Tuesday, October 31, 2006
General finds his emotional side...
"Gen, you're gonna love this. You have an 11 year old to deal with down the block." says the uniform response skipper with a smile on his face.
"Youre having a giraffe aren't you? I don't deal with children. Isn't he below the age of criminal responsibility, DOLI INCAPAX or somethin?" I thought, baffling the sarge with some Latin might help...
"No you plum, 10 is the age of criminal responsibility.10 to 14 you have to test whether they know right from wrong Gen."
"Yes I know that sarge thankyou. So whats this little erbert done then?"
"Stole someones motorbike and has been ragging it around the estate since 6 this morning until he was found by the owner of it wheeling it into his grans garden"
"Fucking great" said I, just relishing the opportunity to open up the highly trained expensive box of whupass interrogation skills I am known to possess. Not.
"Sarge, I am dealing with the foetus we have in cell 4. Why is he banging his door? Does he have no respect?"
"No gen. He called one of the custody sarges a lanky wanker and one of the custody staff a fat ugly cow bitch"
"I'd like to introduce myself to him if I may sarge"
"Fill yer boots Gen, be my guest..."
Two and a half foot tall, blonde skinhead, overweight, adidas tracky on. The kid had one of those double set of lips like he had normal lips then this bigger sore set of lips on the top and bottom where he sucked them and they were red raw.
"Hey kid..why you bangin the door and pressin the buzzer? Whats up?"
"get me a drink."
"No manners?"
"I want a phonecall."
"Manners cost nothing"
"I'm fucking hungry"
"You should have been at home munching some Weetabix rather than stealing someones bike then"
"Fuck off..When am I going home?"
"After I've interviewed you. You have to sit in the truth chair to answer my questions"
"just get me a drink now"
"You have no manners young man"
"So?"
"What happened to your lips? You look like you are wearing your moms lipstick"
"My moms dead you idiot. Just because you look like Wayne Rooney..."
So I got him a drink, gave it him, he never said thanks.
I interviewed him, he denied the theft, but admitted the taking of it without consent. This kid was 11 and he absolutely knew what he was doing and that it was wrong. He smiled at me when he said "age is on my side isn't it officaaar?"
I didn't like this kid one bit. I wanted to hit him until he cried.
The emotion I used? PATIENCE.
Later that day, juice boy and I go to a burglars address in order to speak to him and make an arrangement for him to come in. It was Juice Boys shout, I was just backing him up.
He knocked the door and I saw a small boy come to the front window. The kid was about two. I looked into the window over his head and the place was in darkness, pitch black. The kid smiled at me. I mouthed the words "mommy or daddy?" as I raised my eyebrows and made my eyes wide and friendly.
After four or five minutes and more knocking, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. The front door opened and a rank looking smackhead stared at me with her black lifeless eyes. I could see the bed creases where she had been asleep or gouching. White spittle had collected around her mouth and her pupils were like pin pricks. She was high on heroin and I saw it immediately.
Juice Boy started with the chatter about the bloke we wanted to talk to. This conversation melted away as I saw the little two year old boy come round the doorway.
He had the bluest eyes of an angel. His hair was naturally curly but it was matted together in places and filthy dirty. Grime and dirt were visible on his face but streaked where he had cried tears and wiped them away. Lines of black grime were deposited in the creases in the skin on his little neck.
He had no clothes on other than a nappy. The nappy was filthy. It was fastened around his hips but it was so full of excrement and urine that it hung, swinging between his legs nearly touching the floor. The faeces were smeared around his inner thighs and as far up his little tummy as his tummy button. His feet looked like the feet of an old tramp. He hadn't been fed and I could see his ribs sticking out further than his tummy. He smiled at me so I smiled at him right back. We shared a little moment me and that kid.
Conversation over. Juice Boy was happy, message delivered. I gave the smackhead a stare just a little bit longer than normal as we walked away. She knew I didn't like something. She probably didn't know what the fuck it was though.
Back in the nick. Intel report and one phonecall. The kid removed that night under emergency protection powers. Not for the first time either, I found out later.
The emotion I used? HUMILITY.
Same day. Just after 2200hrs. Just taking my kit off, ready to book off, looking for my car keys. URGENT ASSISTANCE. I had heard the call come in about the man with the samurai sword. I heard the control room say send unarmed response officers to assess in the first instance. I heard the update about more persons turning up at the scene. Sounded like organised violence? I heard the first car time on. I heard the shout.
Me, kit on, stabbie on, fleece on. In the plain car but it shifts and I made some good ground. There in less than 2 minutes. Fuckin large crowd 60, 70, 80?, no...3 crowds...and onlookers...park up short...get eyes on...assess the threat...make some decisions...use force Gen you will be justified...my legs are shaking...the feeling is familiar...adrenaline is pumping...my body is working as it should...good. My mates and colleagues...are they okay...anyone hurt? Where's the sword? Breathe Gen...open your eyes and see.
Target acquisition time. I was at the flank of the first crowd. I locked eyes on a clever and experienced PC. Black country lad, no stranger to a bit of rough and tumble. He looked straight at me. Without speaking I nodded in the direction of the mouthy, cocky prick at the front of the first crowd. Big arm gestures, aggressive, angry motions, shouting, goading,inviting conflict and expecting trouble. Black country lad nodded back just the slightest nod of recognition, he knew what I was going to do. He stepped forward to get in their line of sight. I slowly approached the back of the crowd. He stepped forward to offer some violence to Black country lad but didn't bank on the General coming from the back and using a diversion tactic on him. Using my open hand, I slapped this youth straight round the right cheek from behind...so hard he never knew what hit him. Then smashed him forwards with my body and me and black country lad took him straight to ground pin, rear handcuff, double lock, straight into the van. Have that you little cocky shitheel. Crowd 3 didn't know what the fuck to do then but run off.
Right. Crowd 2. Black country lad and me were now wing men. We never said it to each other, but we just stayed together and backed each other up. We were now forged together because we had been in battle together. It is a strange feeling that. Customer number two. Gobby bloke, aged 40, offering violence to a woman after being told loads of times to shut the fuck up and calm down. Bang. Have that 40 year old bloke. Yes that was me punching you in the face, tripping you over and handcuffing you. Ably assisted by the cannister of CS incapacitant from the blonde WPC to my right. I even had time to look at her arse to see if it was any good in those horrid trousers they wear. It was actually. Number 2 for affray. Black country lad right by my side.
Right crowd 3. Watch the flanks of my mates as they are struggling on the floor with a group scrapping. The coppers are getting control. Watch their flanks. Baseball cap boy. Corner of my eye, to the right, running in. No weapons. Bang. Yes that was me smacking you in the face, bending you over a wall, finding the mandibular angle. Black country lad doing the same. Ground pin, rear cuff, double lock, car. number 3 for affray.
Right. anyone else want some? Chaos to control in minutes. Check the troops anyone hurt? Wheres the sword? Move through the crowd, dispersing, they are scared of us now but it was the other way round a few minutes ago. It could have been much, much worse and nobody got hurt on our side apart from some CS tears. "Fuck me General, you can come out on our bus anytime you like mate"
"You lot can't come on CID, you can't fight."
Emotion used= AGGRESSION and WISDOM
Not a bad days work all in all. Went home, nipper was in bed, Mrs Gen was asleep, so I had a can of Fosters and reflected on my day, standing in my kitchen alone. "I wonder if I would get the same variety of emotions all in one day doing any other job? I wonder if I would be any good at any other job? What could I do? What if I lost my job, I wonder how I would pay my mortgage and look after my beloved family?" I thought, as I climbed the big wooden hill to bed.
"Youre having a giraffe aren't you? I don't deal with children. Isn't he below the age of criminal responsibility, DOLI INCAPAX or somethin?" I thought, baffling the sarge with some Latin might help...
"No you plum, 10 is the age of criminal responsibility.10 to 14 you have to test whether they know right from wrong Gen."
"Yes I know that sarge thankyou. So whats this little erbert done then?"
"Stole someones motorbike and has been ragging it around the estate since 6 this morning until he was found by the owner of it wheeling it into his grans garden"
"Fucking great" said I, just relishing the opportunity to open up the highly trained expensive box of whupass interrogation skills I am known to possess. Not.
"Sarge, I am dealing with the foetus we have in cell 4. Why is he banging his door? Does he have no respect?"
"No gen. He called one of the custody sarges a lanky wanker and one of the custody staff a fat ugly cow bitch"
"I'd like to introduce myself to him if I may sarge"
"Fill yer boots Gen, be my guest..."
Two and a half foot tall, blonde skinhead, overweight, adidas tracky on. The kid had one of those double set of lips like he had normal lips then this bigger sore set of lips on the top and bottom where he sucked them and they were red raw.
"Hey kid..why you bangin the door and pressin the buzzer? Whats up?"
"get me a drink."
"No manners?"
"I want a phonecall."
"Manners cost nothing"
"I'm fucking hungry"
"You should have been at home munching some Weetabix rather than stealing someones bike then"
"Fuck off..When am I going home?"
"After I've interviewed you. You have to sit in the truth chair to answer my questions"
"just get me a drink now"
"You have no manners young man"
"So?"
"What happened to your lips? You look like you are wearing your moms lipstick"
"My moms dead you idiot. Just because you look like Wayne Rooney..."
So I got him a drink, gave it him, he never said thanks.
I interviewed him, he denied the theft, but admitted the taking of it without consent. This kid was 11 and he absolutely knew what he was doing and that it was wrong. He smiled at me when he said "age is on my side isn't it officaaar?"
I didn't like this kid one bit. I wanted to hit him until he cried.
The emotion I used? PATIENCE.
Later that day, juice boy and I go to a burglars address in order to speak to him and make an arrangement for him to come in. It was Juice Boys shout, I was just backing him up.
He knocked the door and I saw a small boy come to the front window. The kid was about two. I looked into the window over his head and the place was in darkness, pitch black. The kid smiled at me. I mouthed the words "mommy or daddy?" as I raised my eyebrows and made my eyes wide and friendly.
After four or five minutes and more knocking, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. The front door opened and a rank looking smackhead stared at me with her black lifeless eyes. I could see the bed creases where she had been asleep or gouching. White spittle had collected around her mouth and her pupils were like pin pricks. She was high on heroin and I saw it immediately.
Juice Boy started with the chatter about the bloke we wanted to talk to. This conversation melted away as I saw the little two year old boy come round the doorway.
He had the bluest eyes of an angel. His hair was naturally curly but it was matted together in places and filthy dirty. Grime and dirt were visible on his face but streaked where he had cried tears and wiped them away. Lines of black grime were deposited in the creases in the skin on his little neck.
He had no clothes on other than a nappy. The nappy was filthy. It was fastened around his hips but it was so full of excrement and urine that it hung, swinging between his legs nearly touching the floor. The faeces were smeared around his inner thighs and as far up his little tummy as his tummy button. His feet looked like the feet of an old tramp. He hadn't been fed and I could see his ribs sticking out further than his tummy. He smiled at me so I smiled at him right back. We shared a little moment me and that kid.
Conversation over. Juice Boy was happy, message delivered. I gave the smackhead a stare just a little bit longer than normal as we walked away. She knew I didn't like something. She probably didn't know what the fuck it was though.
Back in the nick. Intel report and one phonecall. The kid removed that night under emergency protection powers. Not for the first time either, I found out later.
The emotion I used? HUMILITY.
Same day. Just after 2200hrs. Just taking my kit off, ready to book off, looking for my car keys. URGENT ASSISTANCE. I had heard the call come in about the man with the samurai sword. I heard the control room say send unarmed response officers to assess in the first instance. I heard the update about more persons turning up at the scene. Sounded like organised violence? I heard the first car time on. I heard the shout.
Me, kit on, stabbie on, fleece on. In the plain car but it shifts and I made some good ground. There in less than 2 minutes. Fuckin large crowd 60, 70, 80?, no...3 crowds...and onlookers...park up short...get eyes on...assess the threat...make some decisions...use force Gen you will be justified...my legs are shaking...the feeling is familiar...adrenaline is pumping...my body is working as it should...good. My mates and colleagues...are they okay...anyone hurt? Where's the sword? Breathe Gen...open your eyes and see.
Target acquisition time. I was at the flank of the first crowd. I locked eyes on a clever and experienced PC. Black country lad, no stranger to a bit of rough and tumble. He looked straight at me. Without speaking I nodded in the direction of the mouthy, cocky prick at the front of the first crowd. Big arm gestures, aggressive, angry motions, shouting, goading,inviting conflict and expecting trouble. Black country lad nodded back just the slightest nod of recognition, he knew what I was going to do. He stepped forward to get in their line of sight. I slowly approached the back of the crowd. He stepped forward to offer some violence to Black country lad but didn't bank on the General coming from the back and using a diversion tactic on him. Using my open hand, I slapped this youth straight round the right cheek from behind...so hard he never knew what hit him. Then smashed him forwards with my body and me and black country lad took him straight to ground pin, rear handcuff, double lock, straight into the van. Have that you little cocky shitheel. Crowd 3 didn't know what the fuck to do then but run off.
Right. Crowd 2. Black country lad and me were now wing men. We never said it to each other, but we just stayed together and backed each other up. We were now forged together because we had been in battle together. It is a strange feeling that. Customer number two. Gobby bloke, aged 40, offering violence to a woman after being told loads of times to shut the fuck up and calm down. Bang. Have that 40 year old bloke. Yes that was me punching you in the face, tripping you over and handcuffing you. Ably assisted by the cannister of CS incapacitant from the blonde WPC to my right. I even had time to look at her arse to see if it was any good in those horrid trousers they wear. It was actually. Number 2 for affray. Black country lad right by my side.
Right crowd 3. Watch the flanks of my mates as they are struggling on the floor with a group scrapping. The coppers are getting control. Watch their flanks. Baseball cap boy. Corner of my eye, to the right, running in. No weapons. Bang. Yes that was me smacking you in the face, bending you over a wall, finding the mandibular angle. Black country lad doing the same. Ground pin, rear cuff, double lock, car. number 3 for affray.
Right. anyone else want some? Chaos to control in minutes. Check the troops anyone hurt? Wheres the sword? Move through the crowd, dispersing, they are scared of us now but it was the other way round a few minutes ago. It could have been much, much worse and nobody got hurt on our side apart from some CS tears. "Fuck me General, you can come out on our bus anytime you like mate"
"You lot can't come on CID, you can't fight."
Emotion used= AGGRESSION and WISDOM
Not a bad days work all in all. Went home, nipper was in bed, Mrs Gen was asleep, so I had a can of Fosters and reflected on my day, standing in my kitchen alone. "I wonder if I would get the same variety of emotions all in one day doing any other job? I wonder if I would be any good at any other job? What could I do? What if I lost my job, I wonder how I would pay my mortgage and look after my beloved family?" I thought, as I climbed the big wooden hill to bed.
Comments:
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How long to retirement, my friend?
Don't burn out.
For some 30 years I was doing a job not dissimilar to yours. Overall, I was satisfied that I was making that little difference to society; that kept me going. I hope that you always have that same satisfaction.
Best wishes.
Don't burn out.
For some 30 years I was doing a job not dissimilar to yours. Overall, I was satisfied that I was making that little difference to society; that kept me going. I hope that you always have that same satisfaction.
Best wishes.
14 long years to go my retired friend. Still enjoy most days. I've just got to keep the job that long!
Honest uncle and the plodster, I thank you for your support.
Good day people. Talk later?
Honest uncle and the plodster, I thank you for your support.
Good day people. Talk later?
Good day's work, General.
Wish more cops were able to follow the commonsense approach you display.
Keep it up!
Wish more cops were able to follow the commonsense approach you display.
Keep it up!
# posted by 
: 11:18 am
: 11:18 am
Gen, that's what I admire, people like you who are not scared to get their knees scraped and their kit dirty. Get out there and feel the adrenaline pumping right through!
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