A Bit Tipsy Are We Sir?

Soon after putting on my big hat for the first time I realised that there's two types of drunk people.

The first type is actually, normally quite a laugh. They come staggering up to you, give you a big, beaming smile and slur something like, "You know what? You're a copper you are. I love you. Do you wanna be my friend?" And then they try and give you a (friendly) bear hug. Honestly, I can't take my mum anywhere these days!

I don't mind dealing with Nice Pissed Bloke. They're good value and definately beat Mr Angry as a way to spend ten minutes. They'll tell you that they could have been a pro footballer. And show off their skills with a discarded kebab. Before falling over.

Or that they're going on the X-Factor next week. And then serenade you with a really, really bad song. Sung really, really badly. Before falling over.

Even the ones who want to tell you how bad their lives are, and just drone on and on about how their wife left them, their house fell down and their dog died aren't too bad. You just give them five minutes of TLC before pretending there's something really important going on that you just have to go to. As long as they manage not to vomit on my face I don't mind them at all.

If it's quiet, we've even been known to join in with their singing/dancing/football/reminiscing. It's all in good spirits (literally) and it helps keep up the image of friendly British bobby.

However, there's the other sort of drunk who I hate with the very fabric of my being.

Pissed Angry Man or Pissed Leary Woman who is insisting on having a fight. With someone. Anyone really. Doesn't matter. "He barged into me!" "He spilt my pint!" "He looked at my bird!" "She chatted my bloke up!"

These are the people who insist on being arrested. Even when you're giving them the chance to just get into a taxi and go home. You'll say to them, "Look, why don't you just go home. You've had a good night, time to get yourself off." And the inevitable reply is, "I don't have to go nowhere! You can't tell me! You f*cking pr*ck!"

Right. Best you come with me then.

These are the same people who phone up, absolutely bladdered, reporting that they've been assaulted by bouncers. And they've done nothing wrong! Even when you point out that the CCTV shows them trying to start fights all round the club, including with the door staff.

"I wanna make a complaint!"

"Yeah, me too sunshine. But who's gonna listen?"





And they'll get all brave when their mates are with them. Full of "Wait 'til I see you off duty!" (At this stage, I normally point out that their grammar's atrocious. "But you're not on duty, sir. Did you mean "Wait until I see you when you're off duty"?")

This stage is normally followed by the bit when they start crying, which in turn is followed by the bit where they get violent again.

So we have to restrain them and then they get the chance to complain about us assaulting them the next day.

This sort of drunk person makes my Friday and Saturday late shifts a complete pain in the arse. You need the patience of a Saint and half a dozen witnesses to prove that he got that crack on the swede by headbutting the side of the car.

I've realised that the best way to deal with them, as you take them to the ground, restrain them and wrap them up with limb restraints is to get ultra, ultra nice and professional.

"Now now sir, we don't want to do that do we? We might end up hurting ourselves."

Or the fantastic, "Is there anything I can reasonably do or say that will help you to calm down?"

"Fuck off!!!!"

"I'll take that as a no then sir". This has to be delivered with your best "media smile" to be completely effective.