Snow - Naughty

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?

Ambos and Tea Spots

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...

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.

Truck Drivers and Refs

It's a wonderfully rainy Early Turn and I'm on the way to the CJU (Criminal Justice Unit) to sign a statement, when a call is assigned to us to deal with.
"Caller states a lorry parked in her road last night and is still there. Believed suspicious. Foreign registered vehicle. Informant states that it is suspicious as it is bigger than the trucks that usually park there overnight."

After calming ourselves down from the excitement of the call text, then trying to work out what they expect us to do with it, we trundle over there. It is not an emergency call, but due to the lack of traffic we are on scene very quickly.

Sure enough, there is a lorry parked there. And it is foreign registered. It's a shame, as I can't give my favourite result for this call, but hey ho. The rain is easing but still steady, and as the engine performs the diesel death shudder and the wipers stop, the windscreen is quickly covered with drops which hide the lorry. I grab my hat and pull the collar of my goretex jacket up and step outside to brave the wind followed by my intrepid partner.

We put the VRM (registration number) on the CAD (control room computer system), but as it is Polish registered we can't check anything on PNC (Police National Computer) for it, and I am struggling to work out why it is suspicious. As my partner stares blankly at the back of the trailer, I walk idly round the truck wondering whether we'll be going back to our nick for breakfast, or whether we can stay on this side of the ground for some more of the shift - it's nicer over here and you get a better class of domestics to report.

I get to the cab and I hear movement inside. I knock on the door and the movement stops. "Ah ha," I think, "Perhaps some naughty miscreants have removed this truck from the rightful owners and now are shaking in fear on the approach of the police."

I call my partner over. He is almost as excited as me at this turn of events, and shows it by saying "are we getting refs today or not?"

I try the door handle and it opens, so I climb up into the cab of the truck. At the back of the truck is a bed area with a curtain across, which I pull back. Sure enough, there are three people inside the truck. A young fella in his mid twenties, and two girls. In the bed. Together. Nekkid all of them. Ah.I feel that a tactical withdrawal is in order as the three people stop their activities and stare at me open mouthed.
"One minute," I say.

I jump out and say to my partner "You've done traffic before haven't you? HGVs and tachos and all that? This is more up your street." He sighs and climbs up, and I see him come to a stop halfway up. I even hear what may well be a very naughty word uttered by a shocked PC. This is reassuring as I wasn't sure whether I had really seen what I thought I had - I didn't stay long enough to take details down.

My partner is talking to them, and I hear him say something about getting dressed. His voice is getting louder and more insistent and I suspect that more naughty words may be forthcoming, but he seems to get the message across and the bloke from inside the truck climbs out wearing a pair of jeans and clutching a tshirt. "Czesc," I say. I'm talented like that.

Turns out this Polish driver has met two local girls out and about in town the evening before, and the girls had a little argument about who liked him more, which ended up in them coming back to his truck to "prove themselves." The driver wants to know if he will be arrested. I want to know where our breakfast is going to be. Documents seem ok, and we wave them goodbye; I result the call as "no offences." Good luck to the fella.

We decide to get refs on this side of the ground, which makes me happy as I'm starving. An emergency call comes out: "any unit for a domestic disturbance off the high street, informant states her husband is drunk and won't leave the address." I look at my watch, it's 0640hours. Me and my partner sigh as we know that we need to take the call as we're available and working that area, he answers up for the call and I press the nee-nar button and we start trundling over that way.

Looks like we're going back to our side of the ground for refs.