Today marks the beginning of the Anonymous Bobby Award Season. The WPT Award (or the Wasting Police Time Award) shall be decided by Anonymous Bobby's devoted readers.
Please feel free to vote for your choice of the following candidates by commenting below or visiting the official Anonymous Bobby Twitter page and voting on the poll at the top of the page (Twitter ID: @anonbobbyblog)
Nominee Number 1:
The dear old lady who called for Anonymous Bobby's services as she had inexplicably noticed a full garlic bulb on the roof of her conservatory. Fearing for her life she had called the police. Was it left there by vampire fearing burglars? Or troublesome French youths? This lady had all of her marbles, but just could not find a logical explanation as to how a garlic bulb had found its way onto the roof of her newly built conservatory. Patiently, Anonymous Bobby removed the bulb, however it was never forensically analysed. The mystery remains unsolved.
Nominee Number 2:
A concerned, and time rich, citizen who called for Anonymous Bobby's help due to a raging neighbour dispute. He had lived next door to his neighbour for a few years and their relationship had always been friendly and amicable. Until one dark Summer's day when he awoke, drew back his curtains, and saw his worst nightmare. His neighbours had hooked their washing line over HIS fence post. It was visible from his garden as it recklessly strained at his fence post. This was, according to the man, blatant vandalism. Order was restored by Anonymous Bobby politely requesting the neighbour found another support for the offending washing line. This incident never made the national news.
Nominee Number 3:
A young, and probably strung out, chap who called the police stating a stranger was in his garden. Risking life and limb Anonymous Bobby flew to his aid. The stranger in his garden was a cat. A black cat. It wasn't a neighbour's cat and the young chap was convinced he had never seen the cat before. But that was not why he had called the police. It would be ridiculous to call the police as there is a cat you do not recognise in your garden. He admitted that. The reason he had called the police was that the cat was refusing to leave. No action was taken against the cat by Anonymous Bobby, however the strung out young chap was given strong words of advice.
All three have been scrupulously chosen from an extensive shortlist. Please register your vote now to ensure your worthy candidate receives all the recognition they truly deserve. Also, be sure to save the Anonymous Bobby Blog to your favourites in order to ensure you never miss an Anonymous Bobby blog.
Anonymous Bobby
Sunday, February 19, 2017
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
Friday, February 3, 2017
A Ceasefire in the War on Drugs
People are going to take drugs. Not everybody, but a good proportion of people. Some will take drugs recreationally, some will become addicted. Some will dip in and out of drug use, some will spiral into a depraved world and hectic lifestyle. Some people will never try an illegal drug. Some people will try them all.
The above is probably going to remain true no matter what approach we take to drug use. The fact is we need to start focusing our resources on harm reduction and assistance for those that drug use affects so negatively.
As always, I don't have the answers. But I do know that what we are currently doing does not work. We criminalise ordinary people, and sometimes sick people, for drug use or possession. Licensed venues such as clubs are terrified of working with police as police licensing teams rule with an iron rod and if the clubs admit drug use in their venues then they are closed, temporarily or sometimes indefinitely.
Legalisation is not necessarily the answer. But a redirection of funds and resources, such as man power, into education, prevention, and intervention would, in my opinion, be a start. That's all very broad I understand, but it's better than locking people up for taking drugs.
Some people like to get fucked up, for a myriad of reasons (Good heavens! Excuse my French). First and foremost we need to focus on making sure it is done as safely as possible. Persecuting people leads to an aura of "unapproachability". We have been arresting people for using drugs for decades, and it is still happening. So perhaps, whilst keeping a principle of illegality, we lower the stick slightly and raise the carrot.
From a policing point of view all resources should be directed towards those who prey on the vulnerable and sell narcotics, and those who manufacture them. An incredible amount of man hours are wasted while officers deal with people whom have been stopped with £10 worth of cannabis. As a society we gain nothing from this. It costs a fortune, it takes police off the streets for unnecessarily long amounts of time, and it criminalises (albeit sometimes in a very minor way) somebody for doing something that so many of us have done (Hands up! Who's smoked a joint before?! You're nicked!).
As I said, I don't have the answers. We do, however, need a cataclysmic shift in the way we deal with drug use in London, and the UK. I'm not pro-drug. I'm anti criminalisation for minor drug possession. I'm pro harm reduction.
Your sons and daughters, as with mine, are quite likely to try drugs at some point. No matter how much we try, it is likely to happen. If they were to be caught, would you want them thrown in a cell or taught the realities and consequences of their actions? Before being safely deposited back to yourselves, of course. It all sounds a little 'la-de-da' I know. I'm not a 'la-de-da' person generally, but the above is a typical example of the pointlessness of criminalising people.
As for prison, drug users often tell me that it is the opposite that a drug addict needs. Drugs are, apparently, widely available and if you think that prison will get people clean, you are very wrong. Addicts should be provided with safe environments to take hard drugs, with clean needles and medical staff on site. This has been implemented in several countries, and very successfully too. Whilst they are there, counsellors work their magic and gently prod and probe to get each person ready for recovery.
It's a difficult subject and nobody knows exactly what will work and what won't. Those that dabble in drugs are generally little nuisance to society, and those that become addled with addiction are a gigantic peck of bother! Those that are addicted should be 'treated' rather than 'punished'.
Please feel free to comment below to let me know your own stance on drug policies.
Anonymous Bobby
The above is probably going to remain true no matter what approach we take to drug use. The fact is we need to start focusing our resources on harm reduction and assistance for those that drug use affects so negatively.
As always, I don't have the answers. But I do know that what we are currently doing does not work. We criminalise ordinary people, and sometimes sick people, for drug use or possession. Licensed venues such as clubs are terrified of working with police as police licensing teams rule with an iron rod and if the clubs admit drug use in their venues then they are closed, temporarily or sometimes indefinitely.
Legalisation is not necessarily the answer. But a redirection of funds and resources, such as man power, into education, prevention, and intervention would, in my opinion, be a start. That's all very broad I understand, but it's better than locking people up for taking drugs.
Some people like to get fucked up, for a myriad of reasons (Good heavens! Excuse my French). First and foremost we need to focus on making sure it is done as safely as possible. Persecuting people leads to an aura of "unapproachability". We have been arresting people for using drugs for decades, and it is still happening. So perhaps, whilst keeping a principle of illegality, we lower the stick slightly and raise the carrot.
From a policing point of view all resources should be directed towards those who prey on the vulnerable and sell narcotics, and those who manufacture them. An incredible amount of man hours are wasted while officers deal with people whom have been stopped with £10 worth of cannabis. As a society we gain nothing from this. It costs a fortune, it takes police off the streets for unnecessarily long amounts of time, and it criminalises (albeit sometimes in a very minor way) somebody for doing something that so many of us have done (Hands up! Who's smoked a joint before?! You're nicked!).
As I said, I don't have the answers. We do, however, need a cataclysmic shift in the way we deal with drug use in London, and the UK. I'm not pro-drug. I'm anti criminalisation for minor drug possession. I'm pro harm reduction.
Your sons and daughters, as with mine, are quite likely to try drugs at some point. No matter how much we try, it is likely to happen. If they were to be caught, would you want them thrown in a cell or taught the realities and consequences of their actions? Before being safely deposited back to yourselves, of course. It all sounds a little 'la-de-da' I know. I'm not a 'la-de-da' person generally, but the above is a typical example of the pointlessness of criminalising people.
As for prison, drug users often tell me that it is the opposite that a drug addict needs. Drugs are, apparently, widely available and if you think that prison will get people clean, you are very wrong. Addicts should be provided with safe environments to take hard drugs, with clean needles and medical staff on site. This has been implemented in several countries, and very successfully too. Whilst they are there, counsellors work their magic and gently prod and probe to get each person ready for recovery.
It's a difficult subject and nobody knows exactly what will work and what won't. Those that dabble in drugs are generally little nuisance to society, and those that become addled with addiction are a gigantic peck of bother! Those that are addicted should be 'treated' rather than 'punished'.
Please feel free to comment below to let me know your own stance on drug policies.
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
Wednesday, February 1, 2017
Where It All Began For Anonymous Bobby
Everybody remembers their first arrest. I was fortunate, you could say, as mine was slightly more exciting than the average body for shoplifting or similar.
It was a cold December night and I had been on response team for only a few days. I was working with two very experienced PC's, who have probably been retired for a long time now. Other officers on our team were chasing a young lad who had been robbing other youths at knife point. The suspect was making off through the rear gardens of addresses near where we were situated.
I was so new that speeding through London's streets with blue lights flashing and sirens wailing was still exciting. It was dark so the blue lights reflected on the street signs and were almost blinding. As we approached where the young man was being chased he darted across the road in front of us and into an estate on our left.
I flew out of the vehicle and gave chase. To get into the estate I had to hurdle a small fence about 2 feet in height. I did this successfully, however the grass on the other side was icy and I promptly fell 'arse over tit' on the other side. Undeterred I got to my feet and continued to chase (I was a much younger man back then). I gained ground, he was young but had already been running for several minutes and was beginning to tire. I reached out and my hand brushed his hood which flapped behind him in the wind. I was so close as he jumped down 4 or 5 stairs into a stairway in the block of flats. I followed. I obviously hadn't learned my lesson. The concrete was solid ice as I landed and I repeated my inelegant fall from a few moments earlier.
It is testament to the folly of youth, excitement and an eagerness to please that moments after my second fall I caught up with the young man and tackled him to the floor with an interception that even the most hardened rugby player would have been proud of.
I arrested him for possession of a bladed article and robbery. He cried all the way to custody. The skin on my knees took weeks to heal.
It's sad to say but I'll be completely honest with you. If that same incident occurred tomoroow I wouldn't even bother giving chase. I don't know what happened to the lad but I'm sure it was a pathetic slap on the wrist. The grief, writing and hassle that follows such an arrest makes it not worthwhile in the first place, to anybody. It is a likely estimation that the harshest punishment laid out because of the above situation was to my poor knees. On the plus side, I had obviously impressed my colleagues. As we returned to the station, for the first time, one of them offered to make me a cup of tea. I had been accepted.
Anonymous Bobby
It was a cold December night and I had been on response team for only a few days. I was working with two very experienced PC's, who have probably been retired for a long time now. Other officers on our team were chasing a young lad who had been robbing other youths at knife point. The suspect was making off through the rear gardens of addresses near where we were situated.
I was so new that speeding through London's streets with blue lights flashing and sirens wailing was still exciting. It was dark so the blue lights reflected on the street signs and were almost blinding. As we approached where the young man was being chased he darted across the road in front of us and into an estate on our left.
I flew out of the vehicle and gave chase. To get into the estate I had to hurdle a small fence about 2 feet in height. I did this successfully, however the grass on the other side was icy and I promptly fell 'arse over tit' on the other side. Undeterred I got to my feet and continued to chase (I was a much younger man back then). I gained ground, he was young but had already been running for several minutes and was beginning to tire. I reached out and my hand brushed his hood which flapped behind him in the wind. I was so close as he jumped down 4 or 5 stairs into a stairway in the block of flats. I followed. I obviously hadn't learned my lesson. The concrete was solid ice as I landed and I repeated my inelegant fall from a few moments earlier.
It is testament to the folly of youth, excitement and an eagerness to please that moments after my second fall I caught up with the young man and tackled him to the floor with an interception that even the most hardened rugby player would have been proud of.
I arrested him for possession of a bladed article and robbery. He cried all the way to custody. The skin on my knees took weeks to heal.
It's sad to say but I'll be completely honest with you. If that same incident occurred tomoroow I wouldn't even bother giving chase. I don't know what happened to the lad but I'm sure it was a pathetic slap on the wrist. The grief, writing and hassle that follows such an arrest makes it not worthwhile in the first place, to anybody. It is a likely estimation that the harshest punishment laid out because of the above situation was to my poor knees. On the plus side, I had obviously impressed my colleagues. As we returned to the station, for the first time, one of them offered to make me a cup of tea. I had been accepted.
Anonymous Bobby
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