Bingo Wings

Two things:


One is that I apologise for a lack of updates recently, summer is well and truly here and with that every pisshead with a few quid in their back pocket (that'll be the child allowance then) is chucking back the beer double quick. As such my work/life balance has fallen too far towards the former and I haven't had the motivation to sit down and write job as I have been living it far too much.

Secondly almost every person I have met, as in potential client, has been really strange/odd in some new way.

Take the female I met a few days ago, not only did she look at least 20 years older than the 23 years she said she lived through but she also had the largest forearms that I have ever seen. My attention was shared between the utter twaddle she was shouting at me but also how on earth someone could have bigger bingo wings than my thighs.

"I don't want nothing done, nah, you never do anything so I don't want the 'assle"
"How can we help you then if you phone us but won't evidence anything?"
"That ain't my problem though is it?"
"Then why phone us?"
"I will phone you, an' I will keep phoning you. But I don't want you to do nuffing cos it ain't worth it"


With that I took the opportunity to run out the front door and roll around in the grass to celebrate the lack paperwork.

Another delight was the arrest I made of a suspect after a report of son 'going mental'. Upon entering the house I asked the distraught informant as to where the son is...

"He's upstairs, I've had enough"

I venture upstairs and find a 12 year old sitting on the bed and I return downstairs to Mum.

"He seems alright now, you mentioned in the call he had a weapon?"
"Yes, look!"

A cricket bat, no longer than my forearm is handed to me and a dent in the wall is pointed out as the sons handy work. My discretion has gone out the window, my hands tied as to what I can do...

Three hours later, half a rain forest compiled and placed in a folder, one child interviewed with appropriate adult and the criminalised 12 year old is on his way. Policing can be such hard work.

Holby Poo..

Has anyone else had the pleasure of watching this programme?

It's been sold as a more 'serious' policing programme with 'real edge'. Sounds like a razorblade!

It's been on a while now and I have managed to catch a few episodes of it. I have a number of observations about this which seems to have overlooked by whichever retired police advisors they have on set.

The main issues I will be raising with the BBC are:

1) There are too many police officers

I know the Met have more officers than anyone else but to have literally ten's of officers walking about a station all vested up is another world away from my neck of the woods. Where are the support staff? People hiding in offices, physiques too large to fit into a police car?

2) They have decent and clean police cars

My nick has only a handful of cars mostly poorly serviced, over worked and most make creaking noises as you try whizz them out of the nick on a shout. A car I drove recently was making a horrid thunking noise from the offside with the engine cutting in and out round corners. If that wasn't already enough I had to guide it down a straight road with the steering at 20 degrees off center as the kurb mounting had taken its toll on the tracking.

Also the cars in Holby are far too clean, more choccy bar wrappers thrown around the front cabin, and a pee stain in the nearside rear seat will only increase the realism.

3) Senior Officers are walking round the nick knowing what is going on

The only time my Chief Inspector decends down to the depths of the response team room is to either find out about a job which the Super has phoned him about or to have a meeting in the Conference room next door.

As such it's always best to have anyone above the rank of Inspector upstairs and out the way 'strategising' and planning budgets or changing PCs shifts to suit their PDRs.

4) CID seem to know what they are doing and AREN'T complaining about having work given to them by Response.

Is it me or are all DCs and 'DEE EYES' all shouty and have very important pieces of paper with large photos of suspects plastered all over them? Why don't they use pro forma powerpoint presentations that often crash midway through? Can't they use something less efficient or perhaps handout a printed email to show what real budget constraints are like?


Any more suggestions?

Fight, fight, fight!

One of the problems facing a police officer is that technically we are always 'on' duty. It's doesn't mean we carry our batons and cuffs around 'just in case' but what it does mean is if that something were to happen we would be obliged to get involved.

I certainly remember early in my service taking a shoplifter to the floor whilst getting a few things with the missus on a Sunday. Heroic, yes, but ultimately it meant my missus was shopping by herself for a few minutes equalling grief for the lugholes when I eventually met her in the veg section.

This taught me a few important lessons, never abandon the missus in Tescos and also that sometimes intervening in something without any protective equipment and also minus a Biro would ultimately bite you on the arse. Thankfully on that occasion the attending officers gave me the nod so 'I was never there' which left me statement free and not being held to account.

Now that doesn't mean I am completely blinkered to reporting stuff to the police. I remember being overtaken by a riderless horse in a queue of traffic and also taking avoiding action as a pedal cyclist joined the dual carriageway - both incidents leading to a swift 999 call. As a rule though if people decide to deal with things more basically, that's called beating the shit out of each other I will probably walk on by and leave the blood soaked puddle to be wiped up by which ever service is getting paid that night.

Job nights out though (going out with police mates) mix everything up and more, the police in general are pretty much renowned for their alcohol consumption and having a wacky time. As colleagues yell and shout in the street, make naughty remarks to passing ladies and then proceed to throw shapes in the church of dance (most recently a 1980's church) I can't help feeling that in someway we are treading towards becoming a walking detection for a blinkered colleague in a different part of the county.

The most recent example happening to me waiting for a cab in a nearby city center whilst clutching onto the Missus. Whilst waiting for the cab two lads walk infront of me and I say, as politely as I possibly can "The start of the queue is that side?" with me pointing to the end about 20 people away.

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"
"I didn't want to make a thing of it, just thought I..."
"Fucking twat, who the fuck do you think you are?"

My mind is full of 'job, job, job' now..

"He's getting wound up, try and cool it. Not worth getting whacked nor is it worth giving the twat a slap back as I will get nicked, suspended, CPS, professional standards, found not guilty, no apology"

I can only imagine the chap must have seen me distracted as these thoughts crossed my mind and as quickly as he started he had gone. Phew! I nip into the cab with the missus and the drunks are left behind.

"Well he wasn't very nice was he?" I say and snuggle up with the missus in the back of the taxi knowing I can leave the fight for another night, this time on duty.