What Did I do at Work Today? Not this, for sure.
Discussion
I thought I'd post up what the conspiracists amongst you seem to think the Police spend their time doing.
If I've missed any corruption or criminal behaviour you think I should have included, please do let me know.
I am not naive enough to believe that any or all of the described behaviour never takes place, but in my experience, it is a lot less common, and becoming even less common, than some may think.
And just so you're under no misapprehension, the entire following post is fictitious. I have inlcluded, purely for dramatic effect, rascist and abusive language and behaviour that I would never use, either on or off duty.
If I've missed any corruption or criminal behaviour you think I should have included, please do let me know.
I am not naive enough to believe that any or all of the described behaviour never takes place, but in my experience, it is a lot less common, and becoming even less common, than some may think.
And just so you're under no misapprehension, the entire following post is fictitious. I have inlcluded, purely for dramatic effect, rascist and abusive language and behaviour that I would never use, either on or off duty.
Had a bit of a heavy night last night, and didn’t get home from the pub until about 2.30am, well and truly bladdered. It’s a right pain in the arse being on earlies, and having to start at 7.00am when you’ve been out on the piss, I can tell you. Still, I rang my Sergeant up, and he said I could come in a bit later; it’s a good job I saw him “confiscating” those three wraps of coke off a scrote he’d beaten up in the rear yard last week, he’ll be under my thumb for ages now.
Drove in to work, and I still felt a bit woozy, so I think I went through a Gatso well over the 30 limit. Luckily I was in the plain car (mine’s in the garage after I crashed into the pub car park wall last week), I’ll just do the usual, and not bother to fill in the log book, and they’ll never know who was driving anyway. Mind you, even if I had been in my own car, all it would have taken would have been a quick phone call to my mate Dave at the central process unit, and he’d pull my ticket for me, no problem. The audit trail never gets checked for these things anyway.
While I had the plain car, I kept my civvy coat on and went and got some shopping from the supermarket. I had my breakfast in there as well – I’d have been stupid not to, as you get it cheap if you show your warrant card. I know you’re only supposed to do it if in you’re in uniform, but the till girl’s a right little fit piece, and I let her off for no insurance a few weeks back, and she’s been very grateful ever since, and I’m not just talking cheap breakfasts, if you know what I mean…
Anyway, I got into work, and as usual, there were no spaces in the garage. Not a problem, I’ll just leave the car on the double yellows at the front of the nick, with the laminated “POLICE – ON DUTY” sticker in it. There’s no way I’m walking across the road from the overflow car park in this rain.
I got into the office about 9.00am, but the Sergeant knows better than to try and dock me any time, so I’ll write my duty diary up from 7.00am. I can always find something to stick in there, even if it’s only “file preparation”. It’s getting a bit tricky nowadays though, because you have to log your radio onto the “command and control” computer dispatch system, and I’ll only be able to pretend I don’t know how to for a few more weeks at best. Normally I get a mate to do my radio for me, but I’d taken mine home so I could shout up a patrol to give me a lift home from the pub. I’d left it switched on overnight, so the battery was flat.
I still feel a bit under the weather, so I’ll take the LTI 20-20 laser out for a bit, somewhere nice and quiet. I can’t be bothered to calibrate it; I’ll just fill in the check sheet to say I have. It’s bound to be right anyway. I should be able to make a few quid on the side, as well as writing a couple of tickets, as long as I pick my marks carefully. I get my stuff together, and then put myself on the Intoxilyzer, just to be sure. I blow 43 (the limit’s 35), but I don’t plan on actually speaking to anyone for a bit, so it’ll be all right. I’ve got some mints and some gum anyway, just in case.
I can’t be arsed hanging around. The traffic lights and one way system in the town centre can take ages to get through, so I’ll just stick the lights and sirens on to make things easy for myself. The blue lights on the parcel shelf will take care of the Gatsos as well, because you can bet I’ll not be slowing down for them. My best tally is six cameras in one eight hour shift – and that was without even trying, just by not paying attention. Thankfully there’s always some muppet member of the public in a car to stop that I was trying to “catch up”! It’s either that or Dave at the ticket office.
I may as well flick the video on once I’m out of the town centre – you never know who you can force into acting like a dick if you get close enough behind them on the motorway. Shame all we’ve got is an unmarked Volvo – imagine the laughs you could have winding people up in an unmarked Porsche! Sure enough, once I’m in lane three, there’s some rep in a Vectra that thinks he’s Ayrton Senna, so I’ll pull him over and give him a speeding ticket. I can’t believe it when he tells me he was “only” doing 78, and it’s a clear dry day with no traffic about! What do these idiots think the limits are for?
I get to the laser site, and it’s a bit cold and blowy, so I’ll just fire it through the window. It won’t make much difference anyway. I manage to write a couple of tickets, and even get a couple of “on the spot” fines paid. Well, everyone’s happy, aren’t they? I’ve made a few quid, and the punters don’t get any points on their licence. Obviously that doesn’t apply to one of the punters. Because I know he hasn’t got a licence anyway, but even if I lock him up, his mate will just say he was driving, so why bother?
After about an hour of speed trapping (I even got one at 41 in a 40!), I decide it’s time to head back to the nick for a meal break. I stop on the way and collect a “discounted” meal from McDonald’s; I wouldn’t normally eat there, but they do a very good discount for Police… I get back to the nick and eat my lunch and have a couple of games of snooker, and watch a bit of TV. I know we’re only supposed to take 45 minutes in an eight hour shift, but it’s not really that busy today. And anyway, I’ve had that burglary to go to for a week now, so another half an hour’s not going to make any difference, is it? They shouldn’t have all that nice stuff on show anyway round there – it’s practically an invite to the thieves, that is.
I get round to the old dear who’s been burgled a couple of hours later. I would have been there sooner, but I stopped some lippy Paki kid with a chip on his shoulder. I soon sorted him out with a couple of quick slaps – maybe he’ll not be so cocky next time I pull him over (I’m aiming to get into double figures with him this week, and he knows it, the gobby little wanker). He’d get loads more off the Police back home in Bangladesh or wherever him and his family come from, I can tell you. They don’t mess about, the cops in these third world backwaters. And I don’t hold with him bleating on about being English, never mind if he was born here. If he doesn’t like getting stopped on his way to work, he can always get back over there, can’t he?
Anyway, when I get round to the burglary, the old dear hasn’t even bothered to tidy up. I ask you, what does she think we’re actually going to do for her? I’m not hanging round waiting for Scenes of Crime, so I tell her she can clean up, and then she starts bleating about there being fingerprints and blood all over the kitchen window and tiles, and footprints on the sink and the lino. And apparently, she’s “seen it on TV”, where they can find out who it was from stuff like this. She’ll probably only lie to the insurance company about what she’s had nicked. I shout up on the radio for Scenes of Crime, but they say they’re going to be at least another couple of hours, so I leave the old dear with it. The miserable old cow didn’t even offer to make me a brew, all she kept whingeing on about was “My Albert’s medals”. I tell her she should be able to get some more off e-Bay, but she just gives me a blank look, so I tell her to have a look round the second hand shops instead. She had the nerve to ask me whether that was something that I should be doing. I put her straight on that one.
Anyway, I’ve had enough for today, so it’s back to the nick and an early finish. I can’t be arsed hanging about, so it’s lights and sirens all the way there. Still no spaces, so it’s double yellows again. I’m just going in through the back yard, when I see a gobby little chav off the estate who flicked the Vs at me last week. I was on CCTV at the time, so I let it ride just then. Sure, there’s CCTV in the yard, but you’ve got to know where the blind spots are. Put it this way, that gobby little chav won’t be flicking the Vs with that hand for a few weeks, not till his fingers get out of plaster anyway. That’ll teach him to “resist arrest”. And the look on that probationer’s face was priceless! Looks like another social worker we’ve recruited!
And the rest of the jobs I got sent to (which I never even bothered with) I’ve just written off as “no crime” or not a Police matter. We can’t spend our entire time running round after these idiots who can’t sort stuff out for themselves. And think of the tax payer’s money I’ve saved by not bothering with all this “multi agency” rubbish they’re always spouting on about.
Right, across the road to the pub for a few beers, then I think I’ll use the firm’s car again to get home. It’s always better when someone else pays for the petrol…
Drove in to work, and I still felt a bit woozy, so I think I went through a Gatso well over the 30 limit. Luckily I was in the plain car (mine’s in the garage after I crashed into the pub car park wall last week), I’ll just do the usual, and not bother to fill in the log book, and they’ll never know who was driving anyway. Mind you, even if I had been in my own car, all it would have taken would have been a quick phone call to my mate Dave at the central process unit, and he’d pull my ticket for me, no problem. The audit trail never gets checked for these things anyway.
While I had the plain car, I kept my civvy coat on and went and got some shopping from the supermarket. I had my breakfast in there as well – I’d have been stupid not to, as you get it cheap if you show your warrant card. I know you’re only supposed to do it if in you’re in uniform, but the till girl’s a right little fit piece, and I let her off for no insurance a few weeks back, and she’s been very grateful ever since, and I’m not just talking cheap breakfasts, if you know what I mean…
Anyway, I got into work, and as usual, there were no spaces in the garage. Not a problem, I’ll just leave the car on the double yellows at the front of the nick, with the laminated “POLICE – ON DUTY” sticker in it. There’s no way I’m walking across the road from the overflow car park in this rain.
I got into the office about 9.00am, but the Sergeant knows better than to try and dock me any time, so I’ll write my duty diary up from 7.00am. I can always find something to stick in there, even if it’s only “file preparation”. It’s getting a bit tricky nowadays though, because you have to log your radio onto the “command and control” computer dispatch system, and I’ll only be able to pretend I don’t know how to for a few more weeks at best. Normally I get a mate to do my radio for me, but I’d taken mine home so I could shout up a patrol to give me a lift home from the pub. I’d left it switched on overnight, so the battery was flat.
I still feel a bit under the weather, so I’ll take the LTI 20-20 laser out for a bit, somewhere nice and quiet. I can’t be bothered to calibrate it; I’ll just fill in the check sheet to say I have. It’s bound to be right anyway. I should be able to make a few quid on the side, as well as writing a couple of tickets, as long as I pick my marks carefully. I get my stuff together, and then put myself on the Intoxilyzer, just to be sure. I blow 43 (the limit’s 35), but I don’t plan on actually speaking to anyone for a bit, so it’ll be all right. I’ve got some mints and some gum anyway, just in case.
I can’t be arsed hanging around. The traffic lights and one way system in the town centre can take ages to get through, so I’ll just stick the lights and sirens on to make things easy for myself. The blue lights on the parcel shelf will take care of the Gatsos as well, because you can bet I’ll not be slowing down for them. My best tally is six cameras in one eight hour shift – and that was without even trying, just by not paying attention. Thankfully there’s always some muppet member of the public in a car to stop that I was trying to “catch up”! It’s either that or Dave at the ticket office.
I may as well flick the video on once I’m out of the town centre – you never know who you can force into acting like a dick if you get close enough behind them on the motorway. Shame all we’ve got is an unmarked Volvo – imagine the laughs you could have winding people up in an unmarked Porsche! Sure enough, once I’m in lane three, there’s some rep in a Vectra that thinks he’s Ayrton Senna, so I’ll pull him over and give him a speeding ticket. I can’t believe it when he tells me he was “only” doing 78, and it’s a clear dry day with no traffic about! What do these idiots think the limits are for?
I get to the laser site, and it’s a bit cold and blowy, so I’ll just fire it through the window. It won’t make much difference anyway. I manage to write a couple of tickets, and even get a couple of “on the spot” fines paid. Well, everyone’s happy, aren’t they? I’ve made a few quid, and the punters don’t get any points on their licence. Obviously that doesn’t apply to one of the punters. Because I know he hasn’t got a licence anyway, but even if I lock him up, his mate will just say he was driving, so why bother?
After about an hour of speed trapping (I even got one at 41 in a 40!), I decide it’s time to head back to the nick for a meal break. I stop on the way and collect a “discounted” meal from McDonald’s; I wouldn’t normally eat there, but they do a very good discount for Police… I get back to the nick and eat my lunch and have a couple of games of snooker, and watch a bit of TV. I know we’re only supposed to take 45 minutes in an eight hour shift, but it’s not really that busy today. And anyway, I’ve had that burglary to go to for a week now, so another half an hour’s not going to make any difference, is it? They shouldn’t have all that nice stuff on show anyway round there – it’s practically an invite to the thieves, that is.
I get round to the old dear who’s been burgled a couple of hours later. I would have been there sooner, but I stopped some lippy Paki kid with a chip on his shoulder. I soon sorted him out with a couple of quick slaps – maybe he’ll not be so cocky next time I pull him over (I’m aiming to get into double figures with him this week, and he knows it, the gobby little wanker). He’d get loads more off the Police back home in Bangladesh or wherever him and his family come from, I can tell you. They don’t mess about, the cops in these third world backwaters. And I don’t hold with him bleating on about being English, never mind if he was born here. If he doesn’t like getting stopped on his way to work, he can always get back over there, can’t he?
Anyway, when I get round to the burglary, the old dear hasn’t even bothered to tidy up. I ask you, what does she think we’re actually going to do for her? I’m not hanging round waiting for Scenes of Crime, so I tell her she can clean up, and then she starts bleating about there being fingerprints and blood all over the kitchen window and tiles, and footprints on the sink and the lino. And apparently, she’s “seen it on TV”, where they can find out who it was from stuff like this. She’ll probably only lie to the insurance company about what she’s had nicked. I shout up on the radio for Scenes of Crime, but they say they’re going to be at least another couple of hours, so I leave the old dear with it. The miserable old cow didn’t even offer to make me a brew, all she kept whingeing on about was “My Albert’s medals”. I tell her she should be able to get some more off e-Bay, but she just gives me a blank look, so I tell her to have a look round the second hand shops instead. She had the nerve to ask me whether that was something that I should be doing. I put her straight on that one.
Anyway, I’ve had enough for today, so it’s back to the nick and an early finish. I can’t be arsed hanging about, so it’s lights and sirens all the way there. Still no spaces, so it’s double yellows again. I’m just going in through the back yard, when I see a gobby little chav off the estate who flicked the Vs at me last week. I was on CCTV at the time, so I let it ride just then. Sure, there’s CCTV in the yard, but you’ve got to know where the blind spots are. Put it this way, that gobby little chav won’t be flicking the Vs with that hand for a few weeks, not till his fingers get out of plaster anyway. That’ll teach him to “resist arrest”. And the look on that probationer’s face was priceless! Looks like another social worker we’ve recruited!
And the rest of the jobs I got sent to (which I never even bothered with) I’ve just written off as “no crime” or not a Police matter. We can’t spend our entire time running round after these idiots who can’t sort stuff out for themselves. And think of the tax payer’s money I’ve saved by not bothering with all this “multi agency” rubbish they’re always spouting on about.
Right, across the road to the pub for a few beers, then I think I’ll use the firm’s car again to get home. It’s always better when someone else pays for the petrol…
Edited by Dibble on Tuesday 14th November 17:03
Plotloss said:
10/10 for creative writing
1/10 for point clarity.
1/10 for point clarity.
It was my knee jerk reaction to the "Speed camera test crash" where a few posters seem to think that (without knowing the full facts) because the Police were involved in the collision, it must be their fault, and if it was, it'll only get covered up anyway...
That, plus the usual round of "police do nothing when I got burgled"...
And you're a very fast reader!
Edited by Dibble on Tuesday 14th November 17:03
AT LAST WE HAVE PROOF! 
Dibble said:
Plotloss said:
10/10 for creative writing
1/10 for point clarity.
1/10 for point clarity.
It was my knee jerk reaction to the "Speed camera test crash" where a few posters seem to think that (without knowing the full facts) because the Police were involved in the collision, it must be their fault, and if it was, it'll only get covered up anyway...
That, plus the usual round of "police do nothing when I got burgled"...
And you're a very fast reader!
Edited by Dibble on Tuesday 14th November 17:03
I would just like to stress,(about the aforementioned thread), that I have stated that: the police officer concerned must be feeling awful, as anybody would in the circumstances; that it was a tradgedy for ALL concerned; that I do not blame any of the drivers concerned, it was after all an accident; and that, as I know that road VERY well, there but for the grace of god go I.
It is because that I know that road as well as I do that I would question the decision to use it for training of this nature, I doubt that the decision to do this would have been made by the officers concerned, but that can only be speculation on my part. My condolences go out to the family of the deceased, AND the injured police officer.
And just in case you are wondering, we were woken up at 5am one morning 3 weeks ago by a burglar half way up our stairs. He scarpered, (thank god), and the police were on the scene within five minutes, and handled our immediate concerns very well.
You quite rightly get upset when we, (joe public), tar you all with the same brush. DON'T TREAT US IN THE SAME WAY!
Have read your post, very funny, I think you should submit it to the script writers for "The Bill". You've missed your calling.
Dibble. I read your post. You are ideal for CID. Listen we are doing a bank job on friday and when we leave we are going to throw some drunk in the door and give him a shooter and a mask. You sound as if you are up for a laugh. If you want a monkey see me in the yard beside the smokers at 4. Wink wink.
remember not a word to anybody.
Ive got the journalist in my pocket so we should be ok.
remember not a word to anybody.
Ive got the journalist in my pocket so we should be ok.
Dibble said:
That, plus the usual round of "police do nothing when I got burgled"...
I hope that comment isn't aimed at one of my recent posts.
I don't do "bib-bashing" as it is pointless and counter-productive, but I have been known to state facts.
Maybe I'll get broken into again some day, and the police will have a chance to attend on the same actual day that the crime was committed.
I should touch wood really (no-jokes), as considering how little was done on previous occurances it's probably quite likely.
Mr_annie_vxr said:
I have me own set of 'nostrils' in my 'kit' bag ( you know the one I carry to plant stuff on people). Can I get in on that?
How did you find out about the job..????
Dho I just posted it on the net....Agggggggghhhhhhhhh
Plan foiled.....
Right coffee doughnuts at Fat Sams garage for plan B
sultanbrown said:
Dibble said:
That, plus the usual round of "police do nothing when I got burgled"...
I hope that comment isn't aimed at one of my recent posts.
I don't do "bib-bashing" as it is pointless and counter-productive, but I have been known to state facts.
Maybe I'll get broken into again some day, and the police will have a chance to attend on the same actual day that the crime was committed.
I should touch wood really (no-jokes), as considering how little was done on previous occurances it's probably quite likely.
Have you made an official complaint about this? How recently was the burglary? Where are you in the country? Maybe there just are not enough police full stop? If thats the case perhaps your criticism should be aimed elsewhere?
There are a host of factors involved in call grading and then allocation many of which are outside the forces control.
gently bentley said:
Mr_annie_vxr said:
I have me own set of 'nostrils' in my 'kit' bag ( you know the one I carry to plant stuff on people). Can I get in on that?
How did you find out about the job..????
Dho I just posted it on the net....Agggggggghhhhhhhhh
Plan foiled.....
Right coffee doughnuts at Fat Sams garage for plan B
Does that have anything to do with our breaking into cars in the street and lifting them??
e? Mr_annie_vxr said:
Have you made an official complaint about this? How recently was the burglary? Where are you in the country? Maybe there just are not enough police full stop? If thats the case perhaps your criticism should be aimed elsewhere?
There are a host of factors involved in call grading and then allocation many of which are outside the forces control.
I'm in Cambridgeshire, and the occasions I referred to are in differing properties but all local to each other.
I totally agree with all the points you raise, hence why I have never complained and have no axe to grind with the po'.
I would however be a little miffed if the aforementioned quote by Mr Dibble had anything to do with another post I made in which my main point was to let the OP know how lucky he was to regain his/his families stolen possessions and remarked upon my own, relevent experiences.
Edited by sultanbrown on Tuesday 14th November 19:12
Mr_annie_vxr said:
gently bentley said:
Mr_annie_vxr said:
I have me own set of 'nostrils' in my 'kit' bag ( you know the one I carry to plant stuff on people). Can I get in on that?
How did you find out about the job..????
Dho I just posted it on the net....Agggggggghhhhhhhhh
Plan foiled.....
Right coffee doughnuts at Fat Sams garage for plan B
Does that have anything to do with our breaking into cars in the street and lifting them??
Sshhhh!
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