A New Commissioner Means Dick

A new Police Commissioner has been appointed in London. Her name, Cressida Dick. The first woman to lead the Metropolitan Police. She led the re-investigation into the murder of Stephen Lawrence and did a damned good job of it by all accounts.

That's all very nice, but what does it mean to the officers on the ground?

Diddly squat. That's what.

It makes zero difference to the boys and girls who are rushing around and desperately holding onto London's sanity by their fingernails. In fact, if it hadn't been plastered all over the news, I wouldn't even have known we had a new Commissioner. I do remember that when Sir Hogan Howe took over the role he replaced a lot of the antiquated computers that simply didn't work. After that, nothing.

That isn't to say the Commissioner isn't doing anything useful. I'm sure they are. It just isn't noticeable from where I am sitting. To me it appears that the role of Commissioner has become a blur between that of a politician and a representative that goes to events to shake peoples' hands and tell them how well we are doing, but promising them we'll improve.

The face of The Met. An expensive face of The Met, at around £250,000 a year.

Sir Hogan Howe would publish a weekly diary of his activities to officers online. I always thought it sounded like that of an excited child that had been invited to a variety of VIP events. I am genuinely convinced he did a lot of good, and that Ma'am Dick will too, but whether or not they will help me or my colleagues in any way whatsoever is very unlikely.

Sir Hogan Howe arrested someone last year and the media went bananas. That same day Anonymous Bobby arrested two shoplifters and didn't even get a mention in the local newspaper. But then again, perhaps my face wasn't deemed as nice as that of Sir Bernard.

Anonymous Bobby