Monthly Archive for September, 2006

written by PC Plod from plod blog

I joined the job because people preying on others really pisses me off. Thieving, violence, and generally taking the piss out of law-abiding citizens makes my blood boil. I'm quite happy to do everything in my power to make things as difficult as possible for those who don't play by the rules. I derive a huge amount of job satisfaction from putting drug dealers behind bars, even if it's for minor offences not related to their dealing. What small amount of pity I feel for the handcuffed 14 year old shoplifter bawling her eyes out as I escort her to my waiting patrol car evaporates as I look through her PNC record at all her other offences.

Many of my colleagues have a little chuckle when they read of a minor assault on a traffic warden. Whilst I can understand the sentiment (who actually likes them?), I couldn't really condone violence against them. Clampers however...

I have this job at the moment. A rather simple clamping firm employee decided to steal a very large amount of money in a totally traceable, incredibly obvious manner. He's clearly the bluntest tool in the box, given the thousands he tried to nick electronically using the company credit card machine and his own account. So a rather large paper trail lands on my desk, bundled up in a case file.

Naturally there is a victim here, so I should be willing to bring the full force of the law down on the miscreant in question. I am, but at the same time I have to confess to a fair degree of enjoyment in the knowledge that I'm about to stick it to a wheel clamper. What's more, I'm really hoping the proceeds of the crime have now been frittered away and that the clamping company will go under as a result. Why? because I hate clampers, they're barely legal thieves, and I think we should follow Scotland's example and outlaw private clamping operations as extortion. Even with SIA registration they are to a man a bunch of nasty thugs. F*** 'em all I say!

The original post can be found http://plod-blog.blogspot.com/2006/09/they-deserve-eachother_29.html

written by PC Plod from plod blog

A funny thing happened the other day. I was sitting in a patrol car at some traffic lights with my tutor, and a car pulled alongside. My tutor gave the driver a sideways glance, and then did a double-take. The driver was nicked for driving whilst disqualified and no insurance a year back, and then a year before that for the same offence - each time by my tutor.

'Excellent!' I think as the blues go on and the suspect pulls over. I get really annoyed by people driving without licence/insurance/MOT/RFL or whilst drunk/high/disqualified. He got a few months last time, he's a persistent offender, how dare he take the piss on my doorstep. 'This should be a good result!'.

So we get him out, have a word, and he pulls a provisional licence out. No 'L' plates on the vehicle, his missus in the passenger seat. The DVLA say disqual. until test passed. The missus says she has an international drivers permit and a UK provisional. She says she's lived here for years. I nick him. He's upset, protests he can drive, claims he's insured, his other half can supervise, his kids are in the back - I just want to get him back to the nick.

I book him in, in interview he's convinced he is able to drive legitimately. He's got his test booked next week, already done his theory. All the documents are in order, he can produce them at his home. We bail him to seek advice and see the docs. At his place all is in order, it seems. He and his wife are very pleasant, it really does appear that he's trying to do the right thing now. His wife is heavily pregnant, and as we leave I feel a lot of sympathy for them both, as does my tutor.

There's still a couple of sticking points though. First, he had no 'L' plates, second, his wife is driving on an old foreign licence - you're only allowed to use those for one year from when you settle in the UK - and third, how the hell did these people get insurance with his record and neither of them having a full UK licence?

We speak to a traffic sergeant, and rather unusually his eyes light up. The missus as a supervisor is a red herring - no L plates means he's guilty of the offence. We're chuffed. Well, actually, we're not. Over refs we discuss the benefits of sending this guy down (as will undoubtedly happen if convicted). We agree to sleep on it - neither of our consciences are settled. Surely it's a bit harsh to get this guy sent down for forgetting to put 'L' plates on? A simple oversight, surely. After all, he only got his provisional a few weeks ago, and it's the first UK licence he's held.

On the next shift, we call his insurance company. And my sympathy evaporates. They've not got a scooby about his convictions, or the fact neither of them have full licences. They cancel the policy on the spot. We run the circs by our sarge and get the nod to charge. The lying git is back in to answer bail next week. I can't wait...

The original post can be found http://plod-blog.blogspot.com/2006/09/sympathy-for-devil.html

written by Vic Mackey from Black Rover

It was just like a scene from police, camera, action.

There I am on another ANPR op (I do admit I am loving the ANPR, gets quite a range of work) and I'm with another special doing some spotting when a MOP tells us that a van has been broken into a few yards down the road, so we take a wander and sure enough a van with a smashed side window and the ignition had been tampered with. So we've had a look round the van the my collegue is doing the vehicle checks while I'm just chatting in general with the sergeant when theres a sudden screach of brakes and WALLOP! a car comes flying over from the other side of the road straight into the van we're checking out.

Luckily noone was injured but the poor van driver will be coming back to find a smashed window one side and a loverly dented wing on the other.

On another more sinister subject I was speaking to one of my police staff collegues today who also works as a special in the same station I'm in (attested after me). He was on a duty last night after the ANPR with the special inspector and a few other specials. He found himself put on a road closure by himself with a non functioning radio and ended up being surrounded by a hostile crowd of residents unhappy about the road closure. I am so glad my transfer is going through as it is another prime example of why I dont want to work here anymore. Surely an inspector should know better than putting a new special on his own without a radio when he doesnt even hve independant patrol status.

As I said though my transfers going through, its been authorised by the inspector now so I should be moving very soon and hopefully a load more blog enteries as I start enjoying going out again ;)

The original post can be found http://black-rover.blogspot.com/2006/09/it-was-just-like-scene-from-police.html

written by The general from Intelligence Detective.

Now I know that none of you know me, but I am usually a happy-go-lucky kind of kid. I can roll with the punches with the best of them and I class change as a friend of mine, but just lately, I feel a bit grumpy.

Well, not just a bit grumpy, a lot grumpy.

Usually when I'm grumpy, I soul-search and attribute my grumpiness to the following categories:

1. I'm tired.
2. I'm hungry.
3. I haven't had much sex lately.
4. People are treating me like a chimp at work.
5. All of the above.

1-3 are only short-term problems which usually require only a small amount of effort to address. 5 turns me into the Incredible Hulk.

4 is the snag. 4 makes me grumpy.

I woke up in my sleep the other night at about half two, sweating, having had a dream that my boss cut the tongue out of my head in a meeting in front of everyone who just stood there looking at me going "ooh, that must've hurt..." Claret was gushing out of my dish and nobody helped me. It was a sign.

I came to work and opened up my computer to find that I had inherited even more crimes to investigate than I had the day before when I specifically said that I could not physically cope with any more work. I have so many enquiries on the go at the moment, I am running out of brain space to take on the next one. I am on the crew that delivers performance, day in, day out, so I am heavily relied upon by those above to provide the results that they can then claim as their own and bathe in the glory thereof. But I understand my position. I work hard. I play hard.

I decided to close my computer back down and say " fuck it.I'm not going to phone any victims today, they can bite me. And I'm not investigating one more thing until some fucker starts listening to me.."

I turned to my good mate and partner, who, for the sake of this blog shall forever be known as Juice boy on account of his penchant for always drinking juice.

" Fuck this juice boy, I'm vexed. We can't sustain this pressure any longer, we've got to go and talk to our skipper"
"want me to book you in to Flint House General?"
" Thanks a lot Juice boy. I'll remember to kick you in the plums next time your'e down"
" Least I've got some plums and not marlies..."
" I mean it Juice boy, this is shit. We need help. Human help too, not computers, new chairs or some new forms to complete"
" there are no more humans to help us, they are all off whith stress General.."
" Right, thats it juice boy, I'm going to smash your head off the desk if you don't make me a brew..."
" You should try juice, it's good for you."

The next thing I knew, we have a prisoner to deal with. I walked down the block and met this kid who had just been pulled from his bed and brought in. It is 0812hrs.
" Hello kid. I'm General. I'll be spending the morning with you. You want a hot drink?"
"no. I need to smoke some draw."
" It's ten past eight in the morning.How many sugars you want in your tea?"
" five."
" are you serious? You will have no teeth left, no way am I being held responsible for your dental decay"
" OK. Four and a half then."
" Juice boy...can you make this kid a drink, I'm off to find a sword to throw myself on"
" you should try juice mate...much better for you than tea..."

My DS is a top man and that is fact. He is a good friend to me which is usually the way with DC's and their DS. I would take a bullet for him, that is how much I admire him. So being the good friend and line manager that he is, I let him have it with both barrels later that day.

My DS shall be known for the purpose of this post as "wise bloke" on account of his wisdom of course.

" wise bloke, I am unhappy. I have been telling you for some time now that we have too much work. I told you that I could not take on any more crime and that my brain is poorly. I asked for some help. I wanted some acknowledgement that the cavalry were coming after some well earned R and R. You said it was on the way. You have let me down. I am getting more and more emails from the bosses about performance and the end of year target. But you are setting us up to fail. They are leading from behind. not from the front. They say we are crap instead of showing us the way. And now you take one of the lads off our crew and put them onto the other team? The maths doesn't add up. You need to CONTRIBUTE to the team to get success, NOT REMOVE!"
" General...You are a great detective and a real asset to our division"

" stop blowing smoke up my ass, it won't work"
" You are doing a fantastic job under really difficult conditions. You must take some credit for that...
" look wise bloke, fuck the stuff about how well I am doing, what is being done about the 'difficult conditions'? It is this that needs addressing, not saying well done General you are trying really hard but it is still shit."
" My friend General. It concerns me that one of the Wayne Rooneys of my team has just stood and knocked on the managers door and said 'boss I ain't happy at United"
" Fuckin get some human beings in to help us then wise bloke. And not some thick fuckers either. Someone with a fuckin brain in their skull would help. Sorry for shouting but at the end of the year when our crew hasn't reached the target then it will be " general, why didn't YOU get the target?""
" I do understand General but we won't be getting any more humans. You are it. Fuck them. Let the wheel fall off. Maybe they will set some achievable targets next year without putting half the division off sick with stress"
" They can stick their job up their arse. If they can find any other person who can do the job better than us then they can have my job and I will fuck off somewhere else, I don't give a fuck."
" Now that would be a real loss. I don't want you to do that. I don't want you to do anything other than what you are already doing, very very well. I will bugle the cavalry personally and have them releive you in your trench, my comrade."
" you're a knob you are sarge."
" Now get out of my office before I start to cry. And get me a cup of tea before I tell the team what a moaning twat you are."

I came home that day after another 13-hour shift and did what I normally do when I am grumpy. I shouted at my girlfriend. Then apologised for being a complete tool. Then went to bed.

I woke up the next day feeling brighter. I had had the opportunity to speak with another wise man before I went to bed. For the sake of this blog he shall forever be known as dad, on account of his sperm which made me.

Dad said, " son. you have created a problem within yourself which you needn't have. Do not concentrate on the unseen problem which is over the horizon, the 'end of the year target'. Concentrate on the problem of today and deal with that. That is what I expect of you and that is what all the law-abiding people expect of you. You cannot make a silk purse out of a pigs ear. Do not overburden yourself with the inefficiencies and ineptitude of others. Be your own man, make a difference to the good and give shit to the toe-rags and you will not go wrong, I promise you son."

"thanks dad. I love you you know?"
" I love you too son. Keep your chin up and stay safe."
" I will dad."

Strangely enough, I find that writing this stuff on this blog helps me to keep these things in perspective. I've not been grumpy since and I even sang a few tunes today.

The original post can be found http://intelligence-detective.blogspot.com/2006/09/general-grumpy-learns-to-smile-again.html

written by PC Plod from plod blog

Whilst at this recruitment event, I spoke to all manner of interesting people. Within the ten to twenty minutes I spent talking to each, I was able to get a grasp of who they were, and whether they seemed 'the right stuff'. So to speak.

We'd been briefed to give honest accounts of the Job, and if anything, to highlight the downsides. This is common sense, and what I'd been planning to do anyway. Under the old system, it was a regular occurance for new recruits to pitch up to HQ on the first day, get a frank talking-to from the inspector about the realities of the job and then it dawned on them that they'd have to work nights, shifts, have mean people try and hurt them etc. One account has a recruit leaving ten minutes into the job, immediately after the inspector's reality check.

Some of the applicants I spoke to were really clued up. They'd already sought out serving officers, had most of their questions answered, and were only there because attendance was compulsory in order to get the application pack. These people seemed solid, dependable types that I'd gladly have watching my back come closing time on the High Street.

Some of the applicants would have been entertaining, had they not been so serious. As it was I felt pity, and perhaps a little fear. I'm confident that the paper sift will weed out the teenager who was looking for action, preferably with the firearms unit as he'd 'thought hard about joining the military, but then decided against it as I don't want to get blown up or shot'. He seemed overly concerned about the consequences of a firearms officer shooting someone in error. He thought that routine arming of all officers was a good idea (despite the fact that the vast majority of actual police officers think it's a bad idea), and he left me with the impression that were one to actually issue a firearm to this individual (against all reasoning) he'd probably slot the first member of public to look at him funny.

One charming young lady with more facial piercings than I could count was passionate about cars, and fair play to her. I was right with her up until the point she confessed to being a 'right little girl racer' who 'loves driving really fast' and therefore thought a role in the traffic unit would be perfect. I didn't have the heart to tell her that joining the job would mean waving goodbye to the various spikes and loops poking out of her face, and that since I joined I feel I have to drive like Miss Daisy is my back seat passenger. Perhaps if she loses the metalwork for the interview and keeps schtum about her need for speed, I might just be seeing her around the nick in a year's time.

There were quite a few applicants who had just completed A levels or a degree. They mostly came across quite well, asked pertinent questions and seemed on the ball, however, I can't help feeling they on the whole lacked the life experience that seems to be a key part of being able to cope with the job. I wouldn't dream of generalising of course, and some of my colleagues are of a similar age and very capable. I know there's no way I'd have coped if I'd signed up in my teens or early twenties.

Next time I'm in the vicinity of the HR offices, I think I'll pop in and ask what percentage of applicants get through the papersift. I'd hazard a guess that the figure doesn't reach double digits.

The original post can be found http://plod-blog.blogspot.com/2006/09/scary-applicants.html