People seek Inspiration in different ways. A colleague of mine likes to print off words of wisdom by various intellectuals and post them up on the wall in his office as a shrine to all things clever.
I think he thinks it makes him look bright, but I doubt he understands any of them. (He certainly doesn't practice their teachings, but that's another story)
Anyway, not one to be outdone, I decided it was time that one of mine went up on the wall of wisdom.
However, what I wanted to post 'Don't let the Bastards Get you down!" is hardly acceptable on a police station wall.
So, being the lateral thinking, 'out of the box, blue sky' type of guy I am, I concoct a cunning plan.
If I were to translate my saying into Russian, who'll know? Ha Ha, it can be my little joke, won't I just be the funniest cop in my chair!
So off I trot to trusty babelfish to translate my text, it works a treat..
Не препятствуйте сволочам получить вас вниз
'Great' thinks I, rubbing my hands together and giggling like a schoolgirl on laughing gas.
Better just translate it back, just to check...
Do not prevent bastards to obtain you downward
Hmm...
Not sure which makes more sense!
It's going on the wall anyway!
© Bob Slot 2007
Tuesday 30 January 2007
Sunday 28 January 2007
Decorating
Just done a bit of decorating around the blog, a bit old fashioned, I know. But hey' I'm an old fashioned type of guy.
© Bob Slot 2007
© Bob Slot 2007
Wednesday 24 January 2007
Wild Geese
Ever get the impression you're wasting your time?
Limit jail sentences, urges Reid
Only a short one today, the wild geese have got out again!
http://www.prisonworks.org/
© Bob Slot 2007
Limit jail sentences, urges Reid
Only a short one today, the wild geese have got out again!
http://www.prisonworks.org/
© Bob Slot 2007
Tuesday 23 January 2007
The Sandwich Toaster
I remember a few years back, when I was in my youth, there was an advert that was often shown on the tv. It was for a sandwich toaster (Could have been a Breville, but my memory is not what it once was) that cut your toasted sandwiches in half and sealed them around the edges, So that they tasted twice as good!
On first seeing that advert, I became one of the converted. Of course, doubling things makes them as twice good! It's obvious isn't it! The evidence is clear to see...
When someone decides to work harder to meet a deadline they Double their efforts!
Those old Bra ad's used to talk of lifting and Separating, now that has to be a good thing surely!
And what could be nicer after a delicious meal than a lovely Banana Split?
So you see, separating, doubling and splitting things is great!
It will therefore be no surprise to you that I am looking forward to the new Home Office Split. This has to be great news! We are going to see a whole new Home office, cut in two, sealed and toasted to perfection... Ummmm I can smell it now!
I recently saw this kind of 'progress' at work, the division was under performing and so to improve our performance and consolidate our efforts we were split, from 2 to 4 Sub-Divisions.
The list of outstanding jobs doubled at about the same time, and never seems to have got any shorter. Chiefs and Indians? I don't know.
Have to go, got to sort out the separation from my wife, explain to my young son how when he is bowling to avoid a 7-10 Split and keep taking the tablets to stop my Double Vision!
Oh wait! I'm confused now.
© Bob Slot 2007
On first seeing that advert, I became one of the converted. Of course, doubling things makes them as twice good! It's obvious isn't it! The evidence is clear to see...
When someone decides to work harder to meet a deadline they Double their efforts!
Those old Bra ad's used to talk of lifting and Separating, now that has to be a good thing surely!
And what could be nicer after a delicious meal than a lovely Banana Split?
So you see, separating, doubling and splitting things is great!
It will therefore be no surprise to you that I am looking forward to the new Home Office Split. This has to be great news! We are going to see a whole new Home office, cut in two, sealed and toasted to perfection... Ummmm I can smell it now!
I recently saw this kind of 'progress' at work, the division was under performing and so to improve our performance and consolidate our efforts we were split, from 2 to 4 Sub-Divisions.
The list of outstanding jobs doubled at about the same time, and never seems to have got any shorter. Chiefs and Indians? I don't know.
Have to go, got to sort out the separation from my wife, explain to my young son how when he is bowling to avoid a 7-10 Split and keep taking the tablets to stop my Double Vision!
Oh wait! I'm confused now.
© Bob Slot 2007
Saturday 20 January 2007
Patriotism
I love my country, I also love to travel around the world and experience different cultures. In fact one day I'm going to hang a map of the world in my house. Then I'm gonna put pins into all the locations that I've traveled to. But first, I'm gonna have to travel to the top two corners of the map so it won't fall down.
But most of all, I love to return home;
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,--
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
William Shakespeare, "King Richard II", Act 2 scene 1
© Bob Slot 2007
But most of all, I love to return home;
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,--
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
William Shakespeare, "King Richard II", Act 2 scene 1
© Bob Slot 2007
Thursday 18 January 2007
Beautiful Summers Day
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
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
Tuesday 16 January 2007
Police Recruit Standards
Now, before I start I don't want to offend anyone. I have nothing against thick people and will defend with my life your right to be as stupid as you like.
Let me also say that I am not the cleverest person that ever walked the earth. If I were I would find better things to do with my time than to referee minor squabbles!
However, having said that, has anyone noticed the standard of police recruitment can be very (How shall I put it?) variable?
I will give you a recent example;
Now, I can use this example only because the person involved is no longer in the police, he thought better of it. And before you ask, no he wasn't pushed.
I am a tutor constable (For my sins) and this often leads to me having to sort out other officers problems as well as my own.
Now when a new recruit joins the police they go through rigorous testing in mental, physical and medical areas. These tests are in place to weed out those not suitable for the job. The mental tests may cover basic communication skills, reading writing etc.
After they join, they undertake approximately six months of training before being allowed out to patrol on their own, within this six months will be a few weeks patrolling with a tutor constable i.e. me ;-)
Now, one such officer was under my supervision, and needed to claim some expenses he had incurred on an earlier training course.
However, his problem was that he had not claimed the amount within the 3 month time period (Bureaucracy warning!) that he was allowed.
"No problem" says I "Just attach a form 824c (2nd Bureaucracy warning!) with a full explanation i.e. you didn't know you only had three months, they will consider it a special case and you should get the dosh"
"OK" says he, "But will you help me fill in my 824c?"
Of Course I will, and so off I go, in fine flow, with the full English language at my disposal dictating the officers plea. Words trip off my tongue in the style of Wordsworth and Chaucer, I am a literary genius at work. The officer is shocked and amazed at my command of the language, he waits with 'bated breath as each syllable is released from my mouth and floats majestically towards his eagerly awaiting lug holes.
Me "OK so you need to put, I didn't claim the expenses within the three months, cos I was not told to"
See, good aren't I?
Me "Ok got that? Now read it back to me"
Reply "I didn't claim the expenses within the three months, cos I was told not to"
Me "Erm, It's good but it's not right" (My tutor training coming in here, praise them before you tell them they are crap!) "The first thing anyone will ask you is "Who told you not to?" Obviously you were 'not told' not 'told not' "
Reply "It's the same difference"
Me "Err, no it's not actually, they mean two completely different things"
Well, I will say that I probably then spent about an hour and a half teaching the difference between 'not told' and 'told not' but in all honesty I don't think he had grasped it by the end. He eventually told me it was too early in the morning for English language lessons and we had to agree that I was right, eventually the form got filled in correctly.
It's not rocket science, but a basic standard in English is required and how this guy got through without that I will never know. And we are not talking about a young school leaver here either, this was a man in his late thirties.
Ah, well it's good to know that in the main the standard of recruit is good, however if you have that one bad one in charge of your complaint of crime, what does it make you think?
© Bob Slot 2007
Let me also say that I am not the cleverest person that ever walked the earth. If I were I would find better things to do with my time than to referee minor squabbles!
However, having said that, has anyone noticed the standard of police recruitment can be very (How shall I put it?) variable?
I will give you a recent example;
Now, I can use this example only because the person involved is no longer in the police, he thought better of it. And before you ask, no he wasn't pushed.
I am a tutor constable (For my sins) and this often leads to me having to sort out other officers problems as well as my own.
Now when a new recruit joins the police they go through rigorous testing in mental, physical and medical areas. These tests are in place to weed out those not suitable for the job. The mental tests may cover basic communication skills, reading writing etc.
After they join, they undertake approximately six months of training before being allowed out to patrol on their own, within this six months will be a few weeks patrolling with a tutor constable i.e. me ;-)
Now, one such officer was under my supervision, and needed to claim some expenses he had incurred on an earlier training course.
However, his problem was that he had not claimed the amount within the 3 month time period (Bureaucracy warning!) that he was allowed.
"No problem" says I "Just attach a form 824c (2nd Bureaucracy warning!) with a full explanation i.e. you didn't know you only had three months, they will consider it a special case and you should get the dosh"
"OK" says he, "But will you help me fill in my 824c?"
Of Course I will, and so off I go, in fine flow, with the full English language at my disposal dictating the officers plea. Words trip off my tongue in the style of Wordsworth and Chaucer, I am a literary genius at work. The officer is shocked and amazed at my command of the language, he waits with 'bated breath as each syllable is released from my mouth and floats majestically towards his eagerly awaiting lug holes.
Me "OK so you need to put, I didn't claim the expenses within the three months, cos I was not told to"
See, good aren't I?
Me "Ok got that? Now read it back to me"
Reply "I didn't claim the expenses within the three months, cos I was told not to"
Me "Erm, It's good but it's not right" (My tutor training coming in here, praise them before you tell them they are crap!) "The first thing anyone will ask you is "Who told you not to?" Obviously you were 'not told' not 'told not' "
Reply "It's the same difference"
Me "Err, no it's not actually, they mean two completely different things"
Well, I will say that I probably then spent about an hour and a half teaching the difference between 'not told' and 'told not' but in all honesty I don't think he had grasped it by the end. He eventually told me it was too early in the morning for English language lessons and we had to agree that I was right, eventually the form got filled in correctly.
It's not rocket science, but a basic standard in English is required and how this guy got through without that I will never know. And we are not talking about a young school leaver here either, this was a man in his late thirties.
Ah, well it's good to know that in the main the standard of recruit is good, however if you have that one bad one in charge of your complaint of crime, what does it make you think?
© Bob Slot 2007
Sunday 14 January 2007
Worst Police Dog in the World
I love this video, the poor dog just wants to play but they forgot the stick.
Wednesday 10 January 2007
Honoured
I have been greatly honoured by being asked to keep my own forum on the Tie Tacs Police Forums.
Thanks a lot Paul and Dave, will try to repay your confidence in me by hopefully posting a few witisms.
Read my blog forum and the other forums here
http://www.stirling-uotc.co.uk/PMTTS/
© Bob Slot 2007
Thanks a lot Paul and Dave, will try to repay your confidence in me by hopefully posting a few witisms.
Read my blog forum and the other forums here
http://www.stirling-uotc.co.uk/PMTTS/
© Bob Slot 2007
"I hate your lot!"
I was out with a friend of mine the other night; we had a couple of drinks and then things got around (As they often do) to “I hate your lot!” (It didn’t end up with “I love you” or “You’re my best mate you are” We didn’t drink quite that many)
Now, I have known this mate of mine since we were at Infants school together. We have been mates over 30 years, we have always hung around together, he was best man at my wedding etc. You might say he’s my best buddy.
He is a hardworking, tax paying man, never been arrested, perhaps had a ticket for not wearing his seatbelt once in his youth, Joe Average really, not someone with any particular axe to grind.
But yet he is very anti Police, and although I don’t particularly agree with him, I can sympathise with his point of view. Let me explain…
I was out walking with this friend of mine one day (Walking around Hills and Mountains is my passion, one of them anyway!) And on getting back to his car we discovered it to be quite badly damaged, the bumper was hanging off, someone had obviously hit him and driven off. Now he was obviously a little shocked, but then seeing that someone had left a note on his windscreen he saw a glimmer of hope.
He opened the note and read it, (No it wasn’t that old chestnut “Everyone thinks I’m leaving my details, but I’m not, so hard luck!” (That’s not a licence to use that one either by the way!)) It actually gave the registration number of the vehicle that had hit his and a bit of a summary of what had happened, all jotted down by a helpful witness.
He dropped me off at home and made plans to report it to the police, the next day I was at work and was walking through our front desk area when I bumped into my pal, he had come in to report the damage, the civilian counter clerk, seeing that I knew my friend decides ‘Ooh I might be able to left shoulder this one’ “Oh right” she says “If you know this man you can take the details for the accident report can’t you”
She was gently reminded that it was in fact her job, not mine and that since I was his friend and indeed was with him at the time of the accident, how could I possibly be seen as impartial?
Eventually she agreed, and after some raised eyebrows and a few thoughts of ‘Where has the professionalism of the police gone’ on behalf of my mate she took down his particulars (Oooh Eerr Missus) and off he went, with a freshly filled out producer form (Form HORT/1 for all in the know) because he hadn’t taken his driving licence with him.
Now when he gets home, can he find his driving licence? Can he hell! It’s disappeared into that place that things disappear into whenever it is extremely important that you find them. He applies for a new one, but obviously it doesn’t come in time for the seven day period in which he gets to produce it.
In the meantime the accident report is sent to a neighbouring rural force (We were out walking remember) to be allocated to an officer for further investigation.
Queue the long wait…. Over 3 months before he hears anything else (That Royal mail has a lot to answer for eh?) Then out of the blue an officer rings him up…
Officer “Yeah, it’s about that accident you reported”
My Mate “Oh yeah, great stuff, you got him”
Officer “No not yet, look I need some more details, where on the car was damaged?”
My Mate “Well, it was the front bumper”
Officer “Ok great, thanks that should do it, bye”
My Mate “Oh bye”
Then that’s it! That’s the end of the story.
My mate gets his car damaged by someone who can’t be arsed to leave his details, he reports it to a police employee who can only just be arsed to take some of his details down when she is ‘advised’ for trying to wangle her way out of it, she then sends it off to some other force, who sit on it for a while then give it to a bobby who either can’t be arsed to investigate it or if he has investigated it can’t be arsed to tell the victim. These are all his perceptions of the incident, but I think they are prety valid.
And what does the victim get….
A good bollocking off another counter clerk for producing his driving licence late!
So, yeah, I know where he is coming from really, and it’s a shame. If only we thought about these things a little more and worked on improving them, I’m sure we could improve the publics’ perception of the police.
If we are losing the support of people like my mate, then I think a serious think about a remedy is required. This is not his only dealings with the police and his views are not just based on this incident, however I will save the other stories for another time.
© Bob Slot 2007
Sunday 7 January 2007
C'est la vie
I was shopping the other day with my two children (Both aged under 10) when I had the misfortune to come across a real pair of losers, I will describe them for you…
Female aged about 17, 5’00” tall, about 6’00 around the waist, bleached blonde hair with coloured tints, wearing a white tracksuit top unzipped to reveal a pink cropped top allowing belly (Complete with stretch marks) to hang over tracky bottoms (3/4 Length of course) and white trainers.
Male 17-18 years 5’06” Extremely thin build. Gaunt facial features, black eye, scratch down cheek. Black tracksuit with baseball cap and hoody. Black gloves (For grafting) white Reebok classic trainers and of course tracky bottoms have to be tucked into the socks!
Both of them were wearing more gold than the
Anyway, they were obviously very lost because they were in the book section of WH Smith (Unless Tricia or Jeremy Kyle have a new book out perhaps?) They seemed to have gone there for a good argument as far as I could see.
Only it wasn’t really a good argument it was more like a…..
Him “F**kin innit, Know what a mean!”
Her “No but, yeah but no, summat or nuffink”
That seemed to be about the extent of it to be honest, but it was getting more heated and the young chap had to restrain himself from punching the book displays a couple of times, he was getting really mad.
Now I didn’t really want my two children to witness this kind of language or behaviour, if I had wanted that I would have taken them to a busy town centre on a Saturday night rather than WH Smiths book section.
I thought for a moment about saying “I say, my dear fellow, would you care to moderate your language and behave with a little more decorum in front of my children, that's a good chap”
But having thought about the possible outcomes and deciding that it was only ever going to end in few rounds of fisticuffs I decided to take the easy option and walk away.
So WH Smiths loses a sale, and society takes another step forward into the pit of shite!
C'est la vie!© Bob Slot 2007
Saturday 6 January 2007
The Secret Policeman and The Fear of not being Politically Correct
You remember back to 2003 and the secret Policeman business right?
OK, well let me say first of all, Mark Daly (Whatever you may think of him) did his job very well, and the fact that he was able to root out a few stupidly racist and bigoted police recruits was all very good stuff.
Having said that, I have never come across any racist behaviour or language from any police officers whilst I have been in the service. (Perhaps because I haven't been looking for it, I don't know)
Let me say for the record "I AM NOT A RACIST, AND TO THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE NEITHER ARE ANY OF MY COLLEAGUES" I just want to be allowed to get on with my job!
However pressure from politicians and senior officers regarding what you can and can't say and what is and isn't PC nowadays has resulted in officers being terrified of saying the wrong things.
Let me give you a perfect example that happened to me this week.... (All the names are changed)
Now I am sure you are fully aware of the great Hollywood actor Ishmael K Johnson? No? He was in that film about the serpents on a train or something and in that other film with the guy from Grease who used to dance, where they talk about cheeseburgers and shoot people, yeah you know him now, the black guy, likes to play golf, great actor. One of my favourites. (Bear with me now, I had the change to names here right!)
Now, also be aware of Ishmael Johnson the petty car thief and up and coming villain aged 17 (He is a white guy, just to clarify). Our Ishmael was in custody at my police station the other day and was awaiting me to come and deal with him, I was busy finishing off other things at this time. (Coffee and doughnuts most probably)
Please bear in mind also, that I have never met either Ishmael Johnson Car thief or Ishmael K Johnson Hollywood actor at this stage (I bet you can guess which I have met by the end of this story)
The custody Sergeant (Who happens to be black, but I mention this only because it may be pertinent to the story) decides I am taking a little too long eating my doughnuts or investigating rapes and murders or whatever it is I was doing, so decides to come to look for me.
He finds me, hands over the paperwork I need to do my job, and enquires how long I will be, on being handed the paperwork and reading the name Ishmael Johnson I remark "Oh, it's not Ishmael K Johnson is it"
His reply "YOU CAN'T SAY THAT!!!" The inference being that I had made some sort of racist remark!
WHAT???? Which bit of my question, in any way, or on any level, and on who's world could possibly be considered as racist?
I then spent the rest of my shift worried sick, and going over the two line conversation over and over again checking that I was OK. I even ran it by my colleagues several times, just to double check.
This is the kind of police service we now work in. People are terrified of saying the wrong thing, or even of saying the right thing but it being misinterpreted.
Incidentally, I am led to believe that the The Secret Policeman affair didn't just take into account racism, I am reliably informed that one officer was "moved" after making comments about David Blunketts' dog!
I wonder what would have happened if a member of the Gestapo had made disparaging remarks about Hitlers beloved German shepherd Blondi?
He would have probably been moved to the other side of the Reich, I guess.
© Bob Slot 2007
OK, well let me say first of all, Mark Daly (Whatever you may think of him) did his job very well, and the fact that he was able to root out a few stupidly racist and bigoted police recruits was all very good stuff.
Having said that, I have never come across any racist behaviour or language from any police officers whilst I have been in the service. (Perhaps because I haven't been looking for it, I don't know)
Let me say for the record "I AM NOT A RACIST, AND TO THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE NEITHER ARE ANY OF MY COLLEAGUES" I just want to be allowed to get on with my job!
However pressure from politicians and senior officers regarding what you can and can't say and what is and isn't PC nowadays has resulted in officers being terrified of saying the wrong things.
Let me give you a perfect example that happened to me this week.... (All the names are changed)
Now I am sure you are fully aware of the great Hollywood actor Ishmael K Johnson? No? He was in that film about the serpents on a train or something and in that other film with the guy from Grease who used to dance, where they talk about cheeseburgers and shoot people, yeah you know him now, the black guy, likes to play golf, great actor. One of my favourites. (Bear with me now, I had the change to names here right!)
Now, also be aware of Ishmael Johnson the petty car thief and up and coming villain aged 17 (He is a white guy, just to clarify). Our Ishmael was in custody at my police station the other day and was awaiting me to come and deal with him, I was busy finishing off other things at this time. (Coffee and doughnuts most probably)
Please bear in mind also, that I have never met either Ishmael Johnson Car thief or Ishmael K Johnson Hollywood actor at this stage (I bet you can guess which I have met by the end of this story)
The custody Sergeant (Who happens to be black, but I mention this only because it may be pertinent to the story) decides I am taking a little too long eating my doughnuts or investigating rapes and murders or whatever it is I was doing, so decides to come to look for me.
He finds me, hands over the paperwork I need to do my job, and enquires how long I will be, on being handed the paperwork and reading the name Ishmael Johnson I remark "Oh, it's not Ishmael K Johnson is it"
His reply "YOU CAN'T SAY THAT!!!" The inference being that I had made some sort of racist remark!
WHAT???? Which bit of my question, in any way, or on any level, and on who's world could possibly be considered as racist?
I then spent the rest of my shift worried sick, and going over the two line conversation over and over again checking that I was OK. I even ran it by my colleagues several times, just to double check.
This is the kind of police service we now work in. People are terrified of saying the wrong thing, or even of saying the right thing but it being misinterpreted.
Incidentally, I am led to believe that the The Secret Policeman affair didn't just take into account racism, I am reliably informed that one officer was "moved" after making comments about David Blunketts' dog!
I wonder what would have happened if a member of the Gestapo had made disparaging remarks about Hitlers beloved German shepherd Blondi?
He would have probably been moved to the other side of the Reich, I guess.
© Bob Slot 2007
Friday 5 January 2007
I Pay Your Wages!
I wonder how many times I have heard the words "I Pay your Wages!" (1) uttered. Usually as I point out a poor motorists wrongdoings, it is only topped by "Haven't you anything better to do?"(2) or "Haven't you got any burglars to catch?"(3)
These situations can often deteriorate into "I'm going to complain! You will be sitting behind a desk by the end of the week!"(4) or "I'll have your job"(5)
Now you might think that I deserve these comments if I go out of my way to persecute innocent motorists. (You might be right) However next time you get stopped by the police, just remember, I didn't stop you for nothing, and as you hurl your threats and insults at me I am probably just deciding if I can use my discretion and issue a warning for your minor infringement of the law or whether I need to put pen to paper and have a summons issued. (Nuff said?)
Incidentally the answers to the above questions are as follows;
1) Yes you may pay my wages, but since I pay my taxes so do I!
2) Yes I have better things to do, but unfortunately having to deal with you is abstracting me from those much more important duties.
3) Burglars, Yes please, do you know where there are any?
4) Great, thanks, I have been after a nice indoors 9-5 job for years.
5) You can have it now, do you think this uniform will fit you? I will have your shell suit!
© Bob Slot 2007
These situations can often deteriorate into "I'm going to complain! You will be sitting behind a desk by the end of the week!"(4) or "I'll have your job"(5)
Now you might think that I deserve these comments if I go out of my way to persecute innocent motorists. (You might be right) However next time you get stopped by the police, just remember, I didn't stop you for nothing, and as you hurl your threats and insults at me I am probably just deciding if I can use my discretion and issue a warning for your minor infringement of the law or whether I need to put pen to paper and have a summons issued. (Nuff said?)
Incidentally the answers to the above questions are as follows;
1) Yes you may pay my wages, but since I pay my taxes so do I!
2) Yes I have better things to do, but unfortunately having to deal with you is abstracting me from those much more important duties.
3) Burglars, Yes please, do you know where there are any?
4) Great, thanks, I have been after a nice indoors 9-5 job for years.
5) You can have it now, do you think this uniform will fit you? I will have your shell suit!
© Bob Slot 2007
Christmas and New Year Hangovers
Hope all the Christmas and New Year Hangovers have cleared now, especially for all the folks who attended the Christmas Do at the Kings Head Hotel in Wimborne.
Brawl at police Christmas party
Since when has a bit of a scuffle in a pub made national news? I could tell the BBC about thousands of pub fights I have attended, do you think they would be interested?
© Bob Slot 2007
Brawl at police Christmas party
Since when has a bit of a scuffle in a pub made national news? I could tell the BBC about thousands of pub fights I have attended, do you think they would be interested?
© Bob Slot 2007
Thursday 4 January 2007
The Home Office "Fighting Police Bureaucracy"
My first post of the year, Happy New Year, all the best to you and yours!
In 2004 the Home Office set up the "Policing Bureaucracy Gateway" part of a package of measures to "free up police officers' time from unnecessary bureaucracy and paperwork."
Sorry if I haven't noticed it, but in my experience it seems to be exactly the opposite.
Let us say for example that someone spilled something (Coffee most likely) on one of my uniform shirts and all the best efforts of Daz and even better New Daz failed to remove the offending stain. Now you might say to me "OK Bobby, get yourself a new shirt"
Well, getting a new shirt for me would involve the following procedure...
1) Write out a report on the correct form (Lets say a GB338 for arguments sake) explaining in full why a new shirt is required, how the old one came to be damaged and what the damage consists of.
2) Take the report and the damaged shirt to my Inspector for him/her to Inspect the damage (Do you think this is how Inspectors got their name) and then if he/she agrees that I need a replacement he/she must support the application and sign the form.
3) Get into a vehicle (My own more often than not, because I don't have access to a police vehicle) and drive the two mile journey across town to my divisional headquarters, with my damaged shirt and the report form duly signed. (You might ask why I don't walk, would you walk along carrying a coffee stained shirt and an A4 form that you needed to keep in pristine condition. We don't walk around with shopping trolleys you know! (Although that's not a bad idea for the suggestion scheme!))
4) Speak with the Divisional budget holder or the budget holders deputy in his/her absence and plead my case for a new shirt, allowing him/her to study the stain in detail for suggestions on other, cheaper ways of getting around the problem. It is at this point that my little scam is most likely to fail. My previous allocation of shirts for the past 15 years will be studied in great detail to make sure there is no pattern of staining and swapping occurring, and that I have not already taken my allocated number of shirts for the decade. If the budget holder agrees (They usually don't) then he/she has to support my application further by adding his/her signature to the form GB338. At this point I run off clutching my signed form and shouting 'fools'
5) I then have to attend the admin department taking along my signed report to the admin assistant who is in charge of the requisition form book. I am then allowed (Under the supervision of the administration assistant) to fill in (In duplicate) the next blank form in the book (Lets call this form a RQ133) In order to do this correctly I need to also study a catalogue roughly the size of several inner city telephone directories in order to obtain the correct order code for a male police officers shirt size 15" neck (Who am I trying to kid?) Once I have found the code (Something along the lines of polmalshir00015) and filled in the form correctly I can attach my form GB338 to the copy of the form RQ133 that stays in the book and detach the duplicate form RQ133 with which I can hopefully swap for a shirt.
6) However that's not all. So far I have only succeeded in being supplied with a piece of paper! I then need to get back in my vehicle and drive the two miles back to my Inspector. As his/her job title suggests he/she will then inspect my form RQ133, and assuming he/she finds it to his/her satisfaction (Assuming also that he/she hasn't gone home in the meantime) he/she will sign it authorising me to obtain a shirt.
7) I am now left with a choice, I can now send the completed form through the internal mail (in which case I will probably never see it or said shirt again) or I can drive the five miles or so to my forces' clothing and equipment stores in order to collect it myself. I think I will do the latter.
8) Drive to the clothing store, be met by several obnoxious stores staff (The word Jobsworth was invented for these guys) drinking tea and whose first comment will be "Have you got an appointment, we can't see anyone without an appointment!"
9) Lets assume here that I did phone ahead and waited the three weeks until my appointment date so can answer "Yes I do have an appointment, thank you, and what is more I also have a correctly obtained and duly signed form RQ133 allowing me to procure from you one shirt, my fine man!"
10) Hand over the form and be told "You'll be lucky pal, we've had no size 15" shirts since 1977, they are on back order, the supplier says we will 'ave 'em Tuesday week"
At this point I hand over my form (never to see or hear anything about it again most probably) go back to my place of work, get my coat on and go home.
That might sound ridiculous to you, but in all honesty it's not far from the truth. I could have probably made my own shirt in the time it takes to obtain one.
It's also worthy of note that this policy was introduced SINCE 2004! It has been brought in because of the massive deficit in funding that my force has suffered over the past few years.
Fighting Bureaucracy?
© Bob Slot 2007
In 2004 the Home Office set up the "Policing Bureaucracy Gateway" part of a package of measures to "free up police officers' time from unnecessary bureaucracy and paperwork."
Sorry if I haven't noticed it, but in my experience it seems to be exactly the opposite.
Let us say for example that someone spilled something (Coffee most likely) on one of my uniform shirts and all the best efforts of Daz and even better New Daz failed to remove the offending stain. Now you might say to me "OK Bobby, get yourself a new shirt"
Well, getting a new shirt for me would involve the following procedure...
1) Write out a report on the correct form (Lets say a GB338 for arguments sake) explaining in full why a new shirt is required, how the old one came to be damaged and what the damage consists of.
2) Take the report and the damaged shirt to my Inspector for him/her to Inspect the damage (Do you think this is how Inspectors got their name) and then if he/she agrees that I need a replacement he/she must support the application and sign the form.
3) Get into a vehicle (My own more often than not, because I don't have access to a police vehicle) and drive the two mile journey across town to my divisional headquarters, with my damaged shirt and the report form duly signed. (You might ask why I don't walk, would you walk along carrying a coffee stained shirt and an A4 form that you needed to keep in pristine condition. We don't walk around with shopping trolleys you know! (Although that's not a bad idea for the suggestion scheme!))
4) Speak with the Divisional budget holder or the budget holders deputy in his/her absence and plead my case for a new shirt, allowing him/her to study the stain in detail for suggestions on other, cheaper ways of getting around the problem. It is at this point that my little scam is most likely to fail. My previous allocation of shirts for the past 15 years will be studied in great detail to make sure there is no pattern of staining and swapping occurring, and that I have not already taken my allocated number of shirts for the decade. If the budget holder agrees (They usually don't) then he/she has to support my application further by adding his/her signature to the form GB338. At this point I run off clutching my signed form and shouting 'fools'
5) I then have to attend the admin department taking along my signed report to the admin assistant who is in charge of the requisition form book. I am then allowed (Under the supervision of the administration assistant) to fill in (In duplicate) the next blank form in the book (Lets call this form a RQ133) In order to do this correctly I need to also study a catalogue roughly the size of several inner city telephone directories in order to obtain the correct order code for a male police officers shirt size 15" neck (Who am I trying to kid?) Once I have found the code (Something along the lines of polmalshir00015) and filled in the form correctly I can attach my form GB338 to the copy of the form RQ133 that stays in the book and detach the duplicate form RQ133 with which I can hopefully swap for a shirt.
6) However that's not all. So far I have only succeeded in being supplied with a piece of paper! I then need to get back in my vehicle and drive the two miles back to my Inspector. As his/her job title suggests he/she will then inspect my form RQ133, and assuming he/she finds it to his/her satisfaction (Assuming also that he/she hasn't gone home in the meantime) he/she will sign it authorising me to obtain a shirt.
7) I am now left with a choice, I can now send the completed form through the internal mail (in which case I will probably never see it or said shirt again) or I can drive the five miles or so to my forces' clothing and equipment stores in order to collect it myself. I think I will do the latter.
8) Drive to the clothing store, be met by several obnoxious stores staff (The word Jobsworth was invented for these guys) drinking tea and whose first comment will be "Have you got an appointment, we can't see anyone without an appointment!"
9) Lets assume here that I did phone ahead and waited the three weeks until my appointment date so can answer "Yes I do have an appointment, thank you, and what is more I also have a correctly obtained and duly signed form RQ133 allowing me to procure from you one shirt, my fine man!"
10) Hand over the form and be told "You'll be lucky pal, we've had no size 15" shirts since 1977, they are on back order, the supplier says we will 'ave 'em Tuesday week"
At this point I hand over my form (never to see or hear anything about it again most probably) go back to my place of work, get my coat on and go home.
That might sound ridiculous to you, but in all honesty it's not far from the truth. I could have probably made my own shirt in the time it takes to obtain one.
It's also worthy of note that this policy was introduced SINCE 2004! It has been brought in because of the massive deficit in funding that my force has suffered over the past few years.
Fighting Bureaucracy?
© Bob Slot 2007
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