Coppers go forth..

Probationer:

Look what I got for you sir.

Salty Copper:

What?

Probationer:

It's the latest issue of "The Sharp End". Oh, damn inspiring stuff; the magazine that tells the Coppers the truth about the war on crime.

Salty Copper:

Or alternatively, the greatest work of fiction since vows of fidelity were included in the French marriage service. [flicks through paper]

Probationer:

Come, come, sir, now. You can't deny that this fine newspaper is good for the morale of the men.

Salty Copper:

Certainly not, I just think that more could be achieved by giving them some real toilet-paper. [hands paper back to Probationer]

Probationer:

Not with you at all sir, what could any patriotic chap have against this magnificent mag?

Salty Copper:

Apart from his bottom?

Probationer:

Yes.

Salty Copper:

Well look at it. [takes the paper again] I mean the stuff's about as convincing as Dr.Crippen's defence lawyer. The British Coppers are all portrayed as six foot six with biceps the size of Bournemouth with racial diversity at the forefront of their minds whilst hounding that ever elusive last detection from a crap job.

Probationer:

Thoroughly inspiring stuff.

I don't get it?

Seeing war talk like this from the home office doesn't make me feel any better when I do end up nicking someone for a firearms offence or possession of an off wep. Considering the number of jobs I go to that eventually end up in court (very few) and then have a half decent sentence given out (perhaps only once in my career) I can't see it effecting many criminals at all.

Seeing that common assault has a maximum sentence of 6 months I have never ever heard of anyone serving time for it. I also like the term 'increasing the punishment'... we don't punish people in this country!!

Here's hoping that a yoof carrying either an MP5 or a 'Manchopper 2000' knife actually gets what is coming to them as opposed to the apologist magistrates/judges seeing the off with a conditional discharge and a £40 fine.

Comply!

The officer behind walks up and says "Put your hands behind your back". I stick my hands in the small of my back "Yes officer, of course officer". The cuffs go on and at this point it's my queue to 'kick off', "Unhand me sir, I beg to differ with your judgement in arresting me" which ties in with the officers queue to put me on the floor.

My wrist promptly bends the wrong way as the cuff cuts into my wrist and I follow gravity's lead and get a mouthful of rubber mat. "Owwww!" a knee then follows me down digging into my shoulder. Unlike Mr Timberlake I'm not 'loving it' but I am force to go through the moves so the day can come to an end as soon as possible.

The police view that I should be regularly updated with a selection of methods of put people on the floor. That I should be checked that I am putting my feet in the right place when putting on handcuffs and that I can swing my baton in time with a group so that I look like a cheerleader. The truth is I have never swung my baton in anger and as the future reeks of another Text message harassment I don't think I will.

This is in complete contrast to police driving where you go on a course for a few weeks that is supposed to last you your entire career without any sign of reassessment (although I would say that is probably a relief to some of the 'lower' standard officers!).


During the course of the day I am taught how to escort a prisoner in what can best be described as 'I'm a little T-Pot' and how to wave my arms about breaking the grip of a would be assassin. Most of the moves taught reduce us to tears of laughter through their sheer impracticality, and the fact we are causing each other brutal pain through not being able to do them correctly.

The reality of any 'action' is usually a reduction to some more 'basic' techniques. A straight arm bar and the ever ready knee strike are winners in my book along with the rugby tackle and headlock. Cuffs usually end up going on in a method I describe as 'whatever'.

Fun if you can get it but the most of time I wrestle with the paperwork and fight my way out of criming another poop job.

CPS Ltd

Recently had a strange conversation with a beleagured CPS lawyer via CPS Direct Ltd. I was again late off and sitting at the end of the phone speaking to a solicitor somewhere in the UK who was mulling over a domestic job - the body was in custody and it was my responsibility to sort it out.

The conversation follows as best as I can remember it pretty much word for word:

Hello how can I help?
Hello there, Disgruntled of Senseless Constabulary here. Wonder if you can sort out a domestic for me?
Got someone in for it?
Yep, he's sitting in his cell shaking, probably from the interview
What's he got to say for himself? I've got your MG3 here.
Says that after 2 bottles of wine he can't remember hitting her
Jesus, what the hell is wrong with people these days? OK, she's made a statement?
Yep, full and supportive
Has she put her emotive bits at the end of it?
Yes, says she hates him, doesn't want him back as he has gone too far etc etc
That's good enough for me.... (Typing in background for 2 minutes)
There you go, charge him and be done with it
You don't want to see the statement?
No, you aren't a Met officer are you?
No, not even close. What does that mean exactly?
It means you don't think you are better at making a decision than anyone else can. I've emailed my bits over to you. Goodbye.

Stunned by the speed and efficiency I print off the MG and proceed to charge him. Anyone else experienced this solicitor?

Of course Met officers will undoubtedly not need CPS and form their own opinion.... ;)

Chunky Monkey

Fat face and I were crewed up a couple of days ago. The Sergeant smirked at me when he did this, not only was he aware I wasn't entirely convinced of Fat Face's abilities but the repugnant nature of the chunky one's demeanour was something that repulsed me. When it was announced I would have to spend the entire shift with it my professionalism took over, although eye contact with Fat Face became slightly more difficult. My feelings struck from my features in disbelief.

Briefing over and I mooch over to a terminal, how the fuck am I going to get through the next few hours with it sitting next to me. I flick through the jobs on the queue... "Crap, crap, oooohh... that's even worse". Eventually I find a misper job with a 17 year old who has gone clubbing against his carer's wishes. Right that's easy, form, minimal enquiries with the usual numbers and then circulation - easy.

Fat Face wanders up, "When we going out? Let's fight crime!" OK, it's 2300 on a Tuesday, it's raining and the only person I saw as I drove in was a milkman. "Yes, lets" I said reluctantly, "Let's make a difference".

Fat Face wanders off and I see my opportunity. I sneak from my terminal, grab a set of keys and off to the backyard. Freedom, maybe I can even get through tonight.

"Unit please, for an immediate response to an informant chasing a male who has his car radio". Jesus, and I am the only unit available. I turn to see Fat Face running out the back door towards me, "Coming coming". Sigh....

Cold car, fogged up, lights, sirens, cars not pulling out the way, split the traffic, arrive, area search and frankly not a sausage about.

Fat Face leaps out the car and engages with the informant. Name, DOB, address, location, all the usual. I peer at the broken window of the car, the object that broke it clearly visible, a stone, and the rough plastic which the suspects may have made contact with. "In all honesty I would be surprised if forensics could get any prints off of that surface, I don't think it would hold". Fat Face turns to me in front of the victim "Of course they could". I stand up, puzzled "The surface isn't smooth, it would be an outside chance, I'm being realistic" and I turn to the victim who is standing in front of us nodding to me. "No, I'm sure they could".

My face turns to a blank and I'm wondering who the fuck Fat Face thinks they are. I bet the victim is really impressed with two officers effectively contradicting each other. I also bet that Fat Face with their literally weeks of experience would not know better than me with a number of years in. I coax the victim back into his house and let Fat Face take details, they are the unrealistic one, may as well let them take the job.

What if I just drove off and left them here, what if I were to say I saw someone running into the woods and let them run off with me sitting in the warm car. Damn, I'm turning into a vindictive so and so... but it feels good.

Fat Face eventually finishes the details after what seems a lifetime and I wander out to the car. I turn to them and say "Well after that I need a drink". "Yeah I need a coffee too".

That's not what I was thinking of....

More stories to come as I recall them from my twisted, bitter mind.