John - Police, crime & 999 : the true story of a front line officer

BROUGHT TO YOU BY KeVkRaY

Shakespeare My Butt!
Marsupial Elvis to No Place ramblings, meanderings,
digressions and a dog.

Police, Crime
& 999

the true story of a front line officer

John Donoghue

Copyright 2011 John Donoghue

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, withthe prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

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ISBN 978 1848766 853

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Printed and bound by TJ International, Padstow, Cornwall, UK

Typeset in 11pt StempelGaramond by Troubador Publishing Ltd, Leicester, UK

Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

Table of Contents

For Bethan

This may sound like a bad Oscar speech, but I have some people to thank.

Firstly, I want to thank all my friends and colleagues in the police, particularly on E shift, without whom Id have no material to write about. Ive been told by the hierarchy not to mention any names, but when you read on, youll know who you are, except, that is, if you are deeply offended by your portrayal, in which case youve made a mistake and its meant to be someone else probably. Anyway, I have enjoyed working with you all. Well, most of you (its a joke!).

Next, there are the kind group of people who, despite having better things to do, devoted their valuable time to help me with the draft manuscript. This help has taken the form of wearing pencilsdown to a nub correcting my many errors, photocopying endless drafts at their workplace instead of mine, advising what anecdotes Id better leave out to avoid the risk of a disciplinary (and not taking offence when I ignored them), offering constant encouragement and occasionally, just occasionally, giving me a biscuit.

I can name these people, and so I will. Thanks to Sharon, Diane, Maggie, Nancy, Glynda, Lysa, Elizabeth and Jemima. I am indebted to you all. Not financially though, I just want to make that clear.

Then, there is the highly talented Rich Endean aka The Creative Agent. I actually am indebted to him financially.

Finally, Im well aware that, generally, people only read the acknowledgements to find out if they are in them. So, if youve read this far and not had a mention already, then consider yourself mentioned now as I thank you, dear reader, for pickingup this book; you now hold in your hands my tales from the sharp end of the Fuzz. If you are in the police yourself, Im sure that many of the incidents, escapades and bizarre calls wont come as any surprise to you. If you arent though, be prepared to find out what really happens behind the scenes in thepolice as all is revealed before your astonished face. Thats not meant to sound conceited, by the way, it just sounded a bit comical when I wrote it.

I hope you enjoy the book.

John Donoghue

www.policecrime999.com

Someone once said that a policemans lot is not a happy one, however, I beg to differ. Despite all the drunkenness and cruelty, crime and disorder, the job has the potential to be fun a lot of fun.

There is a tale of two police officers who went to the house of an elderly lady to take a statement from her. She made them both a cup of tea and ushered them into the front room where they all sat, discussing the purpose of their call. As they talked, the door was nudged open and a German Shepherd dog pottered into the middle of the room. The dog looked around and then proceeded to squat down and, with his back legs all a-quiver, deposited a fresh steaming turd on the lounge room carpet. The police officers exchanged sideways glances but didnt say anything. After all, it was the womans house and everyone has different standards it wasnt up to them to admonish the hound. They looked over at the house owner but she just acted as if nothing had happened. Instead, she avoided looking at the dirty beast and his doings, picked up her cup of tea, took a sip and continued to politely chat to the officers. Meanwhile, the dog, having completed his ablutions, sauntered back out of the room.

Twenty minutes later and ready to leave, the officers curiosity had finally got the better of them. As they thanked the lady for the tea, one of them felt compelled to enquire why she hadnt said anything when her dog had come into the room and pooped on the floor.

My dog? replied the old woman. I thought he was your dog!

*

I have served my Queen and Country in the military, been both a sailor and a soldier, and travelled the world from the Gulf of Mexico to the Arabian Sea. Ive seen the majesty of the Northern Lights, experienced a desert night sky fall and roll the whole day over, been frozen in the Arctic and almost got heat stroke inAfrica. Ive suffered sleep deprivation in Germany, dehydration in Djibouti, been shot at in Puerto Rico and kicked in the Urals. But nowhere, nowhere I tell you, have I ever come across a dog entering a room, having a shit, and no one saying a word!

Like most men my age, I was forty. Since leaving the Armed Forces I had spent the last few years as a manager for a large international security consortium. It may sound like a shady organisation straight out of a James Bond movie; staffed by Pussy Galore and presided over by Dr Evil plotting world domination but, believe me, it wasnt.

If I use phrases such as quarterly budget review and sales growth forecast, youll get an idea how action packed and exhilarating my days had now become. As the rest of the world had celebrated the arrival of the twenty-first century, I just realised I was stuck in a job I hated. I was bored and needed some excitement in my life again. Whilst some men might have an affair with a Latvian lap dancer, learn to play the guitar, get a pair of aviator sunglasses or buy a fancy motorcycle, after hearing about the pooping German Shepherd, I knew there was just one answer to my own personal dilemma. Join the police!

I put my notice in, handed back the keys to my company car, got a girl round to flog my semi and cancelled my subscription to Networking and Deadline Quarterly (incorporating Downsize monthly magazine).

So it was that a year later I found myself on parade as the newest (and possibly oldest) recruit to the forces of law and order, swearing the oath of allegiance, being presented with my warrant card and being sworn into the office of Constable (so named in order to amuse children and drunks the world over).