A good, old-fashioned story caught my eye on the BBC website.
It's about poison pen letters doing the rounds in a York suburb, and could have been lifted from an Agatha Christie novel.
The writer signs his name 'John', but PC Vicky Fickling says that may not be his real name.
Bless her, with those impressive powers of deduction a career in CID surely awaits.
www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-york-north-yorkshire-14983451
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>> Bless her, with those impressive powers of deduction a career in CID surely awaits.
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Iffy, believe me, there are plenty of people in this world who you have to 'spoon feed' everything..and I do mean literally everything.
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...Iffy, believe me, there are plenty of people in this world who you have to 'spoon feed' everything..and I do mean literally everything....
I agree, and that includes journalists.
I once went to a press conference at Sunderland's Gill Bridge Avenue police station called to issue an appeal for help to locate a shotgun killer who was on the run.
One of the hacks asked the Detective Superintendent if he thought the wanted man might be in London.
"If I knew where he was," the copper replied. "We wouldn't be here, would we?"
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>> "If I knew where he was," the copper replied. "We wouldn't be here, would we?"
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Quality
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...Quality...
That's what we thought.
Just to complete the story, the conference was held in the (now shut) police club, which had just been used to brief the troops.
One of them left a diagram of the crime scene on a table, the diagram included the location of recovered spent cartridges.
This enabled me to ask one of those questions to which I already knew the answer: "Do I understand correctly that three shots were fired?"
You'll not be surprised to learn the killer was found within 24 hours in a bed and breakfast just four miles away.
Big noise on his estate in Sunderland, but gets a nose bleed if he leaves the patch.
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Slight thread drift here.. sorry..but i've just remembered a classic howler.
In the past I had a fellow sergeant colleague who shared an office with the Inspector and the Insp was a stickler for things being done 'right'. The sergeant however, was not...... so they had a huge run in.
The sergeant came in to the office the next day, with his kit bag, threw it down on the desk and spent 15 minutes moaning to a PC about 'Inspector Weary'.
That afternoon, the Insp called the sergeant in...and played back the answer machine on the desk, that had a record facility, that the sergeants kit bag had turned on.. the whole conversation was on it.
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On a similar note....
A newspaper carrying out reader research decided people would not speak frankly about the paper if they thought they were speaking directly to editorial staff.
So a plan was hatched to use a researcher whose desk was in front of a couple of portable panels.
The editor would sit incognito behind one of the panels, listening to what was said.
But the plan fell out of bed because the editor smoked a pipe and the reader saw a plume of smoke rising from behind the panel.
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In that not to distant past a new recruit had been posted to their Division where for their probationary period they are under the charge of a Sergeant from the Professional Development Unit.
Well this recruit with the best will in the word was not going to make a Copper and it was a wrong career choice. But as is nowadays they were given every opportunity and some more to make the grade which was testing the patience and temperment of the very mild mannered Sgt and colleagues to the n'th degree. They could not just make the decision to resign (admittedly not an easy step to take when you have made such a career choice and gone through so much).
Anyway one day the recruit was engaged in telephone conversation with the Sgt on his mobile phone once again testing the Sgt's patience to the limit. The conversation was terminated and after the Sgt placed his phone in his top pocket he then proceeded to use every expletive under the sun, to vent his frustration, culmination in something like, " Why doesn't the ****in banker do us all a favour and just ****in resign."
Having had his cathartic release he then heard a faint voice coming from his shirt pocket, "Sarge, Sarge can you hear me?" Yes, he had not properly terminated the call. "Suppose you heard all that ?" enquired the Sarge. "Yes" was the reply.
Resigned not long after and found a niche more suited to their talents.
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Done my stretch WP. Wouldn't have wanted to get rid of such a valuble resource would they?? :-]
Last edited by: Fullchat on Thu 22 Sep 11 at 23:10
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>>Resigned not long after
Constructive dismissal case that. He'd have won it.
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>> >> "If I knew where he was," the copper replied. "We wouldn't be here, would
>> we?"
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>> Quality
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I'm not sure whether you are saying the copper's remark was a nice put-down or inane stupidity.
London's quite a big place. Suggesting he might have gone there is like saying they had lost him.
I know where this needle is - it's in the haystack, stupid!
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...I'm not sure whether you are saying the copper's remark was a nice put-down or inane stupidity...
The copper's remark was a nice put down, and the hack's question was a daft one.
The rest of us enjoyed the exchange.
Having said that, from a reporter's point of view it's difficult to come up with a sensible question in these circumstances, but you feel you ought to ask something.
It is what it is, the police hand out copies of a photo - the original was supplied by us anyway - and say they are seeking the public's help in finding the person.
There's not much more to add.
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>> .
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>> There's not much more to add.
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Except that they were asking for information locally.
It's a reasonable question, do you think he is still somewhere in the area, or have you any reason to widen your search?
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Reminded me of an incident many years ago.
As a new Constable, I was being walked round a City beat by an old officer who'd got out of bed on the wrong side.
We were in St Ann's Square when a guy came up and asked where St.Ann's Passage was.
" Same place as yours, mate " said the officer.
I don't know the result of the inevitable complaint !
Ted
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I got stopped in the early hours of one morning and was asked 'where have you come from?'
'Cerney Wick', I honestly replied.
'Where's that?' BIB asked.
'Near South Cerney'.
'I've got several hours of my shift left, how long do you want to stay here?'
We eventually parted on reasonably good terms.
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...I've got several hours of my shift left, how long do you want to stay here?'...
I was talking to a copper I knew in the early afernoon of a Christmas Eve in Durham City.
There was something of a party atmosphere with groups of office workers wandering from pub to pub.
One young lad wobbled up to us and began behaving in a tiresome way, as only drunks can.
The copper told him: "Carry on like that and you just watch me ruin your day."
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Call Miss Marple - Westpig
