other teams) sitting round and wondering if he'd have been alive if he hadn't been barred from our nick.

Who exactly was helped by our Risk Averse policy?

The Least We Can Do

2008-11-09T19:13:00.005Z

Rememberance Day

2008-11-04T18:37:00.005Z

I was going to post this the day before Rememberance Sunday, however events have forced my hand a little.

Just over a year ago I was on patrol in a relatively low crime area in my divison - low crime in comparison to the rest of the borough anyway. Those living in the Ivory Towers would still be shocked by the sheer brazenness of the criminality that goes on in the area.

Whilst driving around late at night, I turned the lights out as I went down a side street which bordered a local park. The park was part of a church; although there had been no reported crimes there (so hence completely unworthy of our attention), I had talked to the Priest and discovered he was getting more and more trouble from drinkers and drug takers hanging around there.

He had also been suffering minor criminal damage to the church, and had drinks thrown at him when he had asked them to leave. Of course, none of this had been reported. When I asked why, he shrugged and held out his hands: "My daughter is in the Police and my son in the Army - I know how short you are, I wouldn't like the idea that I would be taking Police Officers away from tackling REAL crimes and more deserving victims."

This is the kind of attitude often displayed by those who both need and deserve our help most, and it is tragic that whilst the Priest (and many elderly people especially) suffer in silence so as not to bother us, the local oiks get yet another Police car, yet another CID officer, yet another pointless arrest, yet another intervention from outside agencies... for a threats by text from an ex. Again.

Anyway. Deep breath. Back to the story.

On this occasion, as I went lights out on the car, I saw the sillouhettes of two figures, crawling over the side gate that led into the churchyard park.

I was still some distance away, so coasted down towards them, slowing down and coming to a stop using my handbrake in order to keep the brake lights off.
As I stepped out of the car, they were well inside the park, so my operator trotted around to the main gate to prevent their escape.

Which left me with the mission of climnbing over the gate, wearing twelve pounds of body armour and a utility belt - whilst also trying to remain silent.
It's as surprising to me as to you that I managed it relatively well.

I spotted the two figures straight away, hunched over a wall. They were so busy talking that they didn't even notice me until I had a hand gripped into their hoods on their tops, and had started to twist hard to keep hold.

What I had seen had convinced me that they would not be leaving the park without a new pair of shiny bracelets.

In the darkeness, lit by distant street lights, the moon and a Nokia mobile phone, it was immediately clear what they had been doing. Crouched in front of a war memorial, a can of spray paint at their feet - and a giant swastika still dripping wet over the headstone.

I've arrested a huge amount of nasty people, but rarely has the temptation been so great to show them the error of their ways myself. I managed to resist though, and instead opted for icy calm.
One of them tried to pull away, and his look of sullen insolence changed to something like panic as I held on - I think he realised he was going nowhere.

I was joined by my partner, who quickly realised the situation and assisted by taking one of the two fifteen year olds.

I then made a quick decision - the paint was still wet, and if wiped at now might well be removeable. However, that would remove all evidence of the offence, and there was no way these two were not being arrested.

After a quick conflab with my oppo, the two suspects were cuffed hand to hand, round a tree so they couldn't leave. A quick dash to the car, and luckily there was a camera in the boot. After a very quick bout of photography, I explained to the lads what happened next: "Right, just so we're clear here. You ARE getting arrested. Right now I am going to attempt to clean this paint off. I've got absolutely no power to make you clean it, but if you do it will go in my notes and be read WHEN you go to court. If not, I will describe exactly how you refused to help and instead watched as we cleaned it."

Funnly enough, both offered to help.
One asked about cleaning cloths; by this point my oppo had found a bucket of water from somewhere in the church yard. I looked at the youths in their Kappa hoodies. "It's a warm night, isn't it boys...?"

Later, in custody, a senior officer questioned my decision to arrest two juveniles for minor criminal damage that they had attempted to clean up. I was about to blow a fuse, when my oppo tactfully asked the Supernintendo if he knew the circumstances; once explained, to be fair the Super was on our side.
"These two are getting charged. Understand? They ARE getting charged."

Coppers don't look lightly on situations like this.
You'll be pleased to know, neither did the Judiciary.

The church has now paid a huge amount (destined for the upkeep there) to help secure the graveyard. The Priest still doesn't report incidents when he kicks people out, but most importantly the families of the men named in the memorial never found out about the damage caused.

This post was posted earlier than expected, due to THIS news story.
I wasn't aware of it, until someone emailed me to tell me about it - no idea if he wants to have his name plastered about, so I'll just say thanks to TF for it.

I can only hope that when the buggers are caught for it, the same attitude displayed by the Police, CPS and Judicary in my case is shown in theirs as well.

To the copper/s that hopefully arrest these lowlifes, a genuine offer from me - a bottle of bubbly if I ever find out who you are.

Need a Drink

2008-10-30T17:27:00.006Z

Many officers, on blogs, in books, and even face to face admit to being affected by their job in many different ways.
The side that is usually only touched upon as briefly as possible is the emotional side.

Although, as with all emergency services, we 'toughen up' and the vast majority of things become day to day, there will always be things that effect us.

Sometimes these are things that you wouldn't expect to have that effect; something or someone you've dealt with many times before. These take you aback as much as they upset you. I think personally that part of that is because as coppers we have to accept that there is a chink in our armour, that sometimes, something does get through.

Not too often luckily, else we'd never be ready to go to the next call.

One of the things guaranteed to be difficult for blue light responders is dealing with children; especially sexual abuse cases, or anything at all to do with babies.

In the incidents I've been in which have involved young children, every officer has done the job proud. Training kicks in obviously, as does experience. But humanity is the most important trait at times like that and it is one of the times it is important to use it rather than keep it out of the equation.

Seeing the parents is always the bit that gets me; I've never teared up yet at work, but I've definitely felt washed out completely afterwards.
At one incident, I was sent halfway through a night duty to what was described as a "six month old baby not breathing, LAS on route."

Not a nice thing to happen, and not a nice thing to hear over the airwaves.

I arrived on scene to be greated by a hysterical couple, clutching a baby that was turning purple as I watched.
Suffice to say that whatever you think you know about CPR, doing it on a baby of that age takes a lot more concentration than on an adult.

Once again, thank you thank you thank you to the LAS for arriving promptly, and actually taking over.

The baby girl was pronounced dead after nearly an hour of an entire resus department at A&E working on her, and I stupidly volunteered to tell the parents - they knew anyway, but it needed to be said.
They reacted as any loving parents would.

I walked away to give them a few minutes, and to get some air myself. To be honest, this is when I started feeling it, and frankly what I wanted was a bed and a few shots of whisky - not necessarily in that order.

What I actually had to do though, was pick up the baby and take her to an observation room, tear the parents away for a while and then inspect the body for signs of abuse.
Praying all the time that I wouldn't find any, and luckily my prayers were answered on this occasion.
During all of this, recording my actions in an IRB (Incident Report Book), and then taking details from the parents, getting an initial account of what happened from both, whilst trying to console them.

I'd about reached breaking point myself, but everytime the I felt like taking a break I looked at the parents and reminded myself that they couldn't "take five."
A subtle knock on the door interrupted the quiet sobbing, and a nurse poked her head around the door. "Sorry to intrude, but your son, Jason, he's just turned up"
Cue panicked looks from the parents. The Mum spoke; "He's only fifteen - how am I going to tell him?"
After a long and uncomfortable silence, I sighed soundlessly to myself. There wasn't much else I could say: "Do you want me to tell him? I don't mind."
Not pleasant.

In the wonderful way of the job of course, after I had handed the parents over to the specialists after a couple of hours, it was back to the nick for a statement and then back on the streets again.
To be fair, if I'd asked I probably would have been allowed home. But what would be the point? I wouldn't be sleeping anyway, so being out on patrol made more sense than sitting by myself in a darkened flat trying to keep quiet.

I don't mind admitting that the nightmares took a little while to stop afterwards though. Seeing a father cradle his baby daughter in his arms for the last time is not something that is easily imagined, and even harder to forget.

Stuff

2008-10-29T12:24:00.004Z

Whilst walking around Leicester Square last night, watching the crowds doing their thing at the James Bond Premiere, a thought struck me.

Why?

Why the hell would fully grown men and women queue up for literally hours and hours for the chance to see a glimpse of the back of a minor Royal or an actor from a film?

I mean, it's not even as though they get to see the bloody film.

All they get to see is a group of yellow clad PCs getting progressively more bored, cold and grumpy, stood on a fixed point in hi-viz hell waiting for a question that doesn't start "Can you tell me where I can find..."

There has to be a sane reason why so many people do it, please can someone tell me it?

By the way, I have been trawling the blogosphere, and have discovered (or re-discovered) Police and Law Enforcement blogs in abundance. I am slowly updating my linky sidebar. Any that you know of, please let me know.
I have also noticed that although I have found many for the UK, US and Canada, I've found none for either Australia or for the Guards in Eire. Does anyone know of any?

Trick Or Treat

2008-10-22T20:16:00.001+01:00

With Halloween fast approaching, we are girding our loins in preparation for an evening of fun, fun, fun.

ALthough the vast majority of youths out there are law abiding citizens, there are a significant minority that love Halloween for all the wrong reasons.

Mainly that over the week leading up to it, our young robbers, car thieves, burglars and other unsavoury characters can wear any type of mask or disguise with complete impunity, and chances are not even get a second glance from the overworked response team officers.

Incidentally, am I the only one that views trick or treat as borderline robbery anyway? I admit I am naturally a grumpy bugger, but offering a threat of violence in order to take someone else's property just seems too borderline for me...

Anyway, it has got me to thinking about tricks played on colleagues; often the younger service members of the team.

We've all heard of most of the tricks done, and we also know that a huge amount are handed down from copper to copper without actually being done very often.

The only one I've ever seen done more than once is the asp throwing competition. Namely, in the wee small hours of a night duty as it quietens down, the team meat in a large local park, tucked away in the dark and nice and private.
We all line up at a spot and explain that, for a laugh, we're going to have an asp throwing competition - loser buys breakfast for the others next early turn.

The probationer steps proudly up to the mark, and of course when the command is given, throws with all his might along with the others.
The more suspicious probationary officers may hesitate, suspecting foul play, but they will see the asps being thrown with force and the other coppers letting go, so join in with gay abandon.

Of course, what they don't see is the other PCs holding on to the lanyard attached to the asp, so that when they let go of said asp it flies for a very, very short distance before bouncing back into their hands.

Leaving said probationer to crawl around in the dark looking for his lost asp, with the help of his or her tiny maglite.

Disgraceful. I've obviously never seen it happen for real.

Apparently, if the probationer needs to be taken down a peg, whilst he or she is searching for the offending item, a Sergeant (who has known about this since the start) drives up and asks the PC what they are looking for.
Then asks them to explain how they lost it...

Many call this the "honesty test."

Any others anyone else cares to mention?
Please try and avoid the hackneyed "Bi-annual water sample from the Thames" trick, or the "hiding in the morgue/morgue version II/morgue version III"

Things That Have Annoyed Me Recently (part 3)

2008-10-13T15:29:00.001+01:00

Recently, in Custody.
I had arrested a woman in her late forties who had been rather silly - she was not known to Police before and basically had been caught doing something that she knew was wrong in a moment of stupidity.

We all deal with this kind of person occasionally, someone who has thus far led relatively blameless lives and suddenly they come to the attention of Police.

No, before you ask, this was not a figures arrest. In fact, there was no detection involved in this one...

We had brought her in, and the woman was obviously terrified. Unlike our usual, regular customers she felt shame at being arrested and obviously didn't want to be with us.
She also told the Custody Sergeant she suffered from claustrophobia.

Now, as any copper will no doubt attest, a huge amount of the clientelle we get in our cells will claim they have claustrophobia, or any other condition they can think of to get released, bailed, or just to wind up the coppers.

This woman was obviously not playing the system, so after a brief chat with the Custody Sergeant (and an even briefer trip to the cell door, discovering she quietly having palpatations) we brought her out of the cell and sat her on one of the metal seats opposite the Sergeant's desk, where the Skippers could keep an eye on her.

I was writing my arrest notes when our borough commander walked in, on one of his rare trips to see the troops in custody. As he went up to annoy the custody sergeants, I thought it prudent to make myself busy so decided to get the kettle on and brew up for the Sergeants.

For those of you not in the job, Custody Sergeants run on tea. Without tea on a fifteen minute cycle they will not, and in fact can not function.
FACT.

I made a list of who was drinking what, and as I went past the huddled, shivering nervous woman I had arrested, I took pity and said "Tea love?"
She shook her head, and I contined on to the kitchen area.
Follwed by the Borough Commander.

Great.

Expecting a chat about the borough's "basket of ten," or possibly a bollocking for taking the prisoner out of the cell, I was surprised at the topic of conversation he chose.

A ten minute lecture on the inappropriateness of calling a female prisoner "love."
A promise that this would be mentioned to my team inspector.
And a threat that if said prisoner made a complaint against me, the borough commander would have no choice but to give evidence on her behalf due to the blatant and flagrantly open way I had chosen to use this "wholly inappropriate term in a public, CCTV recorded arena."

He then disappeared off - one of the Custody Sergeants told me later that as I was boiling the kettle (and boiling up inside) our wonderful leader went up to said suspect and offered her his apologies.

As I came back with the teas, the boss was gone from the custody area. I sat down next to the woman, and gave her a tea - yes, she had said no, but she needed a little kindness.
"You OK love?"
She smiled wanly as she took the cup.
"I'm OK, thanks for this. But who was the idiot in the hat who came in?"

'Nuff said.

Op Blunt

2008-10-06T15:06:00.017+01:00

Recently (after successfully avoiding it for a while) I have been doing a few shifts on Operation Blunt.

For those of you lucky enough not to be au fait with the practicalities of the operation for street PCs, here is a short summary.

On regular days response team officers (and occasional others) are warned for "Op Blunt." We will be taken off our already short teams, and given a parade time with operational orders. We will parade at our nick on that day at the given time, and have a short briefing.

Then the fun begins. We will then drive to a central parade point, and from then to whichever borough we have been assigned to patrol for Operation Blunt. Often we will pass officers from different boroughs heading towards our borough to patrol it.
We like to wave at them.

If this car I've stopped has people with knives, where is my back up? On the other side of London of course.

We then get a further briefing at the central parade point, and then all embuss and head over to the Division we are assigned to, and patrol there to proactively deter knife crime. We are encouraged to stop search, but we are not allowed to take the vast majority of calls that come out.
Not that we could, as we wouldn't know the way anyway.

If we get prisoners, we have the joy of booking them in and dealing with them in a strange nick.

Because of all the parade and briefing/travelling time/operational feeding/parade and briefing/getting lost on way to ground assigned/de-briefing at area/travelling time back to borough, we obviously spent a relatively small amount of time actually on patrol.

After doing our short hours on patrol, we then make our way across London back to our home borough, not forgetting to wave at the non-local officers leaving our borough. Then home for tea and cakes.

Of course, if we had been allowed to put these numbers on to OUR borough on response teams, we would have been able to have enough coppers to both respond to calls AND to proactively patrol. Most coppers regularly try to prevent knife crime given the time. We might even be able to use a little of our local knowledge to actually target our patrols, and get to places without arguing over the A-Z.

I didn't need an A-Z for this call. What I needed was a large amount of non-existent officers to help with the mad person waving a twelve inch kitchen knife around.

Anyway. Something I heard over the radio on Operation Blunt made me giggle manically for an inappropriate amount of time.

Control: "Units to assist on an I Grade please, robbery at Brixley bus garage in the past two minutes .on a number 37 bus."
Unit: "Bravo X-ray, show Bravo X-ray Two Zero One. Have you got a description?"
(Pause for comedy effect...)
Control: "Bravo X-ray Two Zero One, it's red with four wheels."

I can't help but find it reassuring that even in The Kremlin there are still long forgotten slightly eccentric people manning the microphones.
Long may their reign remain undiscovered by the people in the Ivory Towers.

New Policeman

2008-10-06T13:07:00.001+01:00

Short Post to say, please go and check THIS SITE.

It belongs to a copper just starting off in Canada, the land of Opportunity and David Copperfield.

It is his first day as a street monkey today, so please please pop over and say "hello" and "good luck." Whether you become a fan of his blog or not, a quick comment to wish him well (and tell him where you came from!) would be great. The uniform and badge may differ, but the job remains the same.

I'm sure that any copper remembering their first day would appreciate the sentiments. Nervous probably doesn't even cover it...

Comments are locked for this post only; any comments please pass to him.

Thanks

t'net

2008-10-03T13:11:00.003+01:00

A quick post, just to say that I am temporarily without internets.

According to BT I will be up and running next week, and they never lie. I'm actually doing this post on my phone, through the wonders of machines with 'i' in the title, as PC Pinkstone says.
This is down to my endless quest to be a cheapskate and the continuing search for the best way to save pennies.

Can you blame me? We're in a credit crunch, our Home Secretary won't give us a pay rise, and my boss has just suspended half of my senior management then resigned himself.
Fun times ahead...

I will continue my short series of things that have annoyed me when I get the net back - rest assured there is only one more to go; there are still things that make me laugh as well in this job.

Things That Have Annoyed Me Recently (Part 2)

2008-09-24T13:21:00.001+01:00

After a few days off, I came back to work to discover a multitude of emails, the vast majority of which did not concern me.

I particularly liked two, which had been sent by different people to "All Response Team Officers."

The first one read something along the lines of:

"Would all response team officers remember to park their cars "arse end" in to the walls, so that if an urgent call comes out, or an officer requesting assistance, officers are actually available to get there.
Critical time has been lost trying to negotiate getting the response vehicles out of the yard, and having an officer injured because of it is obviously unacceptable and has the potential for discipline issues."

Fair point. Next email:

"All response officers please note. Response cars MUST be parked face in to the walls at all times when parked in the yard - this not only reduces noise to people working in the Police Station, but also prevents the completely unnecessary problem of the exhaust fumes being blown in through windows when officers rev their engines.
This IS being monitored and disciplinary action will be considered against drivers who do not comply."

Laugh? I nearly started.

Please vote on which email I should obey - one officer on my relief has tried parking sideways against the wall, but he was in a long wheelbase public order carrier, which took up five spaces.

Things That Have Annoyed Me Recently (Part 1)

2008-09-18T14:02:00.005+01:00

As per the title. Yesterday I was driving around during the day, dealing with the usual calls and rubbish and dreaming of international rockstardom.

It was a lovely day, sunny with a hint of early Autumn cool - perfect weather for foot patrol. By some miracle the I-Immediate calls had tailed off for a while, and by an even greater miracle, our control room had given me a brief respite from sending crappy "non" calls to my MDT (Mobile Data Terminl - on board computer).

I parked the car up in one of the town centres we cover, and decided it was too good an opportunity to miss. "Come on mate, grab your hat" I said to my oppo, and withstanding his bemused looks followed by an almost sullen acceptance, climbed out of the car for a bit of foot patrol.

It was wonderful; no MDT bleeping at me, no rattle of a knackered diesel engine fighting against the constrains of gravity, no mainset blatting away with circulations in the background. The sun was out and I had my hat on, and everything was, for just this moment, OK with the world. I walked through one of our markets and chatted to a couple of stall holders, had a photo taken with a very lost tourist, let a couple of children try on my hat. Basically, for a short time I felt like a proper Policeman again.

Then the radio crackled - "999BX from BX, receiving?"
Area: "Go ahead."
BX: "I've sent a call down to your MDT a couple of times, and you're not accepting it. It's an S call from CID to pick up some CCTV. Why aren't you accepting it?"
Area: "I'm not in the car BX."
BX: "Received... why not? Do you want me to create a CAD?"
Area: "Negative, I'm just doing some foot patrol."
BX: "Er... received. We had you posted to a car."
*Sigh*
Area: "Yes, that's correct, I'm in a car - I've just popped out to do some foot patrol."
BX: "999 from BX, that's received, you need to stay by your car so we can send you calls over."
Area: "..."

A pause, as I walked back to the car to accept the call. The Radio crackled again. "999 from BX1"
Area: "Go ahead Sir"
Inspector: "Come and see me when you get a minute please."

Long story short, I was later given a rollocking by the Duty Officer for not being with the car and going out on foot patrol. Surely that is what the radio is for?
I'm fully aware that my job is to respond to calls for assistance, but surely proactive patrolling is part of it as well? And getting out on foot and meeting the public is as nice for me as it is for the public sometimes.

Ho hum. Thanks Guvnor. That'll teach the probationer with me never to do anything as stupid as to get out of the car and actually talk to people he meets again.

He's NOT Judge Judy

2008-09-13T18:45:00.003+01:00

A quick post, on the Judciary. This has been inspired by a post on a blog I have recently discovered, and more specifically the comments within.

I have no fear of arguing with Magistrates or any part of the legal system whilst blogging - but I do think that most magistrates still do care.

The problem is the system is not designed for caring.
The CPS often are the reason that Magistrates end up making bad decisions (just as members of public for coppers). In both cases we depend on them and a score of other people to feed us the correct information. Often that doesn't happen.

All too often CPS do not offer the case to court at all. All too often when they do, it is either as a lower charge than it should be, or just badly prosecuted. CPS prosecutors are often inexperienced and in fact some are not qualified as lawyers - in a way they represent the worst of both worlds, and I do have some sympathy with them (sometimes).
Their job is to represent victims and the police despite having no real world experience of either on a meaningful basis, no street experience. They are also supposed to be a link to the legal process and judiciary, despite often being unqualified and regularly inexperienced in that field.

Not exactly a win-win situation is it?

On top of that, they get judged on PERCENTAGE of cases won, rather than amount of cases won. So often, they simply won't fight them.

One of the many knock on effects of this (apart from offenders getting clean away, victims and witnesses feeling let down and Police Officers losing their rag) is that the Judiciary don't see the "characters" that have been arrested with the regularity that they should.

Often I hear complaints that they are out of touch - and yes, some are. Most have come from different backgrounds to the average suspect and victim that I deal with, and this can be an issue. But the way for them to even have a chance of staying "in touch" is by being presented with the suspects, the crimes, and the victims and witnesses on a regular basis, seeing the little buggers in front of them again and again, and being able to take direct action against the people they personally see as repeat offenders.

CPS do their best to make sure this does not happen - as do Penalty Notices for Disorder and Cautions.

This is before we even get to the minefield of sentencing guidelines...

Yes, some Judges are beyond out of touch. Yes, some create bizarre decisions that the vast majority of people struggle to comprehend. Our legal system is not perfect; most Police bloggers show that our part alone needs a lot of help.
But I think that sometimes, it's too easy to blame the person sitting on the top of the tree rather than the person who grew it in the first place.

Fight! Fight! Fight!

2008-09-08T17:32:00.005+01:00

Three or four years ago, I was visiting family on Boxing day, in a semi-rural location, south of Metro City.

I had volunteered to be a designated driver for the evening (after having my fill of alcohol on Christmas Day) and had been out for a couple of cokes watching my friends and family get slowly merrier and merrier in the local town.

As we left, I noticed the poor single crewed bobby sitting in his patrol car watching people drifting out of the local pubs. We piled in my car and I put the heaters on full in order to clear the screen of the ice mist which had appeared in the December smog whilst we had been tucked up in the warm.

I had a car full of female family members, and they were giggling and talking loudly to each other as I stared blankly at the windscreen, and the picture outside that became visible. Although all had seemed peaceful on leaving the pub, as the ice vanished from the screen, I saw a scuffle break out outside two of the pubs.
I couldn't hear anything over the unaware but happy giggles in my car, but no doubt the scuffle was accompanied by the usual screams of "faackin ell" and "leave it Dave, it's not worth it."
Mating calls of the underclasses?

Anyway, the scuffle became more fight like. As I watched, the lone PC climbed out of his car and made his way wearily towards the two idiots on the ground - at the same instant as a group piled out of the pub and ran towards.

Suddenly oblivious to the happy place in my motor, I saw as the PC realised he was sandwiched in the middle of two groups of drunken violent individuals.
Without thinking, I put the car into gear and drove towards the PC as he shouted into his radio and drew his asp and CS - one for each group, futile as it as.
I jumped out of the car and ran towards the PC, ID in hand. He saw me and just shouted "Yes, please mate."

What followed was a kind of chaos as the PC and me tried to keep the innocent bystanders safe whilst also getting back to the relative safety of his car. I knew the reality of policing - that even in metrocity, on nights we are short. On bank holiday nights we are even shorter. On Boxing day night duty... in the semi-rural backlands... I'm not stupid, and it didn't take me long to calculate that help would not be immediate. I worked outside the Met in rural areas before moving to London, and I had an idea of the panic the PC would be trying to quell.

I honestly can't remember how many people I came into contact with in those minutes whilst waiting for the sound of two tones. By the time the first Police cars turned up (three of them in convoy) I was on the floor rolling around with a drunken lad who was bigger than me and doing a better job of absorbing the knocks of the fight. I'd also lost sight of the uniformed bobby.
The first thing I knew about the units arriving was when I felt myself being pulled up and out of the kerfuffle by two uniformed coppers.

I managed to resist the urge to hug them.

As half of the county turned up I decided to go and check on how my giggling girls were doing. Still giggling, and still not sure what had happened. As I went to leave, the first copper came over to offer his thanks, but it was a hurried thanks as you could see that keeping control was still an issue.

Whenever I think about moving back out of London now, I always think about this kind of situation. In Metrocity we find ourselves (especially in the kind of areas I work) in this kind of position much more regularly than many of our county mounty colleagues. But the important thing is, when we call for help, it usually gets there relatively quickly. Whilst I was rolling around with the idiots and the lone PC, I would have given next to anything to have a Police Car appear on scene, and I could see the relief on his face when I jumped in to help.

It's not EASIER working metrocity - it's very busy, regular officer assaults and a constant barrage of calls and violence ensures this. But boys and girls, trust me, it can be worse.

'Nuff respect to my county mounty colleagues listed on the blog bar to the right.
I'll stick to dealing with my gangs and organised violence and crime for the moment.

Gadget

2008-09-04T21:15:00.006+01:00

A photo of someone on the London Underground wearing one of Inspector Gadget's Ruralshire t-shirts.

The Guvnor has posted a more than enigmatic post on his blog, and it's looking like he's getting grief from his Professional Standards Department.

I hope he's not, and it worries me - I personally think that he is in fact one of the better advertisements for the Police out there, certainly better than publicity such as senior officers fighting each other in the press.

I realise we can't do much, but please pop over and show your support by leaving a comment.
It'd be nice to think there is still a semblance of freedom of speech in this country...

Nurses

2008-08-30T22:47:00.000+01:00

Nurses - the biggest friends of coppers, or their greatest cause of downfall?

Discuss.

Incidentally, despite what the gorgeous, innocent, fresh faced Nurse tells you whilst visiting their hospital, it is important to remember a few salient points.

1 - You are a male in his twenties, talking to a young nurse. What organ do you really think you are using for your thinking?
2 - Despite her relatively short life, she is not nearly as innocent as you think and will have dealt with and done things you haven't. Don't even try and cross her.
3 - She won't be impressed by your stories, so don't even try.
4 - If you mess up with her (and you probably will - see point one again), you may face the prospect of having an entire A&E shift turn against you. This is bad. You then may face the very real prospect of having to go there for medical treatment after an injury on duty. This is very bad.
5 - Despite what they tell you, Ethanol and Dr Pepper is NOT an appropriate substitute for "real" alcoholic drinks. You will get sick, I promise. See point two again.

And don't say I didn't warn you.

Smiley Happy People

2008-08-24T18:19:00.006+01:00

Just a quick post - The past couple of days I've spent mainly on foot, dealing with a large variety of dribbling, drunken, stoned illiterate wrecks whilst trying to keep my sanity.
And no, this time I am not referring to the senior management team.

Dealing with wasted people is par for the course, and can be funny - but after many, many hours of it even the most saintly Police Officer finds his or her patience ebbing away. Days of it and a snarl becomes the appropriate response.
With the people that have gone beyond mildy abusive, into all out fight anyone mode, we have the delicate situation of trying to perform our duties as Constables and keep the peace, whilst also bearing in mind the "try not to nick anyone" missives from the senior management team.
After all, it's family fun for all.

All this whilst sweating in full uniform, long sleeve shirt, protective vest, hat and (of course) the wonderful sweat suit that is the high-viz jacket.
In August.

"Job" readers will probably know what I have been doing at work for the past two days.
Non job readers, please see this post and look up "Not Carnival Related" about halfway down.

Joy of joys - back again tomorrow.

Tired now, so straight to bed. Up at 0400hours to do it all again.

Ambos and Tea Spots

2008-08-20T11:50:00.000+01:00

I was at a regular tea spot haunt the other night, having a quick drink and something greasy and unhealthy to eat. Most night shift workers will know the place - it's where Police Officers (often from different forces and areas), Ambulance Crews, RAC and AA Crews, Truck Drivers, and Cabbies all end up socialising as they wait for their sausage inna bun.

Whilst chatting to a couple of ambo boys, they told me a story that made me laugh out loud, but made my partner, Tom, recoil in horror and look at me funny. In retrospect it's probably both funny and horrific.
So I thought I'd pass it on.

Both of the ambo lads were paramedics, who usually work on the solo fast response cars.
One night shift in the very early hours of the morning, they had parked up by the river next to each other for a chat and a cup of tea, whilst waiting for the calls that never came.

Of course, warm drink, heaters on, both of them fell asleep.

As one of them described it "The next thing I know, a pissed wailing banshee is hammering on my window and screaming at me."
A very drunk female woke them both up, shouting that a man was hanging himself.

In front of them.

Surely enough, that was what had happened. Whilst the ambo crews had slept, a depressed and also very drunk young man had walked up, tied a rope off a post, and lowered himself on to it. The drunk lady had noticed from a distance and ran to the paramedics.

As the crews described it, they literally woke up in time to see the man drop in front of them. Makes waking up to an alarm clock suddenly seem so much more bearable.

Both paramedics obviously leapt out and dealt with it, and the male was taken to hospital, no serious injuries at all.

Now, obviously if the man had succeeded it would have been a tradgedy. But what made me giggle was the panic the ambos must have felt on A)waking up from an illicit sleep, B)having a screaming banshee hammering on their windows, and C)seeing a man with a noose around his neck lower himself in front of their still bleary eyes.

One of the paramedics told me later that as he was cutting the man down and working on him, the whole time he kept imagining waking up in the hazy dawn light with a corpse hanging in front of two fully marked ambulances.
Apparently they haven't had any more illicit snoozes in public places since then...

PCSO Rescue

2008-08-12T19:47:00.007+01:00

An interesting news story, about an obviously very naughty and reprehensible act by some council employees in Oldham.

Luckily there was a PCSO, I assume from Greater Manchester Police, on hand to assist and stop the offenders in their tracks.
Some good publicity for CSOs.

Two things struck me whilst reading the quote "It reportedly carried on for 20 minutes before the PCSO intervened"

1 - Was the PCSO watching for the full twenty minutes? If so, surely s/he must have youtube evidence at least.
2 - Twenty minutes!? Is that physically possible? Wow. Give the man a medal I say...

Ruffles

2008-08-09T11:43:00.005+01:00

More and more, we are starting to worry in our team about our Sergeant.
He has always been on the eccentric side of the camp, and in fact, has happily described himself as "bloody mad" before.

At first, they were minor things. Things that made me chuckle - like when he was put in custody, a prisoner was brought before him, and the good sergeant brought out a coin of foreign denomination with a head on both sides. He then proceeded to tell the prisoner that he was going to decide bail on the flip of the coin, heads no bail, tails you get bail...
He hasn't been posted as Custody Sergeant for a long time.

This, and other striking traits has always endeared him to me. Like many long-serving sergeants, his knowledge of most law is vast and in a critical incident he kicks into action, and obviously knows the vast majority of police procedures back to front. He even nicks people occasionally.
But outside of these kind of incidents, he potters along in a bemused way making jokes that aren't funny and asking questions of officers that have little or no basis in reality.

Recently though (and I appreciate this may give a clue who I actually am), he has taken to going everywhere with a small cuddly toy in tow, the kind of thing you get free with a McDonalds happy meal.

He is inordinately proud of this toy.

He clutches it close whilst talking to senior officers, sits it on the desk whilst supervising crime reports... and chats to it all the while. Even whilst no one is about.
This is fine by me, but some of the other patrol sergeants are starting to get that weary, I've had enough face when sitting opposite a sergeant having an animated conversation with a fluffy toy: "What's that Ruffles? Under the Home Office counting rules this crime report might be better classified as a criminal damage. Hmm, you may be right."

I recently had the pleasure of driving him about on a night duty, and I can testify now that Ruffles (not his real name) was safely buckled into the back of the supervisor's van before I drove anywhere. At one point we went to a fire, and the sergeant got him out to sit on the dashboard.
Apparently Ruffles likes fire.

All this is well and good - the Police has always had a comforting way of welcoming eccentrics into the ranks.
But Ruffles must go.
Our sergeant has started deferring questions to Ruffles. Acting Sergeant Ruffles as we must now call him.
Ruffles has even started countermanding our sergeant's orders.

Last week Ruffles denied an annual leave request I made.

The bear must go.

Level II

2008-08-05T01:07:00.005+01:00

Here is my level II kit, washed and ready for action again.

Look closer... is that an issued t-shirt?

It is Ruralshire issued kit, which, lets face it, is more comfy and practical than the kit from my force, and at least turns up within the decade I order it.

Thanks to the Guvnor for authorising the uniform request.

Mutual aid is a wonderful thing, not least because coppers get to moan to a new audience, play tricks on new victims, and show off their kit/get depressed about other forces kit.

Sometimes it makes you proud.

Driving along the A-road, watching carriers come the other way.
From many forces, travelling from far and wide.

A couple of kent carriers, glorious in their battenburg markings, officers with ties on, speeding past at a decent speed.

Ditto the South Yorkshire van.

Ditto the two carriers from Wales.

Ditto the van from Thames Valley Police.

Then the met... two dirty, twelve year old carriers - one with a van load of coppers asleep in the back, the second with no ties and window lickers.
Ten minutes later, another Met carrier. This one leaning to one side at an alarming angle, as though it was tacking against the wind, making a rattling sound that carried over the busy road and through the car's soundproofing.

God Bless the Met.