Warning Formula

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

Merry Christmas

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."

Babycakes

True Story: I helped deliver a baby once.
Well, kind of.

I was on patrol with an older and much wiser colleague, John, and we were well into the night duty. It was the time of night when the pubs and clubs had shut, and on the roads were mainly night duty workers and naughty people.

Sensible people sleep at that time of night.

We were travelling along a dual carriageway on the edge of our district, when a car went past us travelling at speed. We did a quick turn at a gap in the central reservation and went after it, but it had long gone and after we'd passed a junction we knew we weren't going to find it, so my colleague killed the blue lights and settled down to a steady fifty miles per hour.

As we were wondering along listening to the radio chatter and talking shop gossip, we noticed a car parked on the side of the road with it's hazards going. John slowed the car down and we noticed the interior light was on, and two people in the back seat.

Spotting the chance to shout at a couple who had obviously let their romantic intentions overcome them, we parked in front of the car and walked back to it, giggling like schoolboys.

We have an area used for "dogging" in our division, and I've stumbled upon sex in strange places before, but I'd never seen it at the side of a dual carriageway.

As we arrived at the car we realised that all was not as it had seemed. The noises we had heard coming from the car were not in fact cries of passion, but the shouts of a woman in labour.

Having learnt from past situations involving stressful medical situations, I got straight on the radio asking for an ambo to attend, leaving my oppo to "assess" the situation.
There was a young woman on the back seat, a panic striken husband, and lots of messyness. I grabbed the Police car keys from my colleagues belt and ran back to the car, activated the strobes and rear reds, and reversed back to behind the couple's car, parking in a fend off position.

As I ran less enthusiastically back to John, my eyes took in the scene with increasing horror. I have no children, but I was sure that this was not someone who had plenty of time. The baby was obviously coming soon, but I had no idea what to do. John was muttering calming words at the woman, and I remembered he had two children. This was encouraging. They obviously taught methods for assisting labour to Dads.

I leant in to gain from his expertise, and whispered under the woman's shouts: "What do you want me to do John? LAS is on the way."
John: "Christ knows, I've got no idea. I was in Northern Ireland when my first was born, and on duty when the second one was."
Me: "Oh dear. Is it supposed to look like that?"
John: "I told you. I. Don't. Know."
Me: "Jesus John, that's disgusting. That can't be natural."
John: "Shut UP, Area."

I retired with my pride intact, and asked a few questions of the Dad, how far along the mum was, expected date, any allergies or complications - anything that might assist the ambo crew when they turned up.

As I did, John called up again: "I think it's coming now!"
I looked for the ambulance and realised that he was probably not referring to that, and crouched next to him. The Dad had clambered into the front seat and was having his hand crushed by his wife, and John was doing his best to monitor the situation, but aside from the joking we were both savagely aware that our medical knowledge in this area was sorely lacking.

I was unbelievably relieved to see an ambulance turn up, and John and myself stepped back sharpish as the crew set up and started treating the mother. Lots of painkillers I hoped.

The baby was born some minutes later, at the side of the road, after the arrival of an LAS Fast responder unit as well, lit by the flicker of blue and red strobe lights and the occasional headlights of passing cars. The baby screamed immediately, and as the ambulance pulled away the fast response lass explained they were taking them back on blues more for the mother than the baby, as she had lost some blood.

We locked up the car, and cleared the scene. We were both laughing and joking, a good result and an example of feeling like a real Policemanofficer, although no detection was forthcoming for it.

If this was a film, we'd have been instrumental in helping the child grow up, had the baby named after us, and made friends with the couple.
In reality, we left the keys in hospital, were told the baby and mum were fine, and went to the next call. I never even found out the sex of the baby. The next night the car was gone from the road, and so was the evidence of the medical gear and mess that was made.

It did acheive one thing though - it completely put me off the idea of childbirth, and all that miracle of life rubbish. It was bloody horrible.

I was right when I was speaking to John at the side of the road.

It's just not natural.