TotallyUn-PC

To the world, the disused railway bank is empty and calm. No sign of the hell to be soon unleashed on its sun baked weeds. I’m well hidden here,  entrenched on a verge, head deep in the undergrowth. My chest heaves and all I can hear is my breathing, my heart pounding as I try to silence my body. The smell of the reed-grass redolent and rich as it tickles my face.

I chance a glance to my right and Vince is there too. Red faced and puffing. The crawl from the rendezvous point was exhausting and hot. He’s lying flat, his cheek pushed into the dry earth. I place a finger to my lips telling him to stay still with nothing more than an indication.

We can’t see them, but just over the ridge they lie in wait, just like us. I know they are there… I can sense it. Deep in the grass, waiting for the first sign of attack.

I signal to Vince…. ready? He nods in agreement, and passes the nod down the line to Peter and Clive who are crouched behind the trunk of a great Oak bristling with rich green leaves.

I lift my gun, I don’t know it…. but I will, one day…. its a Heckler and Koch G3, designed in the 50’s by the Spanish. Vince has a Famas, 1946 design famed by the French Army for decades…. Peter has a Remington bolt action single shot rifle and poor old Clive is holding a stick.

I pick myself up and sprint to the top of the bank, weapons to bear as we spill onto the old railway line in a single line….shouting as I lead the charge, running hard and leaping over the edge without fear…. and we have them…. five prostrate forms in the undergrowth…. the look of surprise as we unload bullet after bullet into them… slaughtering them with round after round… the mid-day sky shattered with the chatter of machine gun fire and explosions!

“Piow, piow!” I shout, closely followed by a rasping “Brrrrraa! Brrrraa!” as I fire round after round into a hapless Stuart Robinson… a German for the day. Yesterday he was an American just like me. I look at Clive who lobs his second invisible grenade, the explosion is huge and Paul Smith and Jason Durkin play along, leaping up to their feet the hurl themselves back down again in a faux slow motion death, rolling down the bank faster than their tears of laughter on their cheeks! Clive finishes them off with a few dozen rounds from his stick as we retreat back up the hill. We don’t take prisoners. We execute them all. Victorious again, the battle for Dead Frog Hill is over and the Americans, although we were a warrior short with only four of us, win the day! I’m 10 years old.

30 years later, I’m sat in a car waiting for a Duty Officer. The call sounded so bad that the Armed Response Unit have been called and they are on their way. That might be my future, but for now I have to form an RVP, obtain Tactical Advice, and begin an Armed Operation Record. Then the tell-tale clue comes in. Updated intelligence on the man in the park with a MAC-10 machine gun. The man is not a man at all. He’s an 8 year old boy.

I make a judgement. I decide to drive into the street.

“Do you know where Johnny Blogs lives?” I ask an inquisitive group of 9 year old Ronaldos.

Then I approach the house where they pointed. I two storey new build in sand coloured brick, heaving under the weight of the satellite dish.

Sandy answers, and I ask her to fetch little Johnny home.

“Why” she says,

“Cos he’s waving a MAC-10 at people”

“Whats a MAC-10″

“It’s a gun”

“Oh its plastic”

“I guessed that, can you get him or not?”

She phones him on his mobile ….. 8 years old?…. a mobile? oh well.

5 minutes later, still no Armed Response, in comes little Johnny, a MAC-10 held gangsta stylee in his right hand. I explain our call to all.

Then I hear Grandma before I see her. Walking in the back door.

“Fackin old Bill! They Ave fack all else to do, so they make a facking song and dance abaht a kid wiv a fackin shoota from the paaaaaarnd shop!! what a bunch of wan….”

She stops as she enters the room. Because I’m holding a MAC-10 up towards her.

“Fackin ell!” she yells eloquently. “You nearly killed me there of an ‘art attack”

“Well you bought it madam, if your scared of it, imagine how someone else might feel, before we knew this was in the hands of an 8 year old we were going to tear gas your daughters pretty little maisonette.”

I think I made my point.

I thought this was a funny one….. amusing observations welcome.

This was troll boys latest email to me…. (one of simply hundreds that usually don’t see print) but need I say more….?  comments on this troll are welcome….

Its not a competition…. it’s just for laughs!

(Ps. Nothing edited! this is his own rant)

… nah

People who have their own blogs are just train spotters at heart. Control freaks, a bit anal - and no real authority and feel undervalued out there in the real world.

Don’t you think?

Bit of a let down for you though eh?, that apart from a couple of your buddies with blogs of their own - comments such as this one are the only attention or activity that gets sent our way.

Not quite the open forum of hot debate and mass camaraderie for people on the job that you envisaged at the start.

Is it?

Book deal not come through yet either?

.. just a parting point for you to consider: The other week, over on “nightjacks” blog, a lot of posts appeared with your silly “nom de plume” on them . They described this up and coming relaunched site and told everyone that hey had to register in order to contribute.

Eventually “You ” had quite a dialogue going with a couple of people and “your” side of the conversations were pompous, obnoxious , acerbic, short-tempered, posturing and pretentious and ridiculously belligerent ….

… and not one damned person- including nightjack himself - thought they were talking to anyone other than the real TUPC

Kind of tells you something?

Do you think anyone really believed you when you tried to say that they were written by another?

Oaf.

Laters ! :))

I’ve never been a proper fan of the Federation if I’m honest…. I think the politest thing I’ve referred to them as over the years is the Toothless Tiger.

However in fairness, I do believe despite their impotence, they do try their best to get their, (ahem, our) point across. I’ve had good and bad experiences at local level from representation but fortunately never had to deal with anyone further up the Fed Ladder.

Something I’m actually glad about. I’m still not a fan. Something major would need to change for that to change.

That said..

Jan Berry retires this month. So “bye bye, good luck and happy retirement.”

Now we watch the rise and rise of the self servers who wish to fill her shoes!

I was tagged to ask my Favourite book and why…..

I figure that the “why” is rather subjective, so I’ve listed my top 5 (That I can remember)…. for no reason other than I can… and yes, they are in order of preference.

1. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks

2. American Psycho - Bret Easton Ellis

3. The Lord of The Rings - J.R.R. Tolkien

4. Making History - Stephen Fry

5. A Bridge Too Far - Cornelelius Ryan (Non Fiction)

Of course there could be hundreds more….  But these are simply brilliantly written.

 I knew dealing with an armed man shooting at people in the street would be the fault of the police eventually…. but It’s only taken a day to blame us this time…                    I had a very brief chat with some of the guys involved on the perifory of the big job the other day, then saw this article.

I know it is impossible to fathom a fathers grief, so I lay no blame on his question why Mark was shot even if it’s blatantly obvious to everyone else, and there’s probably only one person who will ever know why Mark took the course of action that he did, and he’s no longer with us.

However, We (Thats the Royal we) do not go out in search of a kill! Yet there’s lots of information to suggest Mark did. Even if it meant himself. He also had the means to do it, and to be honest, from the accounts I’ve heard, he tried.

I’ll say no more because unlike Deborah Coles (Of Inquest) who seems to assume its another trigger happy slaughtering, we just don’t know and maybe won’t know why he did what he did…. but I’ve a feeling the news isn’t too far from the truth on this one…. There was a temporarilly derranged male on the loose with a gun, and the right people were in the right place to do what had to be done.

Spare a thought for the guys who were doing their job.

Thats all I ask.

By the way This article is far more balanced!

Just a quickie this week - got a lot on….

When I read the other bloggers, I really get to see parts of the job I’d almost forgotten. Its been years since I was properly involved in Public Order, detections, dog bites, sudden deaths and “community values”, If I deal with any of the above, I’ve obviously got lost or promoted again, Because I’m afraid our friendly neighbourhood terrorists appear to be taking over my specific job and world in equal measure these days, but having just read County Mountie, reminding me of public order, or rather disorder, then PCSO Blogs about everything street, then happening upon one of those cops with camera type TV programmes recently, which was an interesting byte of town centre policing it reminded me of the way life used to be before the smell of gun oil!

I take my hat off to town centre coppers who have to deal with 10 clubs emptying at the same time in the morning! My first nick was just such a place, and I remember many nights watching civilisation crumble from the drivers seat of my Panda. When people asked me “what you gonna do about it?” I would open the window the regulation inch and say, ” I’m the only copper for five miles, I’m gonna wait till they are done! then I’ll get an ambulance for the loser and a van for the winner!”

Does that tactic still work these days?

Answers below please……

I’d like if I may, to draw your attention to the story below…. You think your employer listens to you?

well do ya???

The Metropolitan Police Service has selected the winning uniform design from eight finalists at the London College of Fashion.
The lucky winning designers Jude Cunningham and Alice Burkett, were selected from over 50 students who participated in the project. They each won £500, towards furthering their studies.Deputy Assistant Commissioner (name removed), who is chairing the Met’s Uniform Review said;
“I have been really impressed at the ideas which all the finalists have displayed. It has been fantastic to hear what young Londoners think our Police Officers for the future should be wearing.”
“As we continue to review our Uniform , I really hope that we can incorporate some of the innovative ideas that the students have researched.”Judy Fitzgerald (Course Leader: Product Design and Development for the Fashion Industries) from London College of Fashion said;
“Designing a Uniform concept has certainly been an exciting and challenging brief for our students. Not only did they have to consider the look and feel of the garments but also their function. They had to think carefully about the type of fabric, choosing materials that were breathable and lightweight but also durable and that provide protection to the officer.”

Jude Cunningham - Winner of the Womenswear, who designed a new version of trousers said;
“The trousers which I designed, features an adjustable waistband, allowing officers to choose whether to wear them low or high waisted for the best comfort. In addition the trousers feature moveable pockets with storage for items such as handcuffs etc, so that officers do not need to wear a separate utility belt.”

Alice Burkitt, from the group who won the menswear concept, spoke about the inspiration for the cape design;
“Due to the health and safety requirements of a high visibility garment, a circle design is the most effective way of achieving this over the widest surface area. The cape then folds up into a small pouch for storage in a pocket or on the utility belt.”

Caped Crusaders? (What next? pants outside our trousers?)

Sorry Ladies and others…. But I have a more simplistic approach:

 WHY  DON’T YOU ASK A BLOODY POLICE OFFICER WHAT UNIFORM WE NEED!!!!?

I’ve been tagged by the Nodster.

I was hoping he’d forget all about me after Saturdays result…. But he didn’t

1. I bite my nails.

2. I have no interest in guns of any kind whatsoever. Despite that, I carry three every day at work, and am qualified to fire over half a dozen different weapons. How did that happen?

3. I have no photographs of me at work. I like it like that. Not a single one of me in uniform. Never liked it. Though I do appear on a video filmed by quiche-eating tree-huggers in Scotland.

4. I’ve sat on the throne of England. Many times.

5. I spent two years undercover. Loved it and hated it in equal measure. Though I did drive many splendid cars and saw many things I’d like to forget.

6. Just like James Blunt, I’ve spent a night with the queen mum and the crown jewels.

7. Nelson Mandela shook my hand… I wasn’t going to bother… But he actually approached me and took hold of it… what can you do?

I’ve tagged:

Police Camera Paperwork

Nightjack

Alice

WPC Wannabe

PCSO Bloggs

Whichendbites

and the Mighty Trucker

Now I’m not talking about the ones where there is a knife sticking out of the deceased’s throat, or the several gunshots to the face are a clue to the cause of death being a tad unlawful, but I’m talking about the little old lady or grandpa Joe found dead in the bathroom. (as an aside, if any medical experts out there have statistics on the amount of old people who die on the toilet, I’d be genuinely interested.In my time, I’ve seen quite a few, I’m assuming its directly linked to the amount of effort their final poo is taking out of them?…. I digress!)

Its at moments like this, with the sad natural non suspicious passing of a nearest and dearest that we often get called as an afterthought. 

It goes like this.

1. Grandad found dead, maybe on the loo or something ( I know, enough already). Kick the deceased, just to make sure he’s not asleep again.

2. Weeping, call ambulance.

3. Paramedics know enough to spot a carcass, Kick the deceased, just to be sure and call police, less writing that way.

4. Probationer and poor Mentor turn up. Kick the deceased, Yep, he’s in a better place!

5. Tea and sympathy, Ambulance crew moonwalk out of Dodge City.

6. Probationer collates notes for report which will be filed before ink dries.

7. Force Doctor or family doctor attend. Kick Deceased, agree’s with original diagnosis.

8. Supervisor is called (hi, that’s me) and attends. Kicks Deceased, agree’s with original diagnosis.

9. CID or (Children Intending to be Detectives) attend. Kick Deceased, wouldn’t know what a body looked like if they woke up underneath one, and agree with original diagnosis after pretending to “investigate” the whole house for signs of struggle, but fail to notice a dozen bottles of Heart pills in bathroom.

10. Coroner arrives, Kicks deceased, (can’t be too careful) then cart off to morgue for funny photos (or not, I don’t know what they do with em, just a guess!)

11. Probationer tells family we will be in touch.

12. We never get in touch.

If I’ve missed any points out (not including property, family on scene, phew, feel free to let me know) but my point is, this is one of the few jobs we do, that we really don’t have to. And this ritual of stomping through a grieving family’s home seems remarkable and time consuming, unnecessary and a little insensitive given that the outcome was known some hours before, by the very family we eventually offer no support to.

So why do we need to do it? Who’s backs are we actually covering? The ambulance crew are out of the door in seconds, yet we hang around like lemons for hours.

I’ve blogged this because a colleague (who is a PC) was a bit upset and embarassed that they (with the assistance of medical paramedics, and a qualified Doctor) were not trusted to know that this particular incident was non -supicious, and questioned why a supervisor (with an expired ELS ticket), and two pretend Detectives needed to pop by, say “sorry for your loss” and pop out again leaving them to try and explain to a puzzled family why they alone could not be believed.

All I could say was, “it’s policy, we do it to cover our backs” not really knowing the answer.

(Author’s note) This was a post I wrote in from 2006, but Wannabe made me think about posting about death again, then I thought… in 2006 no one had read anything I’d written, so I’ve dredged it up again. Nothings changed, we still turn up for the exact same reason, and my answer at the end is exactly the same!

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