Bonkers Shift

I was on a night shift last night, supposed to last from 10pm through to 7am this morning, but things didn't quite go to plan. It's possibly my last night shift for quite some time because I'm changing jobs (just waiting for the start date from the bosses) so it might as well have been a memorable one.

It was absolutely bonkers! From leaving the nick at about half ten (cup of tea and slice of cake happily digesting) we didn't stop. Which was a shame because it's my birthday tomorrow and we were going to have a get together in the early hours. I'd even brought in sausage rolls (which the early turn shift will have finished by now).

Amongst other things we went to an old lady who'd fallen and couldn't get up. On our way there our CCTV operators told us that there was a key safe outside the door and they gave us the combination, so we wouldn't have to get the Big Red Door Key out. The paramedics turned up just after us which was good, because my mate and I weren't going to have to blunder through our really basic First Aid:
Me: "So what do we do?"
Mate: "Er, well she's complaining of pain in her hip and she's not sure if she lost consciousness."
Me: "Right then, er, recovery position?"

(on a side issue, the recovery position was specifically designed for people who are supposed to know what they're doing, and don't have a clue, but have to make it look like they do. I use it all the time, pretty much regardless of what the injuries are. Broken arm? Recovery position. Stabbed in the chest? Recovery position. Piece of lego stuck up nose? Recover position... and souvenir photo).

Anyway, old lady. The paramedics had been there before. Lots of times. Apparently the last time it was a poltergeist who pushed her over. I nodded sagely. Yep, they'll do that every time. She needs to get the Council out.

So, we left the paramedics to it. Then we went to a "Concern For Welfare" of a woman whose husband was reporting her missing. They'd had their troubles over the last few months and the wife had admitted that she'd started thinking about going off with someone else, and that she'd started flirting with a bloke at work. As the guy was telling us this (he was huge, 21st and covered in prison tatts) he was really calm about it. Really calm. To the point that it was quite unnerving.

My chum and I were a bit freaked out by the whole thing and started to imagine her lying in the bath, chopped up and wrapped in cling film. After using the guys loo (and checking behind the shower curtain) we went looking for her around the local car parks and actually ended up bumping into her a bit later. She was fine, just wanted "space". Which is understandable. They lived in quite a small flat. With the size of her hubby she's probably not been able to exhale properly for days.

We had two or three house parties go wrong when the kiddies had drunk too much alcopops and decided to take on the world. "No, really. You are doing something wrong. You're in the middle of the street shouting at everyone who comes close. Including me. I promise you, on my honour, you are breaking the law and unless you tell me your mum's mobile number now so she can come get you, I'll prove it by locking you up." Anyway, parents turn up, kids tell them how horrible I am, parents look suitably embarassed and off we go.

We went to a fight between brother and sister at an address I know really well. The family's been disfunctional for as long as I've known them (think The Simpsons without any of the redeeming bits) but things have gone downhill since the dad walked out. Well, I say "walked out". He's halfway through a six year sentence for selling heroin. But, you know, it must be hard for the family.

The mum's in the middle of a break down that's well into it's third year. The eldest son "Daniel" received one of the town's first ever ASBO's. He's very proud of this. And he should be. It'll probably be the only qualification he ever receives. The daughter "Michelle" is at fifteen already an alcoholic and has been the victim of sexual assault whilst drunk three times. And there's a youngest son "Robert" who has the pre-requisite ADHD and spent my visit jumping from one surface to another like a pyjama clad baboon.

The fight was about who owned some cannabis and we eventually got them to agree to discuss the matter in the morning, after I'd gone home. They all went to bed and we went to the next fight, outside a nightclub just around the corner. Other officers were already there by then and we weren't really needed. So we took the opportunity to stretch our legs and have a wander up the High Street.

Then, a bit later, a job came in from the train station car park. Some bloke breaking into a car. Everyone (who wasn't tucked up at a job) rushed down there and the guy ran off when the first Police officer arrived. There was a foot chase over some waste ground. We were trying to find the officer but it was really hard for him to describe exactly where he was. Then he pressed his emergency button. We couldn't make out what he was saying exactly, other than he wanted a first aid kit because he was bleeding quite badly.

We got really frustrated. We knew roughly where he was, and could hear him struggling, but the undergrowth was quite dense. Eventually someone got to him and I caught up about a minute later. As I did the officer was being walked away by colleagues, his head, face and body covered in blood from two huge gashes to his head.

Apparently the officer drew his baton when the thief was cornered. The thief lunged for the officer who struck him on the arm with the baton twice. This caused the thief to fall and the officer got one cuff on a wrist, but then the thief began to struggle again, causing the officer to drop his baton. As they rolled around on the floor, the thief grabbed the baton and hit the officer around the head with it. Twice. But complete respect to the bobby who refused to let go of the scumbag and even managed to get the other cuff on.

(In fact, on a side issue, I know there's loads of stories about Police brutality and how we like to dish out beatings when there's no cameras. This guy was arrested right out of the way of any cameras and there were over ten Police officers present who'd just seen their colleague covered in claret. And still he got to the cell block with nothing apart from slightly sore wrists where he'd been struggling with the handcuffs. Regardless of what any of us might have wanted to do, we're really not like that. It's not worth the pension.)

Anyway, he was locked up and because we seized his clothing and all sorts of other things (including the van he stole from) practically the whole shift were tucked up with paperwork of one description or another.

However, there was just time for one last job. A chap rang us to say he was following two lads down the High Street and that they were carrying a vacuum cleaner. Which belonged to him. I found two bobbies from somewhere and they popped down. It turns out the two guys had burgled a flat that our informant was managing and getting ready for new tennants (hence his hoover being in there). As they made good their escape, they'd offered to sell the hoover to the first person they met. Which happened to be the owner!

They were locked up but it didn't end there. They'd taken their girlfriend to the burglary but forgotten to bring her back again. She was found sound asleep on one of the beds in there. Like Goldilocks but with a raging drug habit.

So once they were dealt with and everything else was done it was 9am and we all crawled off to bed. Not the same bed. That would be taking team building too far. But, you know...

And the injuries to the bobby weren't as bad as we initially thought. He's going to have two really big scars on his bonce but his skull wasn't cracked and by the time he was taken home after doing his statement he'd started to joke about it. Top man.