Tuesday, August 22, 2006

PC Plod, where are you?

So there we were keenly waiting for the next enthralling episode of Emmerdale, when I espied some skullduggery afoot from our lounge window.

At the rear of our garden past the bomb site that was once a small wood, is a little stretch of woodland which borders a main road linking to the M2. There suddenly appeared two shady characters dressed in identical dark track suits from the direction of the road. What they were up to and why in fact they were there, was a mystery. They disappeared back into the foliage amidst much rustling and thrashing about.

"This is a job for the Old Bill", I thought.

Being a fine upstanding citizen, I rang 999 and gave the operator a running commentary of what was occurring in front of my eyes.

After taking my details and an abridged version of events, the man told me he would contact a patrol in our area.

Did they arrive sirens blaring amidst screeching of tyres? Did they bollocks. In fact, they never showed up at all.

Not even a return phone call.

Bugger all.

And they wonder why Joe Public has lost all confidence in the police force.

Maybe if I had said they were bearded dark skinned men with long flowing robes, it might have encouraged a more serious approach to our cry for help.

Oops. Now I will have the 'PC' police down on me like a ton of bricks.


Yorkshire Pudding said...

Dear Mr Krip,
We were only looking for wild mushrooms. Honest!
The Men In Black
P.S. Do you always stand stark naked at your lounge window when you are on the telling bone?

krip said...

Is there any other way?

bazza27 said...

Presumably the police didn't respond to Yorkshire Puddings call about indecent exposure either. Here was me thinking it was just the police in Hull that were crap.

Steve said...

Krip, If they had arrived they, in my opinion, would've found it hard to string a sentence together, struggled to note down what you told them and completely ignore anything pertinant to the arrest of ne'er-do-wells.

They're only there to give you a crime number. Glorified Insurance clerks - that's all most of 'em are these days.