Another Constable

In the excellent “Policeman’s Blog”, the author David Copperfield defines the distinction between “good jobs” and “crap jobs”.

After only a few weeks service, I am already discovering that this observation is spot on! I’ve also noticed that being the new probationer on the block, and working neighbourhood rather than response means that I get mostly crap jobs. To be honest though, I knew that was what I was letting myself in for, and I have no illusions. Also, I don’t actually mind - believe it or not!

The way I see it, crap jobs need doing. If I can do them with diligence and enthusiasm (as perhaps only a new out of the box bobby can muster) then I’m providing people with a good service. To the person ringing the police, they have no concept of crap jobs and good jobs. They just need something sorting, and if I can sort it, I will endeavour to do so. Of course, I still look forward to and enjoy doing good jobs over crap jobs any day of the week.

Today, I dealt mostly with crap jobs. That was until I saw a lad looking “a bit sus” in a location that intelligence suggests is being used for the supply of class A drugs. The lad watched us as we passed, and as we went around the block, he saw us and took off on his toes, to a waiting bicycle nearby and under a subway that we were unable to pass in a vehicle, and he was too far away to bother on foot. I got to call up our local drugs dog (by definition this is now starting to become a “good job!”) and had him scour the bushes where the lad was hiding as I believe he was there for a pick up or a drop off. The dog however, never found anything.

Fifteen minutes later, I saw the same lad again, walking away from us. As we neared and were about to pounce, he caught a glimpse of us and again was off on his toes into some nearby woods. I was a lot closer this time and managed to chase him into the woods where I lost sight of him and he went to ground. Again I called our local dog man out (he has 2 dogs) and this time we utilised his other dog - his tracker. Unfortunately though, we picked up his trail to find that the footprints turned to bike tyre tracks, and again he had made good his escape by virtue of a hidden bicycle.

I was by this time soaking wet, covered in mud, and half the area strength had come to assist in the search. I still have no idea why this lad was so desparate not to talk to us. I’m sure we will meet again.

So at the end of it, after starting with such promise, it still ended up by definition as a “crap job” (no prisoner). It was a hell of a lot of fun though!