G Class 5/90. Purple Intake

Memory lane.

Anybody out there recognise anyone?

I wish I was still in the same shape.

Back row....left to right....first names only.

Terry, George, Phil, Dave, Paul.

Middle row.

Jane, John, Neil, Tom, Simon, Jenny.

Front row.

Fran, Sgt Mark Adams, can't remember, god knows, PC Eric Bailey, Maureen, Louise.

Memories.

Terry. Top bloke from Romford. Wife makes a lovely chilli. Voted most handsome male in class by the ladies.

George. Sadly, the only one I'm still in touch with. Diamond bloke.

Phil. Funniest guy in class. Always clowning around. Damn near got me kicked out after dragging Jenny into the blokes changing rooms at swimming only to find the School Chief Supt stood in his towel.

Dave. From Bristol. Liked keerbaarbs. Never should've let John cut yor hair bud.

Paul. Good man. Strong as an ox. Did good impershonation of Shaun Connery as Bond.

Jane. Lovely lass.

John. Baby of the class. From Plymouth.

Neil. Posh lad. Nice bloke. Good cook. Invited the whole class to his home in Enfield and cooked us all a meal. Had a police teddy bear which got kidnapped and held to ransom. He had to parade outside the peel statue with one trouser leg rolled up holding a bog brush to get it back.

Tom. Always messing around in class. Got us all doing a mexican wave with our name tag boards affixed to thedesks while some boring old chap tried to teach us what to do in the event of a nuclear war.
Managed to fit cheesy bells, fishy smells into a question he asked him.

Simon. The mild mannered man. His ex flat mate was Mark Limahl, lead singer of Kajagoogoo.

Jenny. Lovely friendly Welsh lass. Sorry about the changing room incident.

Fran. Ahhh......Wee Fran. From the Highlands of Scotland. I'll never forget the day we were on parade and as we made to march off one of her suspenders went and her stocking rolled down as we plodded along. Now that was funny....
Transferred to North Yorks police.

Sgt Adams. Born again god squadder.

PC Bailey. The original old sweat.

Maureen. Was class Captain for a while until we had a revolution and got moved classes. Uni graduate. Very friendly when on the sauce......

Lou. Quiet as a mouse. Got top student award for having to try so hard.

If it jogs anyones memory can anyone recall our class motto......?

Insurgent with a mortar tube, only dropped once.

I think he'll find out if God is great now...!

Farewell PC Copperfield.

So........Now we know.

Watched the show. The truth was spoken. Will anything change?

I doubt it.

I'm green with envy as to where he's heading.

Enjoy yourself DC.

Take care and watch out for bears.

You might be a Copper if......

Another classic I wish I'd penned myself.


You might be a copper if...


You have the bladder capacity of five people.

You have ever restrained someone and it wasn't a sexual experience.

You believe that 75% of people are a waste of space. (Only 75%?)

Your idea of a good time is an armed robbery at shift change.

You call for a name check on anyone who is remotely friendly to you.

Discussing dismemberment over dinner seems perfectly normal to you.

You find humour in other peoples stupidity.

You have your weekends off planned for a year.

You believe the government should require a permit to reproduce.

You believe that unspeakable evils will befall you if anyone says "God its quiet today."

Whenever you phone someone, you ask them "Are you free to speak."

Your diet consists of food that has gone through more processing than a computer can track.

You're the only sober person in the kebab house.

You believe chocolate is a food group.

Having alcohol at 7am seems perfectly normal.

You have ever wanted to hold a seminar called "Suicide, getting it right the First time."

You believe "Too stupid to live" should be a valid court outcome.

When you mention vegetables, you're not referring to a food group.

You think caffeine should be available in IV form.

Your prisoner states "I have no idead how I got here" - and neither have you.

You end normal conversations with Roger or Acknowledged.

You believe the carpet bombing of certain areas of your beat is a viable alternative to policing.

You believe that some crimes can be sorted out with a damned good kicking.

Your favourite hallucinogen is exhaustion.

You are the only person who ever uses the word 'liaise.'

Your partner tells you off for walking with your hands behind your back.

At lease once every working day you use the phrase, "The Job's f*cked."

You regularly say "With all due respect Sir" but mean nothing of the sort.

You have a nose finely tuned to the smells of cannabis, decomposition and stale body odour.

You think Thursday is the best night to go into town for a drink with your mates.

You nodded and laughed at all of the above and realised what a sick bunch we all are.

Being a Police Officer in the UK.

This was sent to me by a friend and colleague and had me in stitches so I thought I'd share it.



Question:

How do you tell the difference between a British Police Officer an Australian Police Officer and an American Police Officer?

Answer:

Consider the following scenario:

You're walking down a deserted street with your wife and two small children.
Suddenly, a dangerous looking man with a huge knife comes around the corner, locks eyes with you, screams obscenities, raises the knife, and charges.
You are carrying a Glock 40, and you are an expert shot.
You have mere seconds before he reaches you and your family.
What do you do?

UK POLICE OFFICERS Answer!

Well, that's not enough information to answer the question!
Does the man look poor or oppressed?
Have I ever done anything to him that would inspire him to attack?
Could we run away?
What does my wife think?
What about the kids?
Could I possibly swing the gun like a club and knock the knife out of his hand?
What does the law say about this situation?
Does the Glock have appropriate safety built into it?
Why am I carrying a loaded gun anyway, and what kind of message does this send to society and to my children?
Is it possible he'd be happy with just killing me?
Does he definitely want to kill me, or would he be content just to wound me?
If I were to grab his knees and hold on, could my family get away while he was stabbing me?Should I call 999?
Why is this street so deserted?
We need to raise taxes, have a paint and weed day and make this a happier, healthier street that would discourage such behaviour.
If I raise my gun and he turns and runs away, do I get blamed when he falls over running away, knocks his head and kills himself?
If I shoot him, and lose the court case does he have the opportunity to sue me, cost me my job, my credibility and I will lose my family home?

AUSTRALIAN OFFICERS Answer:

BANG!

AMERICAN OFFICERS Answer:

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! Click....
(Sounds of reloading)
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! Click.
Daughter: "Nice grouping, Dad! Were those the Winchester Silver Tips?"

Smoke and mirrors

Yet another example of the brass spouting about reducing crime.
Hundreds of new bobbies my arse.
Neighbourhood Policing Teams or NPT's as they are known were already there. They were called Community Policing Teams (CPT's). There aren't hundreds of em either. The majority of areas have one bobby and one or more PCSO's.
I suppose from a distance they look like bobbies!
They spent a fortune hiring a bloody footy stadium to publicise the farce and have given out numbers to call to "speak direct to your local bobby."
In reality Joe P gets the highly trained call handlers (yeah right!) who haven't got a clue who the local bobby is or how to reach him.
Good thinking with that one. Switchboard is now jammed solid.
If only the public knew the chances of actually getting to see a police officer in person are close to zero. A real PC has become a rare sight.
The large majority of calls that come into a control room are complaints about disorder. Groups of up to fifty youths drinking, fighting, riding motorbikes and causing damage.
What do we do with em?
Pass them on to the council street wardens!
What the hell do they expect a couple of civvies in yellow coats to do with em apart from become a target?
The day is fast approaching when the police will cease to exist and we'll just have different politically correct inept civilian groups in its place.
Don't agree? Here's some examples for you from what I've seen in 17 years.
Traffic cops.
Reduced in numbers and replaced by cameras and the shiny new highways agency. I like the words of Jeremy Clarkson. "The Yorkshire Ripper wasn't caught by a speed camera. It was a routine traffic stop."
Bobbies in various departments :-
Control room. Replaced by civvies.
Custody. Now virtually all civvies except for Sgt and he's going soon.
Frontline. Numbers drastically cut by Street Wardens and PCSO's.
Station Officer. Replaced by civvies including a completely civvy outfit for property called Reliance.
Parking offences. Powers removed from police to local councils.
Prisoner transport. From police to Securicor.
Pretty soon we'll be getting auctioned at Sotheby's with the rest of the antiques of bygone days.

The Twat in the hat. Part 2.

Sitting at home, I'm all full of glee.
The reason? To Ibiza go my family and me.
Two weeks of fun in the sun is the aim,
To forget about work, yes I know. Its a pain.

But what has become of the Twat in the hat?
And Dick 1 and Dick 2, those 3 scheming rats.
The Twat? He's promoted. Yes he has moved on.
Dick 1? Yes the same. She too has now gone.

Poor old Dick 2. He can't take any more.
He's put in a transfer to walk out the door.
Franky is still there. He's been wise to their tricks.
They couldn't outwit him. Those three sad, sad twits.

So that's it for 2 weeks, alas I must go,
Though knowing my luck it'll probably snow!
Till then, my pen, in my suitcase its packed.
Till the end of July. Adios. Senor Fact.

I should've been a scuzzer!

My world has gone mad again!
Just to cap off a really shite few months the following happens.
My 17 yr old son has just lost his job and has been told he can't have any benefits as he's too young and lives in a nice area with parents who work!
If you've got a criminal record or you take drugs then you qualify!
I need a break says I so I decide to book a family holiday abroad that includes the last 8 days of my 10 yr old sons school term, you know, when all the teachers are in wind down mode and all you do at school is play.
The headmistress has told my wife who works at the school during lunch times that a letter is being sent to the educational social worker!!!
Oh yeah.
My Mrs.
She's been told that she has to choose between the holiday and her job!!
What the hell is it that we're all working for?
I wonder if I should bring a suitcase stuffed with fags back and open a dodgy shop?

From Joe 90's blog. A fine tribute.

'And I never passed a cry for help,
though at times I shook with fear,
and sometimes, God, forgive me,
i've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place
among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
except to calm their fear.'
'There was silence all around the throne
where saints had often trod,
as the policeman waited quietly,
for the judgement of his God,
"Step forward now Policeman.
You've bourne your burdens well.
Come walk a beat on heaven's streets,
you've done your time in hell.'

An amusing tale.

Apologies for not posting for a while. Things have been.......emotional.

A friend sent me this today so I thought I'd share it.

If you ever testify in court, you might wish you could have been as sharp as this policeman. He was being cross examined by a defense solicitor during a trial. The lawyer was trying to undermine the policeman's credibility....

Q: "Officer, did you see my client fleeing the scene?"

A: "No sir. But I subsequently observed a person matching the description of the offender, running several blocks away."

Q: "Officer, who provided this description?"

A: "The officer who responded to the scene."

Q: "A fellow officer provided the description of this so-called offender. Do you trust your fellow officers?"
A: "Yes, sir. With my life."

Q: "With your life? Let me ask you this then officer. Do you have a room where you change your clothes in preparation for your daily duties?"

A: "Yes sir, we do!"

Q: "And do you have a locker in the room?"

A: "Yes sir, I do."

Q: "And do you have a lock on your locker?"

A: "Yes sir."

Q: "Now why is it, officer, if you trust your fellow officers with your life, you find it necessary to lock your locker in a room you share with these same officers?"

A: "You see, sir, we share the building with the court complex, and sometimes lawyers have been known to walk through that room."

The courtroom erupted in laughter, and a prompt recess was called.