Picture the scene, it's a beautiful summers day, you are out with the family enjoying the sun, having a picnic in the park. You feed the ducks with your two children (Who are both impeccably behaved as ever) then play football with them before they dash off to have a go on the swings. All is well with the world.
Then comes the time to go home, and later to work. On the night shift in Shitesville.
Two minutes after parade starts the first call comes in, a domestic disturbance in the worst part of town. You head off up there with your partner. And it's the same old story...
She said this...
He said that....
Blah Blah.... Bit of swearing then "Get out of my f**king house anyway!" and he starts to become aggressive.
Well you can't leave everybody in these circumstances so then it's arrest time, but while you are struggling with him, you suddenly find a screaming banshee on your back.
In a flash it's gone from 'defend me from him' to 'Get off my husband'
And then all the balloons go up, it turns into a brawl and everyone gets hurt. You drag the woman out of the house as she spits, kicks and shouts her vile curses at you. The whole neighbourhood suddenly looks up from it's collective television and decides that, what's on in the street is better than Eastenders.
So you now have an audience, and there you are, a 6'00" tall broad shouldered male police officer wearing ballistic armour and with a range of weaponry attached to a belt that Batman would have been jealous of, but you are being beaten up by a girl!
Or maybe you are not being beaten up, but it is proving more than a bit difficult to restrain her and the only thoughts in your head are how much her nails are digging into the back of your hands, how your head is still ringing from that lucky shot she got in earlier and worst of all how bloody awful this must look to an observer.
With the help of your colleagues you eventually get her into the back of a caged van and she kicks and bangs around in there all the way back to the station. The man is also restrained in much the same way.
And so you now take stock, your head is still ringing, your hands are bleeding and the wounds look like they may be so infected that a bath in dettol is probably your best option. Your shirt is ripped and covered in muck, snot and blood, your trousers likewise.
You eventually get cleaned up, go home get some sleep etc, only the next day when the kids feel like another picnic and another game of football it's not quite as enjoyable, you have a general malaise that overcomes you and makes you feel "I am getting to old for this" even though you are still only in your thirties.
But you can't go sick or your bonus payments may be effected and you won't get that nice posting to the department you so wanted, and we were short of staff last night so imagine how much worse it would be if I didn't turn up.
A few days later, you are back at work when a pristinely suited police Inspector calls around to visit, he brings you a piece of paper informing you that a complaint has been received.
Apparently you 'handcuffed' a perfectly personable and passive female prisoner whom you had arrested unlawfully. And not only that, you arrested her husband, who had done nuffinck either.
As the form is handed over, you take another long look at the healing skin on the back of your hands and think to yourself....
WHY?
© Bob Slot 2007
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5 comments:
"...but he's ma man an' ah luv him. He's only like this when he takes a drink...". How often have I heard that particular line.
Funny how they never recall this when they call the poice/ambulance in the first place.
Lucy
Man, you summed up the joys of the job so well. Next call would be an old lady who'd been burgled but didn't like to waste your time by dialling 999 - if only she had, we'd have been round like a shot and hopefully caught the little blighters.
A policeman once said something along the lines of: "the less important the call, the quicker the caller wants you there".
anon 22:56,
you just posted one of those comments which sums it up perfectly.
i know what you mean and totally agree with what you say.
working on a relatively large council estate where all the residents do all day is drink high strength lager (paid for 'on the social') and fight each other we get fed up of being called to their domestic incidents, to be told "eee 'it oi and oi wants 'im arrested" and then when you have finished fighting with the knuckle scrapping dole fed beer swilling chain smoking idiot in order to arrest him then equally as stupid partner then decides that she doesnt want him arrested only removed from the house. I forgot that as non tax payers these bottom feeding residents of the estates we all work on have a choice and we are but merely their private security guards.
i can only suggest that when the Inspector call with the reg 9, or his/ her lacky sent to serve said reg 9 that you smile sweetly and take it from them, then use it to decorate the bin.
bitter and twisted? yes i am.
if i hear the phrase "i loves him coz he buys i chips" i will go mad.
as a pc, nicked a bloke after a domestic. He was kicking off blah blah chuck in the back of van and slam door.
Oops.
Hand in hinge when door slammed.
Cue one very messed up hand, complaint etc etc.
Eventually, he withdrew it. I should think the same would happen here. At least I hope so.
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