Police, Arrests & Suspects

John Donoghue

Description

FACT is stranger than FICTION on the front line... Who's afraid of the Ginger Bread Man? Why do police like big busts? How can a priest assist in a violent robbery? When does Hitler figure in police negotiations? Why can making mashed potato get you arrested? When do police deploy the banana phone? What happens when you die if CSI don't like you? Come on patrol with PC Donoghue and discover the funny, interesting and bizarre side of life on the front line of British policing. Police, Arrests & Suspects is the third fascinating account of a front line police response officer in 'The True Story of a Front Line Officer' series. John's books remain hugely popular today, with over 600 5-star Amazon reviews combined. WARNING: Contains Humour & Traces of Nuts

Sujets

• True crime

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 28 octobre 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781785894121
• Langue: English

Extrait

POLICE, ARRESTS & SUSPECTS
The True Story of a Front Line Officer
John Donoghue

Copyright © 2015 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, with the 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.
Matador
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Wistow Road, Kibworth Beauchamp,
Leicestershire. LE8 0RX
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Email: [e-mail]
Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador
Twitter: @matadorbooks
ISBN 978 1785894 121
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Printed and bound in the UK by TJ International, Padstow, Cornwall
Typeset in StempelGaramond Roman by Troubador Publishing Ltd
Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

Converted to eBook by EasyEPUB

For Bethan
Contents

Cover


Acknowledgements


About the Author


Other books by John Donoghue


Chapter 1


Chapter 2


Chapter 3


Chapter 4


Chapter 5


Chapter 6


Chapter 7


Chapter 8


Chapter 9


Chapter 10


Chapter 11


Chapter 12


Chapter 13


Chapter 14


Chapter 15


Chapter 16


Chapter 17
Acknowledgements
When I first set out to write this book, I bought myself a new thesaurus. However, it was poor. Very poor. Very, very poor. In fact, I have no words to describe how disappointed I was!
So, it will come as no surprise that I’ve had invaluable help from a select band of talented people that I should acknowledge here otherwise they may be after me for money.
A special thanks to:

Sharon: Walking Thesaurus & Singing Dictionary.
Your help and assistance in this project has been invaluable and is greatly appreciated.
Honourable mentions go to:
Rich: Director of First Impressions.
Jane: Ambassador of Buzz.
Margot: Cowboy Junkie.
Nancy: Tea & Biscuits.
I could go on, so I will.
As always, I wouldn’t be able to write about my escapades in the police without my colleagues on E shift. Thanks to them and all who serve the noble cause on The Thin Blue Line.
I also need to add that the views expressed herein are my own and not endorsed by any constabulary. As ever, names and places have been changed to protect the guilty, but if you do think you recognise yourself and you’re not happy with your portrayal, then you’re probably wrong, and I’m not the John Donoghue that you actually think I am. In fact, if you are offended by anything in the book, then I’m offended at how easily offended you are, and, for your information, from now on I will only accept criticism in the form of song. If, however, you like the book then, yes, it really is me!
These are my own tales from the sharp end of the fuzz, but every police officer has a wealth of stories to tell, so buy them a pint or a cup of tea and I’m sure they’ll happily share them with you.
Finally, thanks to you, dear reader, for taking the time to pick up this book/kindle (delete as applicable). It’s no use being a Writer of Wrongs unless someone actually reads about it.
I hope you enjoy.
John Donoghue
About the Author
John Donoghue never set out to be a writer… he wanted to be a sailor… and a soldier… and a policeman.
He has been all of the above and has written four books covering his escapades so far…
He is still a serving police officer.
Other books by John Donoghue
Police Books
( The True Story of a Front Line Officer series )
Police, Crime & 999
Police, Lies & Alibis
*
Humour / Travel
Shakespeare My Butt!
‘Marsupial Elvis’ to ‘No Place’… ramblings, meanderings, digressions… and a dog
Chapter 1
Drive Time
“January the first already,” commented Gwen, momentarily glancing towards me as she held onto the steering wheel. “And so begins another year of policing for the men and women of E shift.”
It was dusk and we were navigating our way around the town centre ring road. Gwen was driving and I was looking out at the shoppers, wrapped up against the cold, scurrying from shop to shop, their bags laden with bargains. Occasionally, one would dart across the zebra crossing to get to another sale on the other side of the road, causing the cars in front to brake hard. I pondered over why so many pedestrians seem to confuse right of way with immortality .
All the cars, meanwhile, were driving very carefully, rigidly adhering to the speed limit. It could only mean one of two things: perhaps all of the driver’s good underwear was in the wash or everyone becomes a model driver when there is a police car right behind them. Mind you, I’m the same; even when I’m in a police car if there’s a traffic cop behind me I drive like I’m back in training school.
Some are more careful than others though, and the elderly couple we had let out at a junction a while back were hesitantly crawling up Central Avenue in their Rover Connoisseur; driving so slowly that a man walking in front of their car waving a red flag wouldn’t have looked out of place. We were directly behind and were randomly illuminated by their brake lights as they tabbed on them every so often for no particular reason. A long tailback of traffic was growing in our wake.
“What the…” exclaimed Gwen suddenly, glancing in the rear-view mirror. “Some maniac’s overtaking all the cars behind and speeding towards us on the wrong side of the carriageway.”
I pushed myself up in my seat to catch a glimpse of what she was looking at, but I needn’t have bothered as the offending vehicle sped past us, coughing up road debris.
“Worth a pull!” we both remarked at the same time and, as Gwen pulled out around the car in front, I hit the lights and siren. The shortest ever police car chase then ensued as the vehicle immediately pulled over, mounting the kerb in the process. Gwen pulled up behind and I got out to speak with the driver.
With blue strobes slicing through the air, I approached the sporty BMW and knocked on the driver’s window. The woman inside looked over at me and I did a winding motion with my hand, requesting her to lower the glass so I could speak to her. A button was pressed and, with a gentle purr, the window was lowered releasing warmth from the vehicle, as well as the unmistakable strains of Cameo blasting from the stereo. I nearly enquired if you could still wave your hands in the air if you did care, but thought better of it.
“Could you turn the ignition and the radio off, please?” I shouted over the noise. She partially complied with my request by turning the engine off and lowering the volume.
“And how can I help you today, Officer?”
“Do you know why I pulled you over?”
“Well, I’m a 36DD, so I think so,” she answered confidently.
I was immediately taken aback. I’d never encountered a response like that before. Usually, people either sheepishly admit their offence and hope they’ll get away with a warning, or categorically deny that they’ve ever done anything wrong in their entire lives. I chose to ignore her comment and continued with my line of questioning.
“Madam, do you know how fast you were driving?”
“To be honest with you, Officer, I’m more concerned with whether you know how fast I was going.”
Touché. I hadn’t had time to check our own speed let alone hers. I decided to proceed to safer ground: Gwen had seen her suddenly pull out, and I’d seen her driving on the wrong side of the road and speeding past the other motorists.
“You were also driving erratically, madam.”
“Don’t you mean erotically , darling?”
I felt like I had suddenly been transported to the set of a Carry On film.
“No, madam, I don’t mean erotically. And, to compound matters, you’re not even wearing a seat belt.”
“Well, Officer, how are you supposed to see my boobs if I do?”
There she goes again!
“I’m going to have to check your documents.”
“And by ‘documents’, I presume you mean these titaaaays…” She accompanied her statement with a thrust of her chest in my general direction – the contents of her low-cut dress wobbling like jellies on a plate as she did so. I stood in silence at the door of her car, whilst looking desperately over at Gwen for moral support. My colleague, however, simply smiled back at me through the windscreen of the panda car, completely oblivious to my plight.
“Madam, can you take a seat in the back of my car, please?”
“Oooh, you are forward, you naughty boy!”
If this had been anywhere else, I would have given as good as I got, but I was on duty, in uniform, at the side of a road, talking to someone about possible driving offences. I surreptitiously glanced around to check that I wasn’t on some kind of hidden camera show. I tried my best to maintain my professionalism but, despite the cold, I could feel my face flushing.
The woman slowly got out of her vehicle; an expensive looking high-heeled shoe emerged first, followed by a shapely leg. As she extracted herself from the confines of her BMW, her short dress rode up, revealing a fleeting sight of a lacy black stocking top. I turned away to give her some privacy, but I was certain that she must have done it on purpose as she giggled when she asked me if I had caught a snatch of a glimpse.
“It wasn’t that short!” I replied defensively, before realising I had got the words of her question in the wrong order. When I turned around again, she was stood before me in a short black cocktail dress, her long red hair tumbling over her shoulders like a communist falling down a hill. I motioned towards the police vehicle and indicated for her to get in.
“You’re stagge