Sgt Smellie and ex-Commander Dizaei

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

Police Racism

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.

Beano Down The Trousers

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.

Our Customers

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

Power!

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.

Toilet Humour

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.

What Now?

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.

Express Yourself

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

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?

Trick Or Treat

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)

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.

Ruffles

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.

Management Talk

It's disconcerting when Officers above the rank of Inspector go out and about on the streets. It's strange enough when Inspectors go out.
Of course, when senior officers to go out for one of their annual walk abouts on the street, things are never as they seem.

Just as the Queen is said to believe the world smells of fresh paint, the same kind of thing applies for our senior officers. Whenever they turn up to parade, we have by some miracle scratched together enough officers in the parade room to make it look as though we are acheiving minumum numbers on the streets. Even if that means taking officers off other, already over stretched teams.

They then usually commandeer the area car, and float about taking no calls and dealing with nothing they come across.

Inspectors are stuck in the middle of this - there are more and less proactive Inspectors. We recently had one covering as duty officer, who not only turned up to parade, but booked out a car and actually went out; and took calls! This in itself is unusual, but not unheard of. Our regular Inspector very occasionally takes calles, but on arrival will call a PC down to the scene to do the paperwork/take the crime report/make the arrest/do the accident book.

This substitute Inspector even dealt with the calls though - one day he even brought an arrest in. I've only ever seen an Inspector produce a prisoner to custody once before, so it got the team talking.

In fact, we've had him a few times recently, and ended up being a bit spoilt. Much as we like our current Guvnor, having a boss that goes and gets his hands dirty occasionally is very invigorating for the troops.
I have even seen the odd glimpse of morale on team.


One of our area car drivers is running bets on how long it will take before something comes along to help destroy this.

As the old saying goes "Are the men happy Sergeant?"
"Yes sir"
"Then stop their mail and cancel their leave."

Night Duty

Leap in the car, seats still warm from the day shift's crew.
Blat to call. Nick someone.

Drag arrest into custody, too drunk to deal, start notes - urgent assistance to a pub fight, so turf out again.

Fight in the street.

Back to custody to finish my notes from earlier.

Urgent assistance to another pub, diverted to that.
Foot chase after wanted male, caught and cuffed.

Head back to custody to finish my notes from earlier.

Come across fight direct in the street. Call for more units.
Another arrest in.

Back to custody. My operator is booking in this arrest, so I can get my notes done from earlier.

Stabbing in the streets after a gang fight, Inspector turfs everyone out.

Desperate search for victim, followed by desperate wait for ambulance.

Area search for suspect, no luck.

Head back to custody to finish my notes from (now much) earlier.

Operator has finished booking his arrest in. Too drunk to deal. Inspector sees us - units are tucked up on the crime scene, there are "I" immediate calls outstanding. Back on the street. Now. No refs this shift, sorry lads, you know how it is.

Domestic. Take a statement then back to do a crime report, the other unit attending has the arrest.

Back out - can't do my arrest notes from earlier, as there are now only two units for the whole division covering a busy weekend night shift.

Call for assistance from Traffic officers who have come across a large scale street disturbance, running battles with naughty people.

Head back to custody to finish my arrest notes from earlier. Fourteen hours and twenty two calls after starting my shift, when the rest of the team has left and gone home, I walk into custody and hand over the notes to the custody sergeant, who looks over at me.
"Ah Area - good, if you're still here, your man is fit to be dealt with in just under an hour. You can deal with it..."


I still love this job!

Laughing Policeman

It was a rainy night duty, and PC Rain was doing the wonderful job that we all know and love him for. I was single crewed and had actually managed to get a refs break. I wasn't expecting one, so I had called up another unit that was on their way in to grab me a nice healthy meal.

Whilst waiting I had been browsing through the hundreds of notice boards that are up around our nick. I have no idea where they come from, but surely people must realise they aren't serving their purpose anymore? When every wall and every surface is plastered with these boards, with "Senior Management Updates," "Community Relations News," and "Our Basket Of Ten Priorities" then it all becomes a senseless blur, like slightly more colourful wallpaper.

Hidden amongst this was a useful section which showed our current senior officers on the borough, a large section with blow up photos of each one. I had spent an informative ten minutes or so finding out how many of them I actually knew/recognised/had heard their name before (three out of about twelve) and how many I had actually met(two). I had then spent slightly less time correcting some grammatical and spelling errors that had appeared below the photos (awful really, someone had spelt "suck" as "suk"), written by cynical and bitter officers no doubt. I recognised at least one Inspector's handwriting.

I then ambled towards the canteen, a bundle of computer handouts in my hand, passing the Sergeant's Office on the way where two Sergeants sat typing at their computers. One paused and looked up.
Sgt 1: "Ah, Area, just the man. Are you doing anything right now?"
Think fast, think fast, think fast... oh bugger... "No Sarge, not particularly."
Sgt 1: "Good, pop in, I need a word"
I started to think even faster. How could he have seen from his office?
Area: "Ah, the thing is Sarge, I was only correcting their spelling. I didn't add anything."
A Blank Look.
Sgt 1: "Do I want to know what you are talking about?"
Area: "Er..."
Sgt 2: "Shut the door Area and take a seat, you're cluttering up the office."
I did as I was told, then decided to bite the bullet.
"Am I in trouble Sarge?"
Sgt 1: "Should you be?"
Sgt 2: "Stupid question, Pete."
General laughing from the Sergeants. I tried to smile as well.
Sgt 1: "In fact Area, believe it or not I just wanted to say I've received a letter from someone thanking you for your help in dealing with her incident. I've also got an email from another relief's Inspector saying you did a good job working with his team the other week."
Area: "In that case, can I take the Beano from out the back of my trousers then. As I'm not getting a beating this time?"
At this point, Sgt 2 who had been typing continually turned to me. Whilst sitting at the desk I had been nervously fiddling and folding at the print outs that I was holding. "What are you doing with those print outs Area? Is that a paper plane you're trying to make?"
Um, actually, it was supposed to be the head of a power ranger. I didn't mention this.
Sgt 1: "I think its nice that Area can express himself without using crayons occasionally." (smirk)
Sgt 2: "Of course Pete - so on top of his other talents, Area here is a black belt in Origami as well?" (snigger)

Ha ha ha. No-one should be in that much of a good mood on night duty. Especially Sergeants.

Ha bloody ha.

Magic Tree

I get lots and lots of emails; most are not addressed to me, and even fewer are relevant to me, but it gives me a lovely warm fuzzy feeling inside when I get back to work after a set of rest days to find that people at work love me so much they feel the need to write to me.

Even if most are along the lines of "will all HR staff please note that the door to the office must be locked at 3pm sharp on leaving the office so that the computers are not used by non-HR staff (ie 24hour Police Officers)."

I was on refs and reading through my emails, when I read one from one of our team Sergeants, addressed to all our team. It read something like this:
"At a recent critical incident, the Chief Inspector was disappointed to note that some of our officers were not wearing their hats, and others had put on their hi-viz jacklets without first putting on their ties. He has asked for this to be raised within the team, and it has fallen to me to raise this morale-building point on behalf of the senior management team.
Although I recognise that the incident was a fast moving and dangerous one, and you all had more on your mind, and in fact I was probably a guilty party, please try not to make yourselves a target for senior management.
On a side note, at this incident I noticed that one of our response vehicles had a fetching little decoration of a magic tree hanging from the rear view mirror. I do not want to see this again, or else I personally will be having words.
Thanks all, Sergeant Weary"

Fair point. Cut to Area locking his computer, and making his way to his unit that he had carefully parked in the Chief Supernintendo's parking space (it's OK - it was after 4pm). If a little bird had been sat on the Police Station wall, he would have noticed Area having a casual chat with a Sergeant whilst standing conspicuously in front of his windscreen and trying desperately to attract attention from the rear view mirror, then hurriedly removing an offending (Peach Blossom flavour) magic tree from his car before making his way up to his computer in a reflective frame of mind.

In my defence, these cars are used twenty four hours a day seven days a week. They are eaten in, they are sat in by officers wearing body armour in all weathers, after foot chases, they have drunks and vagrants in and even the occasional dog.

Two days later, another email from Sergeant Weary.
"RE my last email. The point also stands in relation to Traffic Light Air Freshners, Winnie the Pooh air fresheners, or in fact any object hung off the rear view mirror.
That is all."

Huh.

On Using My Asp

So far in my career I have used my asp only once in anger, outside of a public order situation.

Of course, I have used it to smash windows, search shrubbery, and poke sleeping colleagues, and have drawn it and racked it many times in readiness, but the truth is that in most of the one on one violent situations I have been in I have not had the time or the space to draw and use it.

I might have been justified in using it, but picture the scene - Police are fighting in a very thin hallway with a suspect for a domestic. He's drunk, possibly on crack and used a knife on his victim which we think he still has. He also has a long history of violence against Police. Only one person can get to him at a time - but the last thing you want is him getting away further into the house where he can arm up, have time to get his weapon out and/or barricade himself in with the victim.

So one by one, coppers try and fight him, and an asp would knock out the Police Officers before it did any harm to the suspect. Even if there was room to draw and rack it.

So although I think it's a useful piece of kit, I think most members of public would be surprised how little it is used.

The scenario described above is a common one; the area I work in has a lot of blocks of flats and housing estates with the horrible thing corridors.

Just before going on annual leave I went to yet another shout the same as above. Police had attended the address and were talking to the victim when the suspect came back. One of the officers on scene had time to call for urgent assistance, and it was immediately obvious that there was a "large disturbance in background" as our reports like to say.

We were all making our way, but of course most of us were on the opposite side of the division. Nevertheless, I was the second responding unit to arrive on scene, to find the situation as above, with lots of screaming and shouting and a Detective from a neighbouring nick sitting outside the front door bleeding and calling for more help on the radio; CID had luckily been in the area doing enquiries and actually had radios turned on, so ended up assisting.

We charged in and I stretched around to try and get a hand on part of the wriggling and fighting suspect in order to try and drag him out to try and control the situation. My crewmate ran out and I found out later smashed a window to climb in the house in order to tackle the suspect from the other side of the corridor.

One of the initial officers, injured and by this point no doubt exhausted, drew his CS and sprayed it.
This was very effective, much more than an asp would be.

On the Police Officers anyway.

As we finally dragged the suspect out, with tears rolling down our faces and coughing, ripped uniforms and two injured officers in tow, the suspect still had time to attempt to headbutt two officers, and to kick a sergeant who had arrived on scene. Not a good idea, incidentally.

As the suspect was pushed into the waiting van and the doors shut, the extractor fan was switched on, and it was immediately obvious that the suspect was recovering from the CS exposure quicker than we were.

London Ambulance attended and cleared away the injured officers to a local hospital, whilst half of the shift trekked back to custody to try and get changed/write notes/wash off the CS crystals. And of course the officer who had sprayed the CS got a little ribbing from his red-eyed colleagues.

I'm not saying I don't want CS or an Asp, but I think it's easy to feel brave with a kit belt on. Knowing their limitations is probably more useful than knowing their possibilities.

I mentioned this to a skipper who had arrived at custody to assist with the welcoming committee for the suspect. He turned to me, and said "Area, you're not a bad copper, but I wouldn't trust you to explore the limits of a wet paper bag without hurting yourself."
Good point, well made.

Off The Wall

My last post was basically about "challenging stereotypes." Yes, I've had the diversity training as well.

This is something I like to do, or more accurately, I like to make people re-think what they think about me, especially the non-job people I meet as I go about my day to day tasks at work.

Hence why I like to have a laugh; I like people to see the human side of Policing, it's great to see people's reaction when they see a Policeman behaving in a way that they wouldn't necessarily expect.

On the flip side, it also means people underestimate me. And this is very useful, as when I change from big, friendly and slightly dopy copper and snarl into actual action, it takes people by surprise.


I was surprised recently, taken aback by someone else at work. I was in our custody area, waiting for a colleague who had asked me to wait with her prisoner. I was chatting to a defence solicitor. This is frowned on in some police circles, as they are THE ENEMY. Personally I think anyone who is cynical enough to be a copper should at least appreciate the level of cynicism required to be a defence brief.

One thing had led to another, resulting in the Defence Solicitor giving me an impromptu lesson in how to Moonwalk, as per Michael Jackson in his hey day.
I have to admit that perhaps I wasn't completely successful, but I tried.

Unfortunately, my practise was interrupted by a Custody Sergeant, a notoriously grumpy bugger who works as a permanent nights Custody Officer, and actually seems to enjoy it.

He called me over to the Custody desk, and tilted his head to the side. "Area, what in the name of God do you think you are doing? We have to at least pretend to have a semblance of respect in our own Police Stations."
"Sorry Sarge." (Defence Solicitors are THE ENEMY).

The Sergeant hitched his belt over his ample waistline, and leant over the desk towards me. "Besides," he continued in a quieter voice, "You'll never do it properly in boots. You need shoes cut below the ankle; not trainers, something with a hard sole is best."
"Er, thanks Sarge."

That showed me - it was the Sergeant's way of reminding me he hadn't been born a seventeen stone Custody Sergeant.

Cha'mone!

Drink Drive, Sarge. Sorry.

This is not a funny post; those looking for a funny post should like at my "Skippers and Magic" post - that is also true, but I have been told that it is apparently funny.

This is just good advice.


When I pull you over, after you have left a night club at stupid-o-clock in the morning.

When you have stalled the car in front of me, twice, whilst I am parked up at a junction filling out some paperwork.

When your lights remain stubbornly off in the middle of the night, despite other cars trying to attract your attention.

When it takes me nearly two full minutes of driving behind you with all the warning equipment on to finally attract your attention.

When you try and switch seats with your passenger, and then end up fighting with them as they are not happy to take the grief that is rightfully coming your way...

...I have some advice for you.

When I approach the car, do not call me "Oshcifer" and "Darling" alternately. Neither helps your cause.

When I ask your name, do not start your reply with: "Er... Hang on..."

When you have failed the breath test, do not call the three men in the back of the car out to "sort him out boys!" I may be single crewed, but I am not stupid. CCTV is watching me, and I already have units running to me.

If you are going to do the above - don't put the child locks on. It just cramps your style. Believe me. And your three, big, gangsta wannabes will find it hard to look tough whilst failing to get out of the car.

Do not reply to the custody sergeant's question of "What is your name?" with a vacant look, then "Er..."

If you do end up giving the above reply, do not give a name and birth date that is different from the one that you originally gave me. This WILL end up as yet another charge for you.

Do not offer to "Blow" the Custody Sergeant rather than blow into the station breath machine. He will not find it funny. In fact, he is gay. And obviously so. No matter how short your skirt is, you are not on a winner here.


And finally, and most importantly...

Do NOT flirt outrageously with every male in the Police Station with the intention of being released. Do not stroke the officer's arms with a wink. Do not start to slowly unbutton your top, one by one, as you are waiting to be fingerprinted.

The entertainment for us is very nice, thank you. However, it will not work, you will not be released because of your actions.

More crucially, when you turn up to court in your suit and sensible skirt, with your nice parents in tow, once they (and the whole of the court) have seen the custody CCTV, you will really wish that you had just kept quiet.


Trust me on this.

Scrambled Egg

In Custody. Dealing with an arrest too boring to give the details of.

It was office hours, so there was a chance I may be able to hand over the arrest to a specialist investigation team - or failing that, a poor frustrated probationer who has been ordered to work on the Prisoner Processing Team.

It also meant that there were members of the Senior Management Team on duty. This means they can walk up to you whilst you are trying to negotiate with a drunken prisoner for his draw strings from his tracksuit bottoms, and ask you what you think of the current "divisional priorities." Or even ask you what they are.

I was attempting to write my notes, when an officer with silver and gold spread liberally on his shoulders approached me. A space cleared around me, as other coppers made good their escape. The custody sergeant started to type frantically and buried his head towards the computer screen.

I was on my own.

Senior Officer: "Hello there, er... what have you got in today?"
Area: "An arrest sir."
SO: "Ah good, with a detection I hope?"
Area: "No sir, I'm afraid not."
SO: "Ok, well there is a push on them at the moment, we are all being measured on our personal performance when it comes to getting arrests and detections."
(WE are not being measured on our personal performance for that. I am being measured on my personal performance.)
SO: "What's that on your shirt, on the radio loop?"
Area: "A tie pin sir, a charity one."
SO: "Well, that may be so, but you shouldn't wear it - any personal statement like that can cause offence to other groups."
Area: "It's an NSPCC tie pin sir - who will it cause offence to? Paedophiles? I thought we wanted to make their lives uncomfortable?"
Custody Sergeant (in emergency live saving mode): "Er, Area, can you get your prisoner out of the cell, I need to talk to him urgently. Now, Area."

The tie pin has gone now, but not for the guvnor - I broke it in a fight with a drunken wife of a man we'd arrested for beating her up, a week later.