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
Showing posts with label police blog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label police blog. Show all posts
Monday, February 27, 2017
Friday, February 24, 2017
The Factory Next Door
Cannabis factories are everywhere. Literally everywhere. This has been shown in the last couple of weeks with a discovery of a cannabis factory in Legoland (Legoland for Christ's sake!) and another in an abandoned nuclear bunker.
Obviously it wasn't a new attraction that Legoland were trialing, it was a remote outhouse on their land, but it was there all the same.
More often than not, however, cannabis factories are found in normal suburban homes. Tending to be more prevalent in either council, housing association or privately rented houses which have been acquired using fake or stolen identities. Sometimes the details of the vulnerable are used to acquire the properties. The electricity will be bypassed to hide the excessive usage. Usually in a rather dangerous manner I might add. These properties are very much in demand by regular families at a time where housing is at such a great shortage in London. Instead they are used to grow cannabis.
Criminal gangs are said to make about £250,000 from each of the small suburban factories a year. And they have plenty of them. It is accepted that one by one they will be discovered, so new ones are constantly popping up to make up for any loss. Due to the high profits made, the loss of a single harvest and all the equipment involved is insignificant.
I've discovered many of these myself. Normally the door is forced and you will hear a frantic scurry from inside. Upon entry you will find a rear window open and a poor fellow darting away across the rear gardens. Occasionally you find these people asleep or simply waiting for police in amongst the plants. These guys are not the criminal masterminds. They are usually vulnerable people, or persons whom have entered the country illegally. In return for a place to stay and a pitiful wage they are paid to take care of the plants by the gangs.
Occasionally somebody will set up a mini cannabis factory in their own residence in order to supplement their income or feed their own habit. Twice (TWICE!) I have attended addresses where the occupant has wished to make some sort of allegation. They have called police to their home themselves! A quick whiff inside and an experienced copper knows exactly what is behind one of those shut bedroom doors. So twice I have been called by somebody to help them with something only to end up arresting them for cultivating cannabis. As I hinted at earlier, these people are not always criminal masterminds.
I've spoken before about the problems with relatively harmless drugs such as cannabis being illegal. These factories are everywhere, and even in the most surprising of places (for example Legoland). They are filling the coffers of criminal gangs with millions and millions of pounds every year and I hasten to guess that their profits aren't being donated to Cancer Research.
For every cannabis factory police find and shut down, another two pop up. So, the question remains, are you living next door to a factory?
Anonymous Bobby
Obviously it wasn't a new attraction that Legoland were trialing, it was a remote outhouse on their land, but it was there all the same.
More often than not, however, cannabis factories are found in normal suburban homes. Tending to be more prevalent in either council, housing association or privately rented houses which have been acquired using fake or stolen identities. Sometimes the details of the vulnerable are used to acquire the properties. The electricity will be bypassed to hide the excessive usage. Usually in a rather dangerous manner I might add. These properties are very much in demand by regular families at a time where housing is at such a great shortage in London. Instead they are used to grow cannabis.
Criminal gangs are said to make about £250,000 from each of the small suburban factories a year. And they have plenty of them. It is accepted that one by one they will be discovered, so new ones are constantly popping up to make up for any loss. Due to the high profits made, the loss of a single harvest and all the equipment involved is insignificant.
I've discovered many of these myself. Normally the door is forced and you will hear a frantic scurry from inside. Upon entry you will find a rear window open and a poor fellow darting away across the rear gardens. Occasionally you find these people asleep or simply waiting for police in amongst the plants. These guys are not the criminal masterminds. They are usually vulnerable people, or persons whom have entered the country illegally. In return for a place to stay and a pitiful wage they are paid to take care of the plants by the gangs.
Occasionally somebody will set up a mini cannabis factory in their own residence in order to supplement their income or feed their own habit. Twice (TWICE!) I have attended addresses where the occupant has wished to make some sort of allegation. They have called police to their home themselves! A quick whiff inside and an experienced copper knows exactly what is behind one of those shut bedroom doors. So twice I have been called by somebody to help them with something only to end up arresting them for cultivating cannabis. As I hinted at earlier, these people are not always criminal masterminds.
I've spoken before about the problems with relatively harmless drugs such as cannabis being illegal. These factories are everywhere, and even in the most surprising of places (for example Legoland). They are filling the coffers of criminal gangs with millions and millions of pounds every year and I hasten to guess that their profits aren't being donated to Cancer Research.
For every cannabis factory police find and shut down, another two pop up. So, the question remains, are you living next door to a factory?
Anonymous Bobby
Wednesday, February 22, 2017
Can A Copper Have A Cuppa?
On the BBC today was a story about two police officers who had stopped off to get a cup of tea on their way to a call. Unbeknownst to the officers a female was deceased and hanging at the address they were due to attend.
The call had come from a concerned friend who had received a suicidal message from the female in question. The call was originally directed to the ambulance service but was also passed to the police, most likely due to their ability to force entry into an address if required.
Police call handlers graded the call using normal the police triage. It was graded 'S'. This is the second highest grading a call can receive ('I' grade being the highest) and gives officers up to one hour to arrive on the scene. Whilst the limit is an hour, officers should arrive as soon as possible. ('I' grade calls have a 14 minute limit).
Lack of police officer numbers and recent cuts means that the officers out on the street, namely the response units, are almost always en route to one call or another. Whether its an 'I', 'S' or 'E' grade. ('E' grades have a 72 hour limit, they are unofficially known as "E-ventually" calls). That means that over a 10 hour day officers are constantly on their way to one call, diverted to another of higher grading, stopping at something they have come across direct such as a damage only road collision etc etc. Hardly ever are they 'On Patrol' - or free for whatever call comes out.
So this beggars the question, is it really that unreasonable that these two officers stopped to grab two cups of tea from Mcdonald's, which they probably drank whilst en route? For if officers only ever went to the toilet, had a drink, or ate whilst they were 'On Patrol' they would never do any of the beforementioned necessities.
Had PC Tony Stephenson and PC Gavin Bateman not stopped to pick up the two teas, the female would still have been dead in her home. She had died before the original call was made.
A 2 day hearing is due around the conduct of these two officers next week, costing God only knows how much. All because they dared to stop to get a cup of tea, before making the 'S' grade within the allotted one hour time slot. At a time when the public needs every police officer possible out on the street protecting them, this seems like a waste of everybody's time.
Police officers eat, drink, smoke, urinate and defecate just like everyone else. They are not entitled to any official break and often manage a constant flow of calls and people needing help by stopping and doing these things whilst en route to lesser graded calls such as the one in question.
An unprecedented attack on police officers on the street from within, the public and the media continues, and now it seems that despite the difficult work we do, we aren't even entitled to the most Englsih of constitutions, a simple cup of tea.
Anonymous Bobby
The call had come from a concerned friend who had received a suicidal message from the female in question. The call was originally directed to the ambulance service but was also passed to the police, most likely due to their ability to force entry into an address if required.
Police call handlers graded the call using normal the police triage. It was graded 'S'. This is the second highest grading a call can receive ('I' grade being the highest) and gives officers up to one hour to arrive on the scene. Whilst the limit is an hour, officers should arrive as soon as possible. ('I' grade calls have a 14 minute limit).
Lack of police officer numbers and recent cuts means that the officers out on the street, namely the response units, are almost always en route to one call or another. Whether its an 'I', 'S' or 'E' grade. ('E' grades have a 72 hour limit, they are unofficially known as "E-ventually" calls). That means that over a 10 hour day officers are constantly on their way to one call, diverted to another of higher grading, stopping at something they have come across direct such as a damage only road collision etc etc. Hardly ever are they 'On Patrol' - or free for whatever call comes out.
So this beggars the question, is it really that unreasonable that these two officers stopped to grab two cups of tea from Mcdonald's, which they probably drank whilst en route? For if officers only ever went to the toilet, had a drink, or ate whilst they were 'On Patrol' they would never do any of the beforementioned necessities.
Had PC Tony Stephenson and PC Gavin Bateman not stopped to pick up the two teas, the female would still have been dead in her home. She had died before the original call was made.
A 2 day hearing is due around the conduct of these two officers next week, costing God only knows how much. All because they dared to stop to get a cup of tea, before making the 'S' grade within the allotted one hour time slot. At a time when the public needs every police officer possible out on the street protecting them, this seems like a waste of everybody's time.
Police officers eat, drink, smoke, urinate and defecate just like everyone else. They are not entitled to any official break and often manage a constant flow of calls and people needing help by stopping and doing these things whilst en route to lesser graded calls such as the one in question.
An unprecedented attack on police officers on the street from within, the public and the media continues, and now it seems that despite the difficult work we do, we aren't even entitled to the most Englsih of constitutions, a simple cup of tea.
Anonymous Bobby
Tuesday, February 21, 2017
Anonymous Bobby and the Zombies
Police officers regularly kick peoples' doors in only to find them deceased inside. Sometimes they have been dead for a long time. I have detailed a few stories around this before.
But people aren't always as dead as you think they are.
Once, I was working with my colleague Ben when we attended such a call. Social Services had not seen their client for a few days and were concerned, there was no reply at her address and her neighbours hadn't seen her. (Note: It was Friday, rather than wait around to find out the result, social services just called the police, therefore passing on the responsibility, and went home).
Cue Anonymous Bobby and Ben. A few sharp kicks later and her front door lies in pieces on her floor. A putrid stench emanates from every room. It certainly smells like death in this flat.
I turn a corner and next to a fireplace, beside her bed, is the body of an old lady. Lying motionless, face down. It looks like she fell out of bed and died. She is utterly motionless. We begin the procedure we have gone through a thousand times. Suddenly a loud and sharp inhalation of breath from the female on the floor. Ben and I both fly 6 feet across the room in shock.
I'm always concerned that the Zombie apocalypse is just around the corner. Walk the streets of London at 5am on a Sunday morning and you will see what I mean. It's closer then you think! At that moment, when what we were convinced was a corpse came back to life, I thought the moment had finally come. Tasers went back into holsters and we calmed ourselves, knowing we would live to see another day.
The lady was alive but had been lying in her own juices for 3 days. We rendered her first aid and she survived and made a full recovery.
I expect the real zombie apocalypse any day now.
Anonymous Bobby
But people aren't always as dead as you think they are.
Once, I was working with my colleague Ben when we attended such a call. Social Services had not seen their client for a few days and were concerned, there was no reply at her address and her neighbours hadn't seen her. (Note: It was Friday, rather than wait around to find out the result, social services just called the police, therefore passing on the responsibility, and went home).
Cue Anonymous Bobby and Ben. A few sharp kicks later and her front door lies in pieces on her floor. A putrid stench emanates from every room. It certainly smells like death in this flat.
I turn a corner and next to a fireplace, beside her bed, is the body of an old lady. Lying motionless, face down. It looks like she fell out of bed and died. She is utterly motionless. We begin the procedure we have gone through a thousand times. Suddenly a loud and sharp inhalation of breath from the female on the floor. Ben and I both fly 6 feet across the room in shock.
I'm always concerned that the Zombie apocalypse is just around the corner. Walk the streets of London at 5am on a Sunday morning and you will see what I mean. It's closer then you think! At that moment, when what we were convinced was a corpse came back to life, I thought the moment had finally come. Tasers went back into holsters and we calmed ourselves, knowing we would live to see another day.
The lady was alive but had been lying in her own juices for 3 days. We rendered her first aid and she survived and made a full recovery.
I expect the real zombie apocalypse any day now.
Anonymous Bobby
Sunday, February 12, 2017
A Question of Morailty
We, as an organisation, don't always get it right. A lot of the time I see decisions made with all the best intentions, but decisions that are morally or practically wrong. Often these decisions have been made through no malice, and often due to a willingness to please the public.
An example of this was one winter a few years ago. I was working central in London and had been tasked by senior officers to escort a council team around London who were looking for the unattended possessions, mainly bedding, of the homeless and were disposing of them.
A police escort was deemed necessary to quell any resistance that these poor homeless people may put up.
Now this task was approved by senior officers, but I believe it is quite clearly wrong. To collect the few blankets and items that bring warmth to the most vulnerable is an awful action to sanction. During a particularly harsh winter night the loss of such items, unexpectedly, could even lead to death.
I have been unfortunate enough to find a deceased homeless person down an alley during one of our harsh London winters. It isn't pleasant, and it shouldn't happen. I'll never forget the look of his frozen corpse, clutching a Thermos. So, to go and remove blankets and such items where they have been stashed for the night time was an inconceivable mission.
The decision to take these immoral actions were probably prompted and authorised due to a select, noisy, selection of the public who found the sight of the homeless repulsive. In an attempt to please these inconsiderate people, morality had been forgotten and an attempt to merely sweep the most vulnerable in our society away had commenced.
This is an example of us getting something wrong. We should be helping, not hindering, our most vulnerable people. It is, however, also an example of making the wrong decisions for no other reason than blindly attempting to please the most vocal citizens.
Suffice to say, and rather inexplicably, I didn't manage to find ANY blankets or possessions of the homeless that day. Not one shred of material.
Anonymous Bobby
An example of this was one winter a few years ago. I was working central in London and had been tasked by senior officers to escort a council team around London who were looking for the unattended possessions, mainly bedding, of the homeless and were disposing of them.
A police escort was deemed necessary to quell any resistance that these poor homeless people may put up.
Now this task was approved by senior officers, but I believe it is quite clearly wrong. To collect the few blankets and items that bring warmth to the most vulnerable is an awful action to sanction. During a particularly harsh winter night the loss of such items, unexpectedly, could even lead to death.
I have been unfortunate enough to find a deceased homeless person down an alley during one of our harsh London winters. It isn't pleasant, and it shouldn't happen. I'll never forget the look of his frozen corpse, clutching a Thermos. So, to go and remove blankets and such items where they have been stashed for the night time was an inconceivable mission.
The decision to take these immoral actions were probably prompted and authorised due to a select, noisy, selection of the public who found the sight of the homeless repulsive. In an attempt to please these inconsiderate people, morality had been forgotten and an attempt to merely sweep the most vulnerable in our society away had commenced.
This is an example of us getting something wrong. We should be helping, not hindering, our most vulnerable people. It is, however, also an example of making the wrong decisions for no other reason than blindly attempting to please the most vocal citizens.
Suffice to say, and rather inexplicably, I didn't manage to find ANY blankets or possessions of the homeless that day. Not one shred of material.
Anonymous Bobby
Friday, February 10, 2017
Anonymous Bobby, the "Legend" and the Prostitute
Sunday mornings are a curious time on London's streets. The excesses of the previous night often spill over and those that do not know when to stop are regularly mopped up (necessarily so, in most cases) by police officers. If you enjoy a calm Sunday morning, listening to birdsong and reading the Telegraph, then do not become a police officer in London.
It was one such morning when a call came in to a young lad who had woken up to find a confused woman in his flat. This woman was disorientated and probably suffering some mental health or dependence issues. He originally called for an ambulance but due to the suspicious circumstances around the incident, the police were dispatched also. This is how I came to be involved.
Upon arrival at the address, a flat share with three bedrooms and three different tenants, I was greeted by a disheveled yet magnanimous fellow aged about 20 years old. I'm not one to place people in such categories, but I would describe him as somewhat 'posh'. Cockily he strutted up to my colleague and I. He went on to explain that he had been out drinking the night before and, although his memory was hazy, he believed he had possibly picked the female up on his way home. All suspicions, including his own, was that this female was a prostitute (Or a 'Tom' in police jargon).
He told the story as if he were speaking to his mates and he was proud of how 'out of it' he had been. It was all a funny story to share with his friends.
Indeed, his flatmates soon joined us in the living room of the flat and he cockily divulged himself in the story of what he described as "Lad antics" the night before.
Sick of this self-proclaimed "legend" I went to check the female was ok. She was on the ambulance having some routine checks. I hopped aboard and instantly my heart filled with glee. I knew this young lady. I had encountered her before. There was obviously one detail that our "legend" forgot from his romantic encounter.
With a new spring in my step I went back to the living room. I was looking forward to it already.
AB: "Right then, we'll overlook that we all suspect you to have picked up a prostitute last night as there isn't any concrete evidence to suggest what happened. She seems OK, the ambulance will take her wherever she needs to go. There is nothing further for police to do here so we are going to go."
I headed for the door. Without batting an eye the "legend" turned back to his friends and continued to relay the intimate acts of the night before to them, whilst in hysterics. Columbo-style, I turned at the front door.
AB: "Oh, just one more thing. That lady, isn't exactly a lady. She's a transgender prostitute. And she also has hepatitus C, so get yourself checked out. Good day".
The smugness leaked from his face as I turned and left him to swallow the new information. It remains one of the most satisfying moments I have experienced as a police officer.
Anonymous Bobby.
It was one such morning when a call came in to a young lad who had woken up to find a confused woman in his flat. This woman was disorientated and probably suffering some mental health or dependence issues. He originally called for an ambulance but due to the suspicious circumstances around the incident, the police were dispatched also. This is how I came to be involved.
Upon arrival at the address, a flat share with three bedrooms and three different tenants, I was greeted by a disheveled yet magnanimous fellow aged about 20 years old. I'm not one to place people in such categories, but I would describe him as somewhat 'posh'. Cockily he strutted up to my colleague and I. He went on to explain that he had been out drinking the night before and, although his memory was hazy, he believed he had possibly picked the female up on his way home. All suspicions, including his own, was that this female was a prostitute (Or a 'Tom' in police jargon).
He told the story as if he were speaking to his mates and he was proud of how 'out of it' he had been. It was all a funny story to share with his friends.
Indeed, his flatmates soon joined us in the living room of the flat and he cockily divulged himself in the story of what he described as "Lad antics" the night before.
Sick of this self-proclaimed "legend" I went to check the female was ok. She was on the ambulance having some routine checks. I hopped aboard and instantly my heart filled with glee. I knew this young lady. I had encountered her before. There was obviously one detail that our "legend" forgot from his romantic encounter.
With a new spring in my step I went back to the living room. I was looking forward to it already.
AB: "Right then, we'll overlook that we all suspect you to have picked up a prostitute last night as there isn't any concrete evidence to suggest what happened. She seems OK, the ambulance will take her wherever she needs to go. There is nothing further for police to do here so we are going to go."
I headed for the door. Without batting an eye the "legend" turned back to his friends and continued to relay the intimate acts of the night before to them, whilst in hysterics. Columbo-style, I turned at the front door.
AB: "Oh, just one more thing. That lady, isn't exactly a lady. She's a transgender prostitute. And she also has hepatitus C, so get yourself checked out. Good day".
The smugness leaked from his face as I turned and left him to swallow the new information. It remains one of the most satisfying moments I have experienced as a police officer.
Anonymous Bobby.
Sunday, February 5, 2017
Anonymous Bobby and Domestic Incidents
Ask any police officer and they will tell you, we deal with a LOT of domestic incidents.
Sometimes things get out of hand, and we are called. We all argue with our loved ones and sometimes things can get a bit ridiculous. However, there does appear to be a lot of people incapable of holding a relationship without constant police assistance.
The nature of domestics means that any domestic related incident leads to a report taking up valuable police time. I've personally been to a domestic whereby the husband has called us because his wife has hidden his Xbox and he wanted to play with it. The compulsory paperwork that follows takes around 30 minutes. The majority of the time, it is people as pathetic as the example I have just outlined calling us.
I always tell people, if police are frequently being called to you and your partner, perhaps it isn't working. This seems like ridiculous and alien advice to some people.
One incident I'll always remember was a French couple. The wife had called us as her husband was angry and throwing things around their home. Unfortunately neither spoke a word of English so we were trying to communicate through an interpreter over the phone. Suddenly the husband attacks. With vengeance in his eyes he lunges at myself and my colleague. We roll around on the floor with him to get him restrained. Meanwhile his wife has armed herself with a handbag and is swinging it viciously at my colleague and I. In the background a rather bewildered interpreter could be heard on the phone asking if we needed his assistance any further. All good fun and a comical scene to reflect on, except that the couple had children and they were distraught.
If I had a pound for every person who had called police to get their partner removed from their home, only to let them back in the next day and call us again, I would be rich enough to never don that foresaken uniform ever again.
Reflecting on the man and his Xbox, another call I once went to comes to mind. A neighbour had called us to a loud disturbance in the flat opposite her own. Upon our arrival, sure enough, hysterical shouting and crashing could be heard inside. A loud bang on the door from us and the flat fell silent. Footsteps gingerly approached the front door from inside and it opened. A young chap wearing a headset poked his head around the door, looking bemused. As it turned out he had been rigorously defending a fortification on Call of Duty on his Xbox and had probably got a little carried away with his role.
It's not really a laughing matter, though. I've also seen domestics that have led to murder, rape, serious assaults and abuse. Understandable then that a bloke taking Call of Duty so seriously is actually appreciated as a little light relief.
Anonymous Bobby
Sometimes things get out of hand, and we are called. We all argue with our loved ones and sometimes things can get a bit ridiculous. However, there does appear to be a lot of people incapable of holding a relationship without constant police assistance.
The nature of domestics means that any domestic related incident leads to a report taking up valuable police time. I've personally been to a domestic whereby the husband has called us because his wife has hidden his Xbox and he wanted to play with it. The compulsory paperwork that follows takes around 30 minutes. The majority of the time, it is people as pathetic as the example I have just outlined calling us.
I always tell people, if police are frequently being called to you and your partner, perhaps it isn't working. This seems like ridiculous and alien advice to some people.
One incident I'll always remember was a French couple. The wife had called us as her husband was angry and throwing things around their home. Unfortunately neither spoke a word of English so we were trying to communicate through an interpreter over the phone. Suddenly the husband attacks. With vengeance in his eyes he lunges at myself and my colleague. We roll around on the floor with him to get him restrained. Meanwhile his wife has armed herself with a handbag and is swinging it viciously at my colleague and I. In the background a rather bewildered interpreter could be heard on the phone asking if we needed his assistance any further. All good fun and a comical scene to reflect on, except that the couple had children and they were distraught.
If I had a pound for every person who had called police to get their partner removed from their home, only to let them back in the next day and call us again, I would be rich enough to never don that foresaken uniform ever again.
Reflecting on the man and his Xbox, another call I once went to comes to mind. A neighbour had called us to a loud disturbance in the flat opposite her own. Upon our arrival, sure enough, hysterical shouting and crashing could be heard inside. A loud bang on the door from us and the flat fell silent. Footsteps gingerly approached the front door from inside and it opened. A young chap wearing a headset poked his head around the door, looking bemused. As it turned out he had been rigorously defending a fortification on Call of Duty on his Xbox and had probably got a little carried away with his role.
It's not really a laughing matter, though. I've also seen domestics that have led to murder, rape, serious assaults and abuse. Understandable then that a bloke taking Call of Duty so seriously is actually appreciated as a little light relief.
Anonymous Bobby
Thursday, February 2, 2017
Anonymous Bobby and the Naked Man
Being a police officer in London one is regularly surprised with how many people one encounters entirely in the buff. It really is more common than you would ever believe.
It was a brisk Sunday morning, approaching 0730 hours and I was on patrol with David (the same David I was working with in 'The Swinging Man' blog). The birds were singing away and David and I were discussing what to get for breakfast. The radio, rather rudely in my opinion, interrupted us and informed us that an elderly lady had called stating there was a naked man stood outside her house. David and I gave each other a knowing look and accepted the call.
Minutes later we were pulling into the quiet cul-de-sac. Sure enough a young man, probably aged about 25 years, was stood outside a detached bungalow, completely naked, and standing in a pose as if he were a footballer in a defensive wall, defending a free kick.
I exited the vehicle and approached. "You alright mate?" I asked. "Do I look alright?" he retorted. He had me there. It was a stupid question, but how does one engage with a male stood stark bollock naked on a fine morning in suburban London?
David and I were hesitant with him. The circumstances would suggest he was having a mental health breakdown. As I approached I saw that he had several large burns on his body. I could make out the exact pattern of the heat pad of an iron on his skin. This told me everything I needed to know in an instant. He had been kidnapped, held against his will and tortured. Most likely for information, money or recrimination.
The old lady who had called us brought out a blanket and wrapped it around the poor chap and we took him to hospital. As it turned out, and unsurprisingly, he was not particularly fond of the police and did not want to enthrall us with the tale of his undoing. He was incredibly well known to police and known to associate with violent gangs. He had been kidnapped from another part of London the previous night by a rival gang.
There isn't too much you can do but record an incident like that, without any cooperation and not knowing the full circumstances of what has occurred.
What was worse was that David and I had completely gone off the idea of breakfast.
Anonymous Bobby
It was a brisk Sunday morning, approaching 0730 hours and I was on patrol with David (the same David I was working with in 'The Swinging Man' blog). The birds were singing away and David and I were discussing what to get for breakfast. The radio, rather rudely in my opinion, interrupted us and informed us that an elderly lady had called stating there was a naked man stood outside her house. David and I gave each other a knowing look and accepted the call.
Minutes later we were pulling into the quiet cul-de-sac. Sure enough a young man, probably aged about 25 years, was stood outside a detached bungalow, completely naked, and standing in a pose as if he were a footballer in a defensive wall, defending a free kick.
I exited the vehicle and approached. "You alright mate?" I asked. "Do I look alright?" he retorted. He had me there. It was a stupid question, but how does one engage with a male stood stark bollock naked on a fine morning in suburban London?
David and I were hesitant with him. The circumstances would suggest he was having a mental health breakdown. As I approached I saw that he had several large burns on his body. I could make out the exact pattern of the heat pad of an iron on his skin. This told me everything I needed to know in an instant. He had been kidnapped, held against his will and tortured. Most likely for information, money or recrimination.
The old lady who had called us brought out a blanket and wrapped it around the poor chap and we took him to hospital. As it turned out, and unsurprisingly, he was not particularly fond of the police and did not want to enthrall us with the tale of his undoing. He was incredibly well known to police and known to associate with violent gangs. He had been kidnapped from another part of London the previous night by a rival gang.
There isn't too much you can do but record an incident like that, without any cooperation and not knowing the full circumstances of what has occurred.
What was worse was that David and I had completely gone off the idea of breakfast.
Anonymous Bobby
Monday, January 30, 2017
Don't Be Fooled By Crime Figures
Just a quick note today on crime figures and how they are so easily manipulated.
For years money and resources have been stripped back from your police services. This has, apparently, coincided with a dramatic fall in police crime figures. So you are saving money and crime is falling? Wrong. Police crime figures are easily manipulated and I shall I tell you how here.
About the same time as money was ripped from police services in the UK, the police stopped reporting fraud. If you fall victim to fraud you will most likely be told to report this matter via a third party called Action Fraud. A catchy name but this means that these frauds are not recorded as crimes by the police. This has led to a massive drop in reported crime.
This deception is never outlined when senior officers proudly gloat about a fall in reported crime.
I will never forget an incident whereby I found myself working at a prestigious music event. I was on my break and I heard an officer call up on the radio saying he had been approached by a female whose purse had been stolen from her bag. Now the Metropolitan Police, and the organisers of the event, wanted the event to appear as crime free as possible and knew that all crimes reported at the event would be scrutinised. As quick as a flash a senior officer came onto the radio and said that if the female had not seen anyone take her purse from her bag then she had simply lost it and there was therefore no crime to report. Another way crime figures are manipulated. Go into any police front office and say you have had your purse stolen. You will be asked if you saw anyone take it and if you say no, it will be reported as lost.
Now, imagine you live in a block of flats. You return home after a hard day at work only to find that you have been burgled. Amid your dismay your neighbour comes out and says that they too have been burgled. These are two separate crimes, are they not? I know of many instances where, to satisfy crime figure demands, they are placed on the same crime report. Meaning that, statistically, only one crime has taken place.
So don't be fooled. Police crime figures can be manipulated very easily to satisfy whomever wishes to manipulate them, and for whatever reason. The blurred line separating policing from politics can be hard to distinguish sometimes.
Anonymous Bobby
For years money and resources have been stripped back from your police services. This has, apparently, coincided with a dramatic fall in police crime figures. So you are saving money and crime is falling? Wrong. Police crime figures are easily manipulated and I shall I tell you how here.
About the same time as money was ripped from police services in the UK, the police stopped reporting fraud. If you fall victim to fraud you will most likely be told to report this matter via a third party called Action Fraud. A catchy name but this means that these frauds are not recorded as crimes by the police. This has led to a massive drop in reported crime.
This deception is never outlined when senior officers proudly gloat about a fall in reported crime.
I will never forget an incident whereby I found myself working at a prestigious music event. I was on my break and I heard an officer call up on the radio saying he had been approached by a female whose purse had been stolen from her bag. Now the Metropolitan Police, and the organisers of the event, wanted the event to appear as crime free as possible and knew that all crimes reported at the event would be scrutinised. As quick as a flash a senior officer came onto the radio and said that if the female had not seen anyone take her purse from her bag then she had simply lost it and there was therefore no crime to report. Another way crime figures are manipulated. Go into any police front office and say you have had your purse stolen. You will be asked if you saw anyone take it and if you say no, it will be reported as lost.
Now, imagine you live in a block of flats. You return home after a hard day at work only to find that you have been burgled. Amid your dismay your neighbour comes out and says that they too have been burgled. These are two separate crimes, are they not? I know of many instances where, to satisfy crime figure demands, they are placed on the same crime report. Meaning that, statistically, only one crime has taken place.
So don't be fooled. Police crime figures can be manipulated very easily to satisfy whomever wishes to manipulate them, and for whatever reason. The blurred line separating policing from politics can be hard to distinguish sometimes.
Anonymous Bobby
Sunday, January 29, 2017
Police Jargon 3
The latest in my series of blogs explaining the unique language of police officers in London
Mong - An idiot. Somebody incapable of living their life without constant supervision.
Wiping Your Feet On The Way Out - A reference to somebody's home which is disgustingly dirty.
Doughnuts - A punishment. Any indiscretion could lead an officer to be required to buy doughnuts for his entire team. An officer may walk in late and be greeted by shouts of "Doughnuts!".
Soon Be Christmas - A term said when things are bad. As in "Never mind, it'll soon be Christmas".
Death Message - The task of attending someone's next of kin to inform them that their loved one is deceased.
Tit Hat - The large helmet traditionally associated with British police officers.
MetCab - The process of using a police vehicle in order to get home, usually when drunk. The drunk party would not drive but get a colleague to drive them home in a police car.
Over the Side - Somebody is 'over the side' if they are are cheating on their partner.
Bosh - To bosh something is to get rid of it in the easiest way possible. For example an incident may be 'boshed' by simply convincing all relevant parties that no further action is required. This is also known as Putting something in a box.
Met Bundle - The somewhat chaotic bundle of bodies that often ensues when trying to restrain somebody. Also known as a Roll Around.
Doing Somebody's Legs - Stitching somebody up.
Job's Fucked - A reference to how 'The Job' has detereorated to a point that nothing works. It is fucked.
Anonymous Bobby
Mong - An idiot. Somebody incapable of living their life without constant supervision.
Wiping Your Feet On The Way Out - A reference to somebody's home which is disgustingly dirty.
Doughnuts - A punishment. Any indiscretion could lead an officer to be required to buy doughnuts for his entire team. An officer may walk in late and be greeted by shouts of "Doughnuts!".
Soon Be Christmas - A term said when things are bad. As in "Never mind, it'll soon be Christmas".
Death Message - The task of attending someone's next of kin to inform them that their loved one is deceased.
Tit Hat - The large helmet traditionally associated with British police officers.
MetCab - The process of using a police vehicle in order to get home, usually when drunk. The drunk party would not drive but get a colleague to drive them home in a police car.
Over the Side - Somebody is 'over the side' if they are are cheating on their partner.
Bosh - To bosh something is to get rid of it in the easiest way possible. For example an incident may be 'boshed' by simply convincing all relevant parties that no further action is required. This is also known as Putting something in a box.
Met Bundle - The somewhat chaotic bundle of bodies that often ensues when trying to restrain somebody. Also known as a Roll Around.
Doing Somebody's Legs - Stitching somebody up.
Job's Fucked - A reference to how 'The Job' has detereorated to a point that nothing works. It is fucked.
Anonymous Bobby
Friday, January 27, 2017
Operation Minstead
Operation Minstead refers to the investigation into the prolific burglar/rapist that had plagued London's elderly community for decades. He had acquired the nickname 'The Nightstalker'.
Since the 1980s there had been many similar offences. Late at night a suspect would remove a pane of glass in the window of an elderly person. It was always an elderly person whom lived alone. Items were carefully moved to one side and the perpetrator took his time to cut telephone wires (and in later years place mobile phones on top of kitchen cabinets). Credit cards and cash were taken before he would gently sit on the bed of the elderly person. He would then commit rape and sexual assaults on his terrified victims. He targeted both male and female victims aged around 80 years.
His crimes took place over 20 years and are believed to number in the hundreds. Many victims are believed to have been too ashamed to have come forward. Many died before plucking up the courage to come forward. Some, having reported the matter, died soon after the offence, having never been the same since the awful intrusion.
Operation Minstead was the operation set up by the Metropolitan Police in order to catch The Nightstalker. It spanned decades and many officers deemed The Nightstalker too good at his crimes to ever be caught. He was, once, chased for a mile having just committed an offence by a lone police officer, but he was lost in a car park.
Police had descriptions of their man from several victims and CCTV of him withdrawing money from a cashpoint (ATM) using a victim's stolen credit card. They also had his DNA. But none of the DNA matched that which was held on the National DNA database.
The Nightstalker was caught a couple of years ago. By then, police knew the model of car he was using and 'old fashioned police work' (hundreds of police out at night looking for a man matching The Nightstalker's description in the model of car involved) they stopped him with his implements having recently committed one of his trademark crimes.
His DNA matched that left at several of the crime scenes.
His name was Delroy Grant, 53 years of age. He was a mini cab driver who spent the day caring for his wife who suffered from multiple sclerosis. Neighbours described him as a gentleman. His was mild mannered and obsessively clean and tidy. He tried to blame the crimes on his son, but that simply did not add up.
He was never found guilty of all his crimes because so many victims had either died, or not come forward. The Crown Prosecution Service picked 29 of the strongest cases against Grant and he was convicted of them. He was sentenced to a minimum 27 years. Meaning he could be freed aged 80, the average age of his victims.
Anonymous Bobby
Since the 1980s there had been many similar offences. Late at night a suspect would remove a pane of glass in the window of an elderly person. It was always an elderly person whom lived alone. Items were carefully moved to one side and the perpetrator took his time to cut telephone wires (and in later years place mobile phones on top of kitchen cabinets). Credit cards and cash were taken before he would gently sit on the bed of the elderly person. He would then commit rape and sexual assaults on his terrified victims. He targeted both male and female victims aged around 80 years.
His crimes took place over 20 years and are believed to number in the hundreds. Many victims are believed to have been too ashamed to have come forward. Many died before plucking up the courage to come forward. Some, having reported the matter, died soon after the offence, having never been the same since the awful intrusion.
Operation Minstead was the operation set up by the Metropolitan Police in order to catch The Nightstalker. It spanned decades and many officers deemed The Nightstalker too good at his crimes to ever be caught. He was, once, chased for a mile having just committed an offence by a lone police officer, but he was lost in a car park.
Police had descriptions of their man from several victims and CCTV of him withdrawing money from a cashpoint (ATM) using a victim's stolen credit card. They also had his DNA. But none of the DNA matched that which was held on the National DNA database.
The Nightstalker was caught a couple of years ago. By then, police knew the model of car he was using and 'old fashioned police work' (hundreds of police out at night looking for a man matching The Nightstalker's description in the model of car involved) they stopped him with his implements having recently committed one of his trademark crimes.
His DNA matched that left at several of the crime scenes.
His name was Delroy Grant, 53 years of age. He was a mini cab driver who spent the day caring for his wife who suffered from multiple sclerosis. Neighbours described him as a gentleman. His was mild mannered and obsessively clean and tidy. He tried to blame the crimes on his son, but that simply did not add up.
He was never found guilty of all his crimes because so many victims had either died, or not come forward. The Crown Prosecution Service picked 29 of the strongest cases against Grant and he was convicted of them. He was sentenced to a minimum 27 years. Meaning he could be freed aged 80, the average age of his victims.
Anonymous Bobby
Thursday, January 26, 2017
You Can't Save Them All
We've all seen the movies where somebody is dragged from the sea, or found collapsed, and our hero gets straight down and starts doing CPR. Shortly afterwards the poor suffering victim will splutter back to life and thank their new found hero.
I've had some success when it comes to CPR and lives have been saved. But it is not how the movies or television depict it.
Effective compressions on a person's chest are likely to break the ribs. One is required to compress about a third of the way into the person's torso. Imagine feeling the ribs crack beneath your hands as you push down. Then with each compression you can feel the broken bones inside the chest cavity.
I have been reliably informed by a doctor that CPR does not actually bring anybody back to life, it merely keeps the body alive. Compressions keep the blood moving around the body and therefore supplying it with oxygen, and rescue breaths into the victim's mouth keeps oxygen in the blood.
So you never actually bring someone back to life with CPR, you merely keep them alive.
It's not a glamorous task either. I would like to flatter myself by telling you stories of a poor, dying damsel in distress, images of me ripping my shirt open to reveal a six pack glistening in the sun while I run towards her in slow motion, before kneeling to bring her back to life with a few sensual compressions and a lingering kiss/rescue breath.
You'll be glad to know that the story I shall share is much more realistic, and a lot more gory.
A homeless man had jumped from a hostel window, falling from the second floor to the street below. As he had jumped his head had moved backwards and he descended as if lying flat on his back in bed. He landed this way and did not move. His head was flat on the pavement.
A fall from the second floor is most survivable. It is generally accepted that a fall from the 4th floor or higher will ultimately guarantee death. However, if you hit your head you could die from falling from a standing position.
Anyway, I was the first to reach this man. His facial expression told me he was dead. But there were onlookers. As I knelt beside him I started to see a grayish, clear liquid seep from the back of his head. I began chest compressions. Police officers are told that even if they know a person is dead, try CPR, their family may be looking on and just need to see someone trying to save their loved ones. Equally the public report feeling helpless and seeing somebody take action reassures them. Apparently.
That didn't matter though, I thought I had a good chance of saving this man.
CPR is a curious task. You become completely enveloped by the rhythm and strength of what you are doing. Making sure you do 30 compressions to 2 breaths (luckily I had a mask to help deliver the rescue breaths). I have always found that I become somewhat detached from my environment when conducting CPR. And that is how I found myself that day. It wasn't until I felt myself being dragged away by a paramedic concerned that I had completely lost the plot that I snapped back to reality.
The paramedic told me the male was gone. He turned the body slightly and I saw the man's brains dripping from the back of his head, which had taken the full force of the impact with the pavement.
I was covered in juices and blood. But, you can't save them all.
Anonymous Bobby
I've had some success when it comes to CPR and lives have been saved. But it is not how the movies or television depict it.
Effective compressions on a person's chest are likely to break the ribs. One is required to compress about a third of the way into the person's torso. Imagine feeling the ribs crack beneath your hands as you push down. Then with each compression you can feel the broken bones inside the chest cavity.
I have been reliably informed by a doctor that CPR does not actually bring anybody back to life, it merely keeps the body alive. Compressions keep the blood moving around the body and therefore supplying it with oxygen, and rescue breaths into the victim's mouth keeps oxygen in the blood.
So you never actually bring someone back to life with CPR, you merely keep them alive.
It's not a glamorous task either. I would like to flatter myself by telling you stories of a poor, dying damsel in distress, images of me ripping my shirt open to reveal a six pack glistening in the sun while I run towards her in slow motion, before kneeling to bring her back to life with a few sensual compressions and a lingering kiss/rescue breath.
You'll be glad to know that the story I shall share is much more realistic, and a lot more gory.
A homeless man had jumped from a hostel window, falling from the second floor to the street below. As he had jumped his head had moved backwards and he descended as if lying flat on his back in bed. He landed this way and did not move. His head was flat on the pavement.
A fall from the second floor is most survivable. It is generally accepted that a fall from the 4th floor or higher will ultimately guarantee death. However, if you hit your head you could die from falling from a standing position.
Anyway, I was the first to reach this man. His facial expression told me he was dead. But there were onlookers. As I knelt beside him I started to see a grayish, clear liquid seep from the back of his head. I began chest compressions. Police officers are told that even if they know a person is dead, try CPR, their family may be looking on and just need to see someone trying to save their loved ones. Equally the public report feeling helpless and seeing somebody take action reassures them. Apparently.
That didn't matter though, I thought I had a good chance of saving this man.
CPR is a curious task. You become completely enveloped by the rhythm and strength of what you are doing. Making sure you do 30 compressions to 2 breaths (luckily I had a mask to help deliver the rescue breaths). I have always found that I become somewhat detached from my environment when conducting CPR. And that is how I found myself that day. It wasn't until I felt myself being dragged away by a paramedic concerned that I had completely lost the plot that I snapped back to reality.
The paramedic told me the male was gone. He turned the body slightly and I saw the man's brains dripping from the back of his head, which had taken the full force of the impact with the pavement.
I was covered in juices and blood. But, you can't save them all.
Anonymous Bobby
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
Caring Corbyn?
On Sunday the 'New IRA' shot a police officer in Belfast. The officer was hit a few times in the arm during the attack. The 'New IRA' have since taken responsibility for the attack and stated that it was a targeted attempt to KILL two police officers.
Now, that's pretty big news wouldn't you think?
Today Jeremy Corbyn, the Labour leader, stood up in the House of Commons during Prime Minister's Questions and offered the House's sympathies for the officer who had lost his life. That's all very nice Mr Corbyn, except that no officer died as a result of the attack.
Is it too much to ask that the leader of the opposition in the House of Commons take the time to learn the actual facts about what is essentially a terrorist attack on our own turf?
In an attempt to use the situation to his advantage and gain support by expressing sympathy he has actually exploited his complete lack of caring. If it was an incident that he felt strongly for, he would be more aware of the facts. A quick look at the BBC or Sky News App would tell him that the officer was in a stable condition.
The truth is Corbyn does not care about that police officer. Not at all. Just like he doesn't care about any police officers. He's not alone in that House.
Nigel Dodds (North Belfast MP) described Corbyn's ridiculously misinformed statement as "one of the worst displays of crass ignorance that could be imagined". Does anybody really want this man to run the country?
Police officers risk their lives, daily, to protect the United Kingdom and I think it is not an exceptional expectation that the leaders in the House of Commons are aware of the finer details when one of us is seriously hurt and others threatened. A terror attack on police officers is about as serious as it gets, yet Corbyn didn't have the facts that 100 word BBC article supplied.
Shame on you Corbyn. Not that you're worried, because you don't really care at all, do you?
Anonymous Bobby
Now, that's pretty big news wouldn't you think?
Today Jeremy Corbyn, the Labour leader, stood up in the House of Commons during Prime Minister's Questions and offered the House's sympathies for the officer who had lost his life. That's all very nice Mr Corbyn, except that no officer died as a result of the attack.
Is it too much to ask that the leader of the opposition in the House of Commons take the time to learn the actual facts about what is essentially a terrorist attack on our own turf?
In an attempt to use the situation to his advantage and gain support by expressing sympathy he has actually exploited his complete lack of caring. If it was an incident that he felt strongly for, he would be more aware of the facts. A quick look at the BBC or Sky News App would tell him that the officer was in a stable condition.
The truth is Corbyn does not care about that police officer. Not at all. Just like he doesn't care about any police officers. He's not alone in that House.
Nigel Dodds (North Belfast MP) described Corbyn's ridiculously misinformed statement as "one of the worst displays of crass ignorance that could be imagined". Does anybody really want this man to run the country?
Police officers risk their lives, daily, to protect the United Kingdom and I think it is not an exceptional expectation that the leaders in the House of Commons are aware of the finer details when one of us is seriously hurt and others threatened. A terror attack on police officers is about as serious as it gets, yet Corbyn didn't have the facts that 100 word BBC article supplied.
Shame on you Corbyn. Not that you're worried, because you don't really care at all, do you?
Anonymous Bobby
Monday, January 23, 2017
A Professional Relationship with Death
Being a police officer for so long, on the front line of crime in the UK, has caused me to develop a strong relationship with death. I almost consider death a colleague with whom I work hand in hand.
I've spent more time than I care to think about around death. I have seen many dead bodies. Normally lying in the same position as when they took their final breath. I have broken the news to the loved ones of people who have passed too many times. The task of delivering such news is called a 'death message' and despite the various horrendous tasks police officers undertake, this is often considered the least desirable. It is certainly my least favourite item to deal with.
I've seen people die. I've heard the infamous 'death rattle'.
After a while I became familiar with death and the circumstances that surround it. I suppose it is a defence mechanism that I now consider death a colleague.
The most apparent and immediate consequence of death's presence is the smell. To describe it as a smell is actually misleading. However 'smell' is the closest and easiest description for the atmosphere in a place where death has been at work. In actual fact you do not even need to breath to be completely enveloped by the aroma and stale air that follows death. For those uninitiated in the ways of death, the best description of this 'smell' is to compare it to the smell of cannabis. Once a person is familiar with the smell of cannabis they recognise it easily, and do not tend to mistake it with anything else. It is such a distinctive smell, completley unique, that once a person knows the smell, they always recognise it. The same is to be said about the smell of death. The smell can linger in your throat or on your clothes for days like no other smell I have ever encountered.
Long ago a colleague and I forced our way into a flat where a man had not been seen for weeks. Before the door was open we knew he was dead inside, and had been so for a while. We could smell death. Sure enough, the man lay on his bed and the smell was absolutely horrendous. He was a white man but his skin had turned completely black. He had been there for weeks. I looked down to his stomach, which appeared to be moving. It was. A mass of maggots had turned his stomach into a living, moving lump of decaying flesh. My colleague pushed me into the room and held the door shut so I couldn't escape. Dark humour such as that is difficult to understand but a way that police officers deal with such horror.
There is another case where a woman was found sat in her armchair. Her television was on. She had obviously been there for months and had largely melted away into her carpet. On her lap was a TV guide which had rotted along with her. It was late December. The TV guide was just about eligible and open to the previous Christmas Eve, over a year ago.
More often we find the elderly relatively 'fresh' in their homes. Once there was an elderly chap who had died in the night at home. His flat was adorned with anniversary cards between himself and his wife. Pictures of his wife were everywhere and it was obvious that he missed her dearly. She had died a few years before. Before the undertakers took the man away I removed a coin from his wallet with an inscription on the back from his wife (he had obviously carried it around with him for most of his life). I placed it in his pocket to accompany him on his final journey. (Please note that we are required to search people's homes and wallets etc for high value items and large quantities of cash so that they are not left unattended and vulnerable, I was not leafing through his wallet out of curiosity!).
People tend to be curious about death. I have seen enough to satisfy any curiosity that I may have had. The curse is that when those close to you die, you know exactly what they looked like as they lay waiting to be found.
Anonymous Bobby
I've spent more time than I care to think about around death. I have seen many dead bodies. Normally lying in the same position as when they took their final breath. I have broken the news to the loved ones of people who have passed too many times. The task of delivering such news is called a 'death message' and despite the various horrendous tasks police officers undertake, this is often considered the least desirable. It is certainly my least favourite item to deal with.
I've seen people die. I've heard the infamous 'death rattle'.
After a while I became familiar with death and the circumstances that surround it. I suppose it is a defence mechanism that I now consider death a colleague.
The most apparent and immediate consequence of death's presence is the smell. To describe it as a smell is actually misleading. However 'smell' is the closest and easiest description for the atmosphere in a place where death has been at work. In actual fact you do not even need to breath to be completely enveloped by the aroma and stale air that follows death. For those uninitiated in the ways of death, the best description of this 'smell' is to compare it to the smell of cannabis. Once a person is familiar with the smell of cannabis they recognise it easily, and do not tend to mistake it with anything else. It is such a distinctive smell, completley unique, that once a person knows the smell, they always recognise it. The same is to be said about the smell of death. The smell can linger in your throat or on your clothes for days like no other smell I have ever encountered.
Long ago a colleague and I forced our way into a flat where a man had not been seen for weeks. Before the door was open we knew he was dead inside, and had been so for a while. We could smell death. Sure enough, the man lay on his bed and the smell was absolutely horrendous. He was a white man but his skin had turned completely black. He had been there for weeks. I looked down to his stomach, which appeared to be moving. It was. A mass of maggots had turned his stomach into a living, moving lump of decaying flesh. My colleague pushed me into the room and held the door shut so I couldn't escape. Dark humour such as that is difficult to understand but a way that police officers deal with such horror.
There is another case where a woman was found sat in her armchair. Her television was on. She had obviously been there for months and had largely melted away into her carpet. On her lap was a TV guide which had rotted along with her. It was late December. The TV guide was just about eligible and open to the previous Christmas Eve, over a year ago.
More often we find the elderly relatively 'fresh' in their homes. Once there was an elderly chap who had died in the night at home. His flat was adorned with anniversary cards between himself and his wife. Pictures of his wife were everywhere and it was obvious that he missed her dearly. She had died a few years before. Before the undertakers took the man away I removed a coin from his wallet with an inscription on the back from his wife (he had obviously carried it around with him for most of his life). I placed it in his pocket to accompany him on his final journey. (Please note that we are required to search people's homes and wallets etc for high value items and large quantities of cash so that they are not left unattended and vulnerable, I was not leafing through his wallet out of curiosity!).
People tend to be curious about death. I have seen enough to satisfy any curiosity that I may have had. The curse is that when those close to you die, you know exactly what they looked like as they lay waiting to be found.
Anonymous Bobby
Saturday, January 21, 2017
The Man Who Cut His Nose Off To Spite His Face
People do bizarre and unexplicable things.
There was a man who was wanted by police. He knew police were looking for him and so he took a knife and stabbed himself. Whether or not he intended to die I do not know. How he thought this would help if he did not intend to die, is also beyond me. Sadly, in this case it appears that he would have been better off if he had died.
His injuries were extensive and he suffered a stroke moments after self harming.
The stroke was catastrophic and he was left unable to communicate and was left, for want of a better word, a vegetable. He was only a young man and he had drawn his life to a partially premature end. Doctors would later predict that the man would not recover to his former self.
It's hard to understand how or why a person may take such drastic action. The offence for which he was wanted was relatively minor and he had not suffered any serious mental health problems prior to the incident. His family were left to pick up the pieces for the rest of his life because of one ridiculous and emotional outburst.
As a police officer I find myself regularly surrounded by such tragedy. It is most difficult to rationalise people's actions in one's mind. It is also difficult to explain to people the effect being around such events has on me. What am I supposed to tell my wife when I get home after each shift? I, like most police officers with 'non-job' wives, simply say nothing.
Anonymous Bobby
There was a man who was wanted by police. He knew police were looking for him and so he took a knife and stabbed himself. Whether or not he intended to die I do not know. How he thought this would help if he did not intend to die, is also beyond me. Sadly, in this case it appears that he would have been better off if he had died.
His injuries were extensive and he suffered a stroke moments after self harming.
The stroke was catastrophic and he was left unable to communicate and was left, for want of a better word, a vegetable. He was only a young man and he had drawn his life to a partially premature end. Doctors would later predict that the man would not recover to his former self.
It's hard to understand how or why a person may take such drastic action. The offence for which he was wanted was relatively minor and he had not suffered any serious mental health problems prior to the incident. His family were left to pick up the pieces for the rest of his life because of one ridiculous and emotional outburst.
As a police officer I find myself regularly surrounded by such tragedy. It is most difficult to rationalise people's actions in one's mind. It is also difficult to explain to people the effect being around such events has on me. What am I supposed to tell my wife when I get home after each shift? I, like most police officers with 'non-job' wives, simply say nothing.
Anonymous Bobby
Friday, January 20, 2017
Police Jargon 2
The second in Anonymous Bobby's Police Jargon series....
The Job - 'The Job' is a general way of referring to the police as a whole. For example:
John: "See that bloke over there?"
Boris: "Yeah, isnt't he in The Job?"
John: "Yeah he works in Croydon."
In some instances it is shortened to simply 'Job'. For example:
John: "That bloke is Job."
or
John: "I hate that bloke he is always talking Job" (indicating that he is always talking about the police and his occupation).
Jobfit - This is a term used to describe a person of either sex who is considered sexually attractive but only when compared to other police officers. In the general population they may be of average looks, whereas compared to other police officers, and the limited selection available, they would be classed as 'Jobfit'.
Sack of Shit - Refers to anybody he looks untidy. He "looks like a sack of shit".
Weary - Anything or anybody who makes things unnecessarily difficult. A call somebody is dealing with may be weary, meaning it is complicated and likely to be protracted. Or an officer may be considered weary for doing things to the letter of the law or taking too long to complete tasks.
PC Rain - Considered by all to be the most effective police officer the world has ever seen. PC Rain is simply, the rain. It is a reference to the tendency of crime to significantly diminish whilst it is raining.
Refs - Short for refreshments. Used to describe a break. "I'm going for refs now" or "What have you got for refs?"
Q - Police officers are a superstitious bunch. It is widely considered that using the word 'quiet' in any form will bring a sudden increase in crime and calls. Rather than risk saying 'quiet' officers say 'Q'. For example:
John: "It's really Q tonight isn't it?"
Boris: "Yeah, I haven't seen it this Q for a long time".
Old Sweat - An officer of considerable experience.
A Microwave - The opposite of an old sweat. Somebody who has been in The Job for less than 3 or 4 years and already thinks they know it all.
John: "That bloke has been in The Job for 5 minutes and he thinks he's done".
Hence, microwave.
Job Pissed - Somebody who loves The Job and lets it define them. They may work all of their days off and all the overtime they can get their hands. They will continuously 'talk job'.
A Doris - A female.
iPoo - An iPoo is caused by a sudden and desperate need to defecate. If such need is so desperate that the officer requires his blue lights and siren to get to the nearest washroom, then it is deemed an iPoo.
Anonymous Bobby
The Job - 'The Job' is a general way of referring to the police as a whole. For example:
John: "See that bloke over there?"
Boris: "Yeah, isnt't he in The Job?"
John: "Yeah he works in Croydon."
In some instances it is shortened to simply 'Job'. For example:
John: "That bloke is Job."
or
John: "I hate that bloke he is always talking Job" (indicating that he is always talking about the police and his occupation).
Jobfit - This is a term used to describe a person of either sex who is considered sexually attractive but only when compared to other police officers. In the general population they may be of average looks, whereas compared to other police officers, and the limited selection available, they would be classed as 'Jobfit'.
Sack of Shit - Refers to anybody he looks untidy. He "looks like a sack of shit".
Weary - Anything or anybody who makes things unnecessarily difficult. A call somebody is dealing with may be weary, meaning it is complicated and likely to be protracted. Or an officer may be considered weary for doing things to the letter of the law or taking too long to complete tasks.
PC Rain - Considered by all to be the most effective police officer the world has ever seen. PC Rain is simply, the rain. It is a reference to the tendency of crime to significantly diminish whilst it is raining.
Refs - Short for refreshments. Used to describe a break. "I'm going for refs now" or "What have you got for refs?"
Q - Police officers are a superstitious bunch. It is widely considered that using the word 'quiet' in any form will bring a sudden increase in crime and calls. Rather than risk saying 'quiet' officers say 'Q'. For example:
John: "It's really Q tonight isn't it?"
Boris: "Yeah, I haven't seen it this Q for a long time".
Old Sweat - An officer of considerable experience.
A Microwave - The opposite of an old sweat. Somebody who has been in The Job for less than 3 or 4 years and already thinks they know it all.
John: "That bloke has been in The Job for 5 minutes and he thinks he's done".
Hence, microwave.
Job Pissed - Somebody who loves The Job and lets it define them. They may work all of their days off and all the overtime they can get their hands. They will continuously 'talk job'.
A Doris - A female.
iPoo - An iPoo is caused by a sudden and desperate need to defecate. If such need is so desperate that the officer requires his blue lights and siren to get to the nearest washroom, then it is deemed an iPoo.
Anonymous Bobby
Monday, January 16, 2017
The Oxford Graduate on the Roof
Many years ago I was on patrol with my colleague Robert when we were called to an address where the informant's flatmate had climbed onto the roof of their block of flats. Nothing else was known when the call came out. Robert and I rushed to the scene to find out what was happening.
Upon arrival we noticed the address was a large block of flats, nine floors in height. The roof was in two parts, it had a pointed, triangular section and a flat section. I could see the silhouette of a young man standing on the edge of the flat section of the roof.
We went inside and up to the flat of the original informant, a flatmate of the male on the roof. He did not know the young man well, as he had recently moved in. We made our way to the top of the building to try and communicate with the young chap on the roof. Access to the roof was gained via a ladder to a hatch in the ceiling of the communal hallway (it was quite an old building). Unfortunately, the young man had somewhow wedged the hatch shut from above, it was not budging.
Robert and I knew we had to get a line of communication open with the young man so we resorted to leaning out of a living room window on the 9th floor. The poor residents of that flat were flabbergasted. I remember they were particularly worried about the paint on their window sill. I leaned out first and could just see the male. Robert held my legs tightly from inside the flat as I strained to make myself known and gain eye contact. I could see that the male was now sitting on the edge and was rocking back and forth. He was mumbling under his breath. I asked him his name and he told me his name was Kevin.
I told Kevin he would be OK and asked him to let me up through the hatch. But he had stopped talking to me. He was rocking, precariously, on the edge of the building and mumbling to himself under his breath. It was clear that he was having some sort of mental health breakdown.
His details were unknown to the police system and his flatmate said that he was usually healthy, as far as he knew. A quick look around Kevin's room gave us enough to work with. He was an Oxford University Graduate. He was keen on politics. Clearly an intellectual and academic. Robert and I guessed that something traumatic must of happened to cause his sudden breakdown.
Robert tapped a key on Kevin's laptop and it whirred into life. His computer's background was a picture of Kevin and a beautiful young blond. Could this girl be the reason Kevin was now rocking back and forth on the edge of a deathly drop?
Robert and I took it in turns to lean out the window and talk to Kevin. We continued for around 3 hours while other contingencies, such as the fire brigade, were put into place. It is excruciatingly difficult to talk to somebody that you barely know, without any form of response, for any length of time. Especially when you are trying not to irritate or upset them. It is a skill in itself. You quickly realise how repetitive you have become, and the spaces between the most calming and reassuring words you can think of becomes longer and longer. After a number of hours, I was leaning out when Kevin quickly stood and suddenly scrambled to the top of the triangular section of the roof. I watched him dart up there and was convinced he was going to leap off the top.
He sat on the point of the triangular roof and continued to rock, and we continued talking to him, just a little louder. He was now in an even more precarious position as the slightest slip would see him fall from the point of the roof.
Eventually he came in when the fire brigade made their way to the roof in a cherry picker. He simply got in it as soon as they reached him. I don't know if we had worn him down or he was just ready to come inside. All I knew was that I was exhausted and I couldn't feel my legs.
The beautiful young blond had, in fact, been the cause of Kevin's breakdown. They had been at Oxford together, studying politics and Kevin had then moved to London for a rather prestigious job. Due to the distance involved the blond ended the relationship. That was enough for Kevin to seriously consider ending his life.
We took him to a Mental Health Hospital to get help. He tried to run away when we got to the hospital so I hugged him. He was only small. I hugged him as if he were my own son and as I did so I walked him into the secure unit, without letting go.
Anonymous Bobby
Upon arrival we noticed the address was a large block of flats, nine floors in height. The roof was in two parts, it had a pointed, triangular section and a flat section. I could see the silhouette of a young man standing on the edge of the flat section of the roof.
We went inside and up to the flat of the original informant, a flatmate of the male on the roof. He did not know the young man well, as he had recently moved in. We made our way to the top of the building to try and communicate with the young chap on the roof. Access to the roof was gained via a ladder to a hatch in the ceiling of the communal hallway (it was quite an old building). Unfortunately, the young man had somewhow wedged the hatch shut from above, it was not budging.
Robert and I knew we had to get a line of communication open with the young man so we resorted to leaning out of a living room window on the 9th floor. The poor residents of that flat were flabbergasted. I remember they were particularly worried about the paint on their window sill. I leaned out first and could just see the male. Robert held my legs tightly from inside the flat as I strained to make myself known and gain eye contact. I could see that the male was now sitting on the edge and was rocking back and forth. He was mumbling under his breath. I asked him his name and he told me his name was Kevin.
I told Kevin he would be OK and asked him to let me up through the hatch. But he had stopped talking to me. He was rocking, precariously, on the edge of the building and mumbling to himself under his breath. It was clear that he was having some sort of mental health breakdown.
His details were unknown to the police system and his flatmate said that he was usually healthy, as far as he knew. A quick look around Kevin's room gave us enough to work with. He was an Oxford University Graduate. He was keen on politics. Clearly an intellectual and academic. Robert and I guessed that something traumatic must of happened to cause his sudden breakdown.
Robert tapped a key on Kevin's laptop and it whirred into life. His computer's background was a picture of Kevin and a beautiful young blond. Could this girl be the reason Kevin was now rocking back and forth on the edge of a deathly drop?
Robert and I took it in turns to lean out the window and talk to Kevin. We continued for around 3 hours while other contingencies, such as the fire brigade, were put into place. It is excruciatingly difficult to talk to somebody that you barely know, without any form of response, for any length of time. Especially when you are trying not to irritate or upset them. It is a skill in itself. You quickly realise how repetitive you have become, and the spaces between the most calming and reassuring words you can think of becomes longer and longer. After a number of hours, I was leaning out when Kevin quickly stood and suddenly scrambled to the top of the triangular section of the roof. I watched him dart up there and was convinced he was going to leap off the top.
He sat on the point of the triangular roof and continued to rock, and we continued talking to him, just a little louder. He was now in an even more precarious position as the slightest slip would see him fall from the point of the roof.
Eventually he came in when the fire brigade made their way to the roof in a cherry picker. He simply got in it as soon as they reached him. I don't know if we had worn him down or he was just ready to come inside. All I knew was that I was exhausted and I couldn't feel my legs.
The beautiful young blond had, in fact, been the cause of Kevin's breakdown. They had been at Oxford together, studying politics and Kevin had then moved to London for a rather prestigious job. Due to the distance involved the blond ended the relationship. That was enough for Kevin to seriously consider ending his life.
We took him to a Mental Health Hospital to get help. He tried to run away when we got to the hospital so I hugged him. He was only small. I hugged him as if he were my own son and as I did so I walked him into the secure unit, without letting go.
Anonymous Bobby
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
Mark Duggan and the Riots
Well it wouldn't be an anonymous police blog without a post regarding the riots in August 2011 in London following the police shooting of Mark Duggan now would it? Also, I did promise some controversy and to say what others did not dare say.
Now, for those who don't know, Mark Duggan was shot dead by police in August 2011. An intelligence led operation was conducted as the Met Police, correctly, believed that he would be in possession of an illegal firearm. Once the police were sure he had possession of the firearm they made their move to pull the taxi that Duggan was inside to the side of the road. Duggan opened the rear passenger door and appeared to try and flee. A firearms officer shot him dead believing that he was about to pull the firearm on him and his colleagues.
Analysis of the bullets' entry into Duggan's body and clothing has given us a clear indication of his posture the moment he was shot. As you read this, put your left hand into your left jacket pocket. Put your right hand under your left, under your jacket and into the waistband of your trousers. Now imagine yourself in this position as you run out of the back of a taxi. This is the position Duggan is now known to have been in when he was shot by police. Was the officer, knowing that he was in possession of a firearm, justified to believe that Duggan was reaching for a firearm?
An illegal firearm was later found metres from the car.
We have developed a culture in England as to never muddying that name of the dead, no matter the circumstances. Duggan has been portrayed favorably in the media. All negative press has been directed at the officers' actions and planning. I didn't know Mark Duggan, but I do know one thing, he had an illegal firearm. That means he had chosen to carry an illegal firearm. This indicates that he had chosen a certain life. We are all responsible for our choices, including the dead.
That firearms officer was put through the mill. He did not go to work to shoot a man dead. He went to work to do his job and return home to his family and loved ones in one piece. A known criminal, whom intelligence suggested was involved with a well-known and dangerous gang, who was known to be in possession of an illegal firearm, and quickly exited a vehicle, turning toward the officer in the stance described earlier. In that split second whereby that officer could make a potentially life or death decision, was he right to shoot? Is it that officer's fault that Duggan is dead?
I would suggest no. We are all responsible for our actions. We are all responsible for our decisions. That day Duggan decided to collect an illegal firearm and transport for whatever dangerous reason. When he made that decision he accepted certain risks. When his taxi was pulled over by armed officers shouting "Police!" he decided to flee. He decided not to surrender and comply with the officers demands. Before that day it is probable that Duggan made other bad decisions with a flippant view of the law and the rest of society. Who is responsible for Mark Duggan's death? Mark Duggan.
The riots that followed caused hundreds of millions of pounds worth of damage and spread through London. It began in Tottenham where Duggan was from. Soon, opportunists jumped on the band wagon and looting was widespread. Long-standing family businesses were burnt to the ground and the Met Police lost complete control of London for days. I was there throughout.
One question that people often ask police officers is "Have you ever thought you were going to die?". During the riots it was a complete war zone in London. At one point I was with an officer who had recently joined the police from the army and had done two tours of Afghanistan. Things were looking a bit hairy at one point and we were surrounded and cut off by hundreds of masked and armed rioters with a thirst for police blood. He turned to me and said 'I don't think we are going to make it through this'". That was the moment I feared for my life. One day I'll tell you the full story of my experience in the riots, until then, stay safe.
Anonymous Bobby
Now, for those who don't know, Mark Duggan was shot dead by police in August 2011. An intelligence led operation was conducted as the Met Police, correctly, believed that he would be in possession of an illegal firearm. Once the police were sure he had possession of the firearm they made their move to pull the taxi that Duggan was inside to the side of the road. Duggan opened the rear passenger door and appeared to try and flee. A firearms officer shot him dead believing that he was about to pull the firearm on him and his colleagues.
Analysis of the bullets' entry into Duggan's body and clothing has given us a clear indication of his posture the moment he was shot. As you read this, put your left hand into your left jacket pocket. Put your right hand under your left, under your jacket and into the waistband of your trousers. Now imagine yourself in this position as you run out of the back of a taxi. This is the position Duggan is now known to have been in when he was shot by police. Was the officer, knowing that he was in possession of a firearm, justified to believe that Duggan was reaching for a firearm?
An illegal firearm was later found metres from the car.
We have developed a culture in England as to never muddying that name of the dead, no matter the circumstances. Duggan has been portrayed favorably in the media. All negative press has been directed at the officers' actions and planning. I didn't know Mark Duggan, but I do know one thing, he had an illegal firearm. That means he had chosen to carry an illegal firearm. This indicates that he had chosen a certain life. We are all responsible for our choices, including the dead.
That firearms officer was put through the mill. He did not go to work to shoot a man dead. He went to work to do his job and return home to his family and loved ones in one piece. A known criminal, whom intelligence suggested was involved with a well-known and dangerous gang, who was known to be in possession of an illegal firearm, and quickly exited a vehicle, turning toward the officer in the stance described earlier. In that split second whereby that officer could make a potentially life or death decision, was he right to shoot? Is it that officer's fault that Duggan is dead?
I would suggest no. We are all responsible for our actions. We are all responsible for our decisions. That day Duggan decided to collect an illegal firearm and transport for whatever dangerous reason. When he made that decision he accepted certain risks. When his taxi was pulled over by armed officers shouting "Police!" he decided to flee. He decided not to surrender and comply with the officers demands. Before that day it is probable that Duggan made other bad decisions with a flippant view of the law and the rest of society. Who is responsible for Mark Duggan's death? Mark Duggan.
The riots that followed caused hundreds of millions of pounds worth of damage and spread through London. It began in Tottenham where Duggan was from. Soon, opportunists jumped on the band wagon and looting was widespread. Long-standing family businesses were burnt to the ground and the Met Police lost complete control of London for days. I was there throughout.
One question that people often ask police officers is "Have you ever thought you were going to die?". During the riots it was a complete war zone in London. At one point I was with an officer who had recently joined the police from the army and had done two tours of Afghanistan. Things were looking a bit hairy at one point and we were surrounded and cut off by hundreds of masked and armed rioters with a thirst for police blood. He turned to me and said 'I don't think we are going to make it through this'". That was the moment I feared for my life. One day I'll tell you the full story of my experience in the riots, until then, stay safe.
Anonymous Bobby
Monday, January 9, 2017
Police Officer Mentality
I can't speak for all police officers. My experiences will be different to every other police officer in the world. My opinions will be different. However, I know hundreds of police officers, personally and professionally. My friends are all police officers. I know police officers' mentality. There are certain consistencies and aggravations that appear to be broadly shared. Now it may be that my experiences are biased toward the thinking of a London officer, but I suspect not.
Let me say this, police officers are generally good people. In fact, in my experience, a vast majority of officers are good people, trying to do good things. Newspapers and television appear to be painting police officers as the modern day Boogeyman, but they are an easy scape goat.
Police services do not generally defend themselves publicly in the media. Among police officers, when a story hits the headlines, they know that eventually it will be concluded that the police made errors, it was their fault. The public need somebody to blame and the police services seem to fill that role both effectively and happily. Unfortunately, this does somewhat dampen the morale and good will of officers who strive to help others, or hinder them respectively.
Within 'The Job' morale is not seen as an important issue. Senior Leaders are concentrating on efficiency and money saving, possibly rightly so. But to completely neglect the importance of officers' mental well being and morale is dangerous. You have to keep your workforce somewhat happy in any business or service. Any retail manager will tell you that a happy, content employee will sell more, attend more and have a positive influence on both the atmosphere and sales figures of a store than an employee who feels unhappy, exploited and cheated.
So what are all these officers whinging about?
Well, I'll outline a few gripes that seem to come up time and again in my daily work life.
Minimum Strength - An emergency response team will cover one borough, normally out of one police station and will answer calls made to the public from emergency (or i graded calls, with a 14 minute response time maximum) to non-emergency calls (s graded calls with a maximum 1 hour response and e graded, with a maximum 72 hour response, hence why they are sometimes dubbed 'eventually calls'). Borough to borough it varies how many police officers are needed on a response team but, somewhere down the line, it has been decided that each borough will have its own minimum strength for that borough's response team. For example, let's imagine where I work the minimum strength is 20 officers. That means the Met Police have decided that to have less than 20 officers on a response team at any one time is unsafe for both the public and those officers on duty. Teams may have 35 officers on but they may be at court, or abstracted at any time or on annual leave, but never should a team fall below 20 officers. Every officer in London knows how easily and how often the strength of their team falls 10-20% below the minimum strength, usually at a weekend when people are most needed. That not only puts us officers at risk, but if you need the police urgently, it may be a long time before there are officers free to get to you. "So tell the Senior Leadership Team!" I hear you scream "They have to do something about it!". Well, no. I've heard many officers bring this issue up to Senior Officers who have the power and influence to remedy this situation and the answer is always the same. It goes along the lines of not letting officers have annual leave when they really want it to be with their families in order to maintain minimum strengths. Morale sapping I'm sure you'll agree.
Equipment - Next time you see a police officer on the street, go and ask them how long it took them to log onto a computer that day. I'll leave that there. There you go, you have homework. This doesn't take into account the almost impossibility of acquiring new uniform, getting hold of an ESD (roadside breath test), enforcer (the big red thing we use to smash your door in if you need us, or you're hding from us!) etc etc etc. Oh, and while you're talking to that officer about the computers, ask him about the state of the toilets at his station (make sure you have digested your lunch first). Officers work in squalid, cramped conditions in old decaying buildings. Morale sapping I'm sure you'll agree.
The Judiciary - As I have outlined before, I've been on a response team for nearly a decade. Safe to say we are still arresting the same people, for the same offences now as we were when I started. Literally, the same people. The same people are burgling people's houses now as when I arrested them for burglary 9 years ago. They've been arrested for it many times since as well. And convicted. Truth sentencing is too short and they are soon out doing it again and again and it's YOU who suffers. I've reported hundreds of burglaries in my time and most of the time I can tell who has done it just by the methods used and the items taken, not enough to secure a conviction obviously. The same people now are breaking into your cars overnight as were doing it 9/10 years ago when I joined, and theyve been arrested and presented to a court dozens of times.
Police Backbone - The police service (not police force, that would be intimidating) in the UK has no backbone. Let me use one example to prove my case. We do not chase mopeds. Someone on a moped could commit any offence in front of a police car and that police car will not be allowed to chase it. They can just ride off at a leisurely pace. Why? Because we wouldn't want them to fall off and hurt themselves would we? There has been a massive increase in moped enabled crime in London recently, and this is because criminals know that only a select few police cars (and i do mean few) can chase them. If you were to bring this to the attention of the SLT (Senior Leadership Team) they would say that they are working at increasing the amount of response drivers who are able to pursue mopeds. I can tell you from an officer who is out there everyday, that on my team the last person to get a driving course was well over 18 months ago and there is no sign of anyone getting one in the near future.
These are merely a few gripes that scratch the surface. Keep reading, stay with me and I'll give you a full overview of the general misery of police officers in the UK at the current time.
Anonymous Bobby
Let me say this, police officers are generally good people. In fact, in my experience, a vast majority of officers are good people, trying to do good things. Newspapers and television appear to be painting police officers as the modern day Boogeyman, but they are an easy scape goat.
Police services do not generally defend themselves publicly in the media. Among police officers, when a story hits the headlines, they know that eventually it will be concluded that the police made errors, it was their fault. The public need somebody to blame and the police services seem to fill that role both effectively and happily. Unfortunately, this does somewhat dampen the morale and good will of officers who strive to help others, or hinder them respectively.
Within 'The Job' morale is not seen as an important issue. Senior Leaders are concentrating on efficiency and money saving, possibly rightly so. But to completely neglect the importance of officers' mental well being and morale is dangerous. You have to keep your workforce somewhat happy in any business or service. Any retail manager will tell you that a happy, content employee will sell more, attend more and have a positive influence on both the atmosphere and sales figures of a store than an employee who feels unhappy, exploited and cheated.
So what are all these officers whinging about?
Well, I'll outline a few gripes that seem to come up time and again in my daily work life.
Minimum Strength - An emergency response team will cover one borough, normally out of one police station and will answer calls made to the public from emergency (or i graded calls, with a 14 minute response time maximum) to non-emergency calls (s graded calls with a maximum 1 hour response and e graded, with a maximum 72 hour response, hence why they are sometimes dubbed 'eventually calls'). Borough to borough it varies how many police officers are needed on a response team but, somewhere down the line, it has been decided that each borough will have its own minimum strength for that borough's response team. For example, let's imagine where I work the minimum strength is 20 officers. That means the Met Police have decided that to have less than 20 officers on a response team at any one time is unsafe for both the public and those officers on duty. Teams may have 35 officers on but they may be at court, or abstracted at any time or on annual leave, but never should a team fall below 20 officers. Every officer in London knows how easily and how often the strength of their team falls 10-20% below the minimum strength, usually at a weekend when people are most needed. That not only puts us officers at risk, but if you need the police urgently, it may be a long time before there are officers free to get to you. "So tell the Senior Leadership Team!" I hear you scream "They have to do something about it!". Well, no. I've heard many officers bring this issue up to Senior Officers who have the power and influence to remedy this situation and the answer is always the same. It goes along the lines of not letting officers have annual leave when they really want it to be with their families in order to maintain minimum strengths. Morale sapping I'm sure you'll agree.
Equipment - Next time you see a police officer on the street, go and ask them how long it took them to log onto a computer that day. I'll leave that there. There you go, you have homework. This doesn't take into account the almost impossibility of acquiring new uniform, getting hold of an ESD (roadside breath test), enforcer (the big red thing we use to smash your door in if you need us, or you're hding from us!) etc etc etc. Oh, and while you're talking to that officer about the computers, ask him about the state of the toilets at his station (make sure you have digested your lunch first). Officers work in squalid, cramped conditions in old decaying buildings. Morale sapping I'm sure you'll agree.
The Judiciary - As I have outlined before, I've been on a response team for nearly a decade. Safe to say we are still arresting the same people, for the same offences now as we were when I started. Literally, the same people. The same people are burgling people's houses now as when I arrested them for burglary 9 years ago. They've been arrested for it many times since as well. And convicted. Truth sentencing is too short and they are soon out doing it again and again and it's YOU who suffers. I've reported hundreds of burglaries in my time and most of the time I can tell who has done it just by the methods used and the items taken, not enough to secure a conviction obviously. The same people now are breaking into your cars overnight as were doing it 9/10 years ago when I joined, and theyve been arrested and presented to a court dozens of times.
Police Backbone - The police service (not police force, that would be intimidating) in the UK has no backbone. Let me use one example to prove my case. We do not chase mopeds. Someone on a moped could commit any offence in front of a police car and that police car will not be allowed to chase it. They can just ride off at a leisurely pace. Why? Because we wouldn't want them to fall off and hurt themselves would we? There has been a massive increase in moped enabled crime in London recently, and this is because criminals know that only a select few police cars (and i do mean few) can chase them. If you were to bring this to the attention of the SLT (Senior Leadership Team) they would say that they are working at increasing the amount of response drivers who are able to pursue mopeds. I can tell you from an officer who is out there everyday, that on my team the last person to get a driving course was well over 18 months ago and there is no sign of anyone getting one in the near future.
These are merely a few gripes that scratch the surface. Keep reading, stay with me and I'll give you a full overview of the general misery of police officers in the UK at the current time.
Anonymous Bobby
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