Police, Crime & 999

John Donoghue

Description

Ever wondered what really happens behind the scenes in the police? What bizarre 999 calls are made to the emergency services? Why can wearing two pairs of socks make you a suspect? What is the link between police and vampires? Which Royal arrest never made news headlines? What covert sign do officers make when they no longer wish to talk to you? After successful careers in both the military and business, John Donoghue realised that the higher you get in any organisation, the less fun you have. So, after handing back his expense account and company car, he joined the police in search of excitement and thrills... and discovered some surprising answers to these puzzling questions. PC John Donoghue reveals all in his fascinating and hilarious true account of a year in the life of a front line response officer. Names and places have been changed to protect the guilty... but if you call the police, maybe, just maybe, it could be Police Constable John Donoghue turning up at your door. This book will appeal to anyone interested in crime and police, as well as fans of autobiographies and humour.

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 01 août 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 2
• EAN13: 9781848768840
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

About the author:

After serving in the military and as a private security consultant, John Donoghue joined the police. He is currently a serving officer who has yet to be sacked for his indiscretions (information correct at time of going to press). He also wishes to add that none of the views or opinions expressed in this book are endorsed by any constabulary. Oh dear
This is his second book.
Other books by John Donoghue:
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.
Matador 5 Weir Road Kibworth Beauchamp Leicester LE8 0LQ, UK Tel:( 44) 116 279 2299 Fax: ( 44) 116 279 2277 Email: [e-mail] Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador
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
About the Author
Adcard Page
Acknowledgements
Introduction
CHAPTER ONE: Response
CHAPTER TWO: Here Come The Fuzz
CHAPTER THREE: Death
CHAPTER FOUR: Celebration
CHAPTER FIVE: If Carlsberg MadeShit Days
CHAPTER SIX: Drugs Raid
CHAPTER SEVEN: Forensics
CHAPTER EIGHT: Custody
CHAPTER NINE: Who Lives in a Neighbourhood Like This?
CHAPTER TEN: The Bomber
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Court
CHAPTER TWELVE: Burglary
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Injury
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Roaring Days
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: BOBO
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: School
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Bad Dog
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Jumper
CHAPTER NINETEEN: Dracula
CHAPTER TWENTY: Monday s Experts
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: Christmas
For Bethan
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
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 I d have no material to write about. I ve been told by the hierarchy not to mention any names, but when you read on, you ll know who you are, except, that is, if you are deeply offended by your portrayal, in which case you ve made a mistake and it s meant to be someone else probably. Anyway, I have enjoyed working with you all. Well, most of you (it s 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 I d 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, I m well aware that, generally, people only read the acknowledgements to find out if they are in them. So, if you ve 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, I m sure that many of the incidents, escapades and bizarre calls won t come as any surprise to you. If you aren t though, be prepared to find out what really happens behind the scenes in thepolice as all is revealed before your astonished face. That s 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
INTRODUCTION
Someone once said that a policeman s 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 didn t say anything. After all, it was the woman s house and everyone has different standards - it wasn t 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 hadn t 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. I ve 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. I ve 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 wasn t.
If I use phrases such as quarterly budget review and sales growth forecast , you ll 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).
I would also be known to some as a Bobby after Sir Robert Peel, who first invented the idea of a uniformed service to police the streets back in 1829. Some might even call us the Bill after (and I m guessing here) someone named William who helped Peel set up the Force in the first place. It seems perfectly reasonably to speculate that as William got older, people then felt justified in calling us the Old Bill. His other mates who assisted in the initial establishment of the service were presumably named Fuzz, Filth, Pig, Rozzer, Five-O, Babylon and Black Bastard.
After the obligatory two years pounding the beat on foot, I eventually took the month long police driving course. Four weeks were spent driving at breakneck speeds across the highways and byways of Britain, around the skid pan at headquarters and on blue light runs through the busy rush-hour traffic. When we weren t blue lighting, we had to obey the 30 mph limit, but out of town we had a training exemption from any speed regulations and were encouraged to push the car to its limits and we did. We d drive for breakfast in the Lake District, take afternoon tea in the Highlands of Scotland and then speed down South to get chips for supper. It was a totally different driving technique compared to what I d been used to - driving to the system - and most of the time I thought I d never get the hang of it. On some runs, I d even be required to provide a running commentary as I drove: what hazards were ahead, observations on the road conditions, my intended overtakes, if it was my turn to buy tea - and I d end each high speed drive soaked in sweat and with a headache from the concentration. Eventually though, it all came together, and at the end of the course I was confirmed as a police driver.
I don t know why I was so plea