Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Soooo long since my last post and I'm still alive and kicking in this world. Having left my last job, yippee, I now have the unenviable task of being one of Thatcher's bully boys aka a police officer. It's an interesting job to say the least and you get to meet all kinds of interesting people. You know: drunk people; drugged people; smelly people; abusive people; violent people; nutty people; and my favourite, dead people (although the conversation isn't so hot with this ethnic group). Not the worst choice I have made but I am glad to say that after the necessary training I am beginning to adopt the well polished cynical attitude towards the general public.

Christmas time, mistletoe and wine

Christmas has always been a disappointment for me but I do hold values regarding its existence. One of these values is that Christmas decorations should NOT be put up until the 21st December at the earliest. It amazes me that in a number of houses I had the misfortune to enter back in November, how many of them already had a Christmas tree in their living room. They certainly all had more decorations than I could dream to own on my salary. I suppose this is also on top of the amount they are given by the government for smoking and drinking. Perhaps there is a Christmas grant I haven't heard about but as I am gainfully employed it is unlikely that I will be able to partake in this handout. It's not very often that you enter these houses on a good note, normally it's after one of the involved parties has decided to smash something with their new baseball bat, that was probably wrapped up under the tree, before scarpering. The remaining party normally gives a tearful account of the events through a plume of smoke before stating that she doesn't want anything done about it as "I LOVE HIM" and that he's not all bad and it was just a disagreement.

Abuse between partners and ex-partners is a regular part of the role performed by an officer on the beat and in uniform. I think it's fair to say that the majority of it is complete pony and it's just one half trying to get at the other. A fine example I had was with a woman who claimed that she had split up with her partner and he had "stolen the bed" from her flat. After much digging around the truth is that the partner had been told to take the bed awat as she didn't want it anymore and it was cluttering up her taxpayer's paid for flat. She also stated that this partner had been abusive to her on numerous occasions on the phone. When I enquired as to whether or not the partner had been harassing her by telephone she revealed that the abuse had come when she had constantly phoned him! For the benefit of the incident log the text "words of advice were given" has been entered. In other words I suggested that she stopped phoning him and the abuse would stop and I was amazed at how unsarcastic I was when I gave the suggestion to her.

Drunk People

Why oh why oh why do drunken people always want to shake you by the hand when you're in uniform. They always seem to have forgotten that: a) they've been spending the night going to the toilet and not washing their hands; b) chances are they've just had a chunder in the gutter before they find my colleagues or I standing behind them; and c) they have just devoured the most greasy kebab in town. I for one find the latter part extremely offensive as I am a vegetarian and the general public never seems to respect my diversity on that quarter. My colleagues do not like the fact that I engage in conversation with some of these people but it's always good for public spirit and invariably you are told about what a good job the police do and how appreciated it is that we are on the beat. It's the only praise you normally get in the job so it's worth savouring it.

Of course, there is the other end of the spectrum where certain brands of alcopops send people's brains in to self destruct and/or destroy mode. I enjoy a drink, I have been known to get drunk, but I have never got to such a state that I have the urge to either punch someone or smash a window. Copious amounts of my favourite brand of lager are more likely to put me in a coma or at worse make me dance. I have seen a large number of people wandering around the town centre on a Friday or Saturday night and each time the song "I predict a riot" comes creeping into my head. The words of the first verse are "Watching the people get larey, not very pretty I tell 'e. Walking through town is quite scarey and not very sensible either." It then goes onto mention about a friend of a friend being beaten as he looked at the wrong way at a policeman. Well I've not seen it happen and as most people's eyes can't focus on the footpath in front of them after club kick out time I ask the question "How do you look the wrong way?" Besides which the only force I used is "home office approved" and comes under the legislation of sections 117 of PACE and section 3 of the Criminal Law Act(?)

One chap I arrested for drunk and disorderly a couple of months back was hit by a car that he inadvertently stagged out in front of. I saw him a couple of hours later and asked of his welfare after the accident. His slurred response was "OH F**K ME MATE. I'VE NEVER BEEN KNOCKED OUT LIKE THAT BEFORE." This just goes to show that a fight between homo sapien (although this can be hard to recognise) and Audi A6 has a clear cut outcome. This chap was one of those people who on his arrest pleaded that he wasn't "PISSED" and that "YOU HAVE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE OFFICER FOR WHICH YOU WILL PAY DEARLY" or at least words to that effect.

Motorists

I am still a mere probationer but one of my goals in this job is to become the unclean of the service and join the traffice department. Why? Well firstly I have a healthy hate for other road users and secondly there are so many morons out and about that really need to be brought back to earth with a bump. A fine example: Fatal crash occurs on main A road, roundabout slip road is blocked by me - not a small chap wearing a hi-visibility coat, a police car with flashing blue lights, numerous cones laid out in a home office approved way, and two police accident signs. Drivers still stopped on the roundabout and asked "IS THE ROAD CLOSED?" It was all I could do to not explain to them that it was merely a hobby of mine designed to cause as much inconvenience as possible. One person complained bitterly that as a result of this man dying it would add an additional ten minutes to his journey. Well sorry for the inconvenience, if you're planning on having a fatal road traffic crash (RTC) make sure you do it in a more convenient location please. The plebs who stopped on the roundabout completely failed to see the danger of oncoming traffic, in particular the large volume of juggernauts associated with this area due to it's proximity to a major port, and also fail to look in their rear view mirrors before slamming on their anchors. Of the ones that didn't talk they had this startled rabbit look about them, I'm sure in fact their bottom lips were quivering like a child who's been told that the sweet jar is not for consumption.

Of course, if it wasn't for my appreciation of verbal abuse at events like these, there is no way I would do this job. Watch this space!

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