Community Safety Forum
Also known as the surreal world of policing in the 21st century.
The audience sat patiently in the Market Hall waiting for the Community Safety police sergeant to turn up, so the meeting could begin. A check of my watch showed he was almost 15 minutes late for the start of the meeting, convened to discuss policing of the village. Unkindly, I wondered if the sergeant had problems with his SatNav in finding where the village was on his patch, even though he is based at Hedge Police station (- closed in the evenings, weekends, and, to my surprise, for lunch hours, during the day) some two miles away.
Dressed in jeans and tank top, befitting Dennis the Menace, the sergeant proceeded to explain to the audience how pleased he was to report that his Community Safety team was no longer languishing, more or less, at the bottom of the performance table, but was now in the premier league. No rapturous applause from the audience. More worryingly for the sergeant, a number of the audience actually had the temerity to complain about the service, or lack of it, provided by his team.
One lady from Boorley Green said she had not seen the Community Support Officer - ever. It was, perhaps, a tad insensitive for the sergeant to suggest she needed to get out more often. Compounded by the spotty, callow CSO saying we may not see him, but he was probably cunningly concealed somewhere. Images of the CSO in full camouflage and matching tin helmet, hiding in the bushes, sprung to mind. Inspector Clouseau could not have done better!
Just to round off this inept part of the evening, the villagers were left totally confused by the suggestion to ring various alternative telephone numbers - 999, 0845 0454545, 112 and 101 - depending on the nature of the complaint. To much hilarity, villagers said they had used these numbers, only to find some of the operators rude and indifferent, and worse no feedback from the police to their call. Bring back that irascible, old sod, Jim, our long retired village bobby! No more worrying then about whether ASBOs, human rights of antisocial criminals were being infringed, just good old-fashioned policing - Gene Hunt eat your heart out!
I did venture to suggest that the sergeant sounded more like a social worker - i.e. lots of empathy with poor misunderstood yobs - than a law enforcement officer. Of course, I was proved totally wrong, when our Parish Chairman mentioned an incident of mistaken racial abuse (- in fact, the young lady so abused, owes more to a sunbed than ethnic origin). At this point, I thought the sergeant was about to have an epileptic fit, as he went as stiff as a ramrod, his eyes glazed over, and his mouth started moving. This physical change preceded a text book quote that "Hampshire Police will not tolerate any form of racial or homophobic abuse". Obviously, the sergeant is on his way to becoming a future Commissioner of the Met.
The Parish Chairman - whom I will call Dr Longbow, as he is a PhD, and always brings to mind the power of a longbow when he is about to loose a deadly flight of well-timed sentences - called for questions. Funnily enough, Mrs Longbow drew attention to the wholesale carnage of wing mirrors, windscreens, and keying of bodywork, inflicted on the cars of members of the Choral Society every Wednesday night in the local car park. Nice pincer movement, worthy of Wellington. Dr Longbow added a few subtle sentences, which simply added to the sergeant's increasing discomfort. At this point, the sergeant pointed to various leaflets at the back of the hall, apologised and left stage right.
Did I learn anything? Yes, always get my gay or ethnic friends to make a complaint on my behalf, as it is really the only way for anything to be taken seriously by the police. By the way, I not excluding those who are gay and ethnic, but they are bit thin on the ground in rural communities.
The audience sat patiently in the Market Hall waiting for the Community Safety police sergeant to turn up, so the meeting could begin. A check of my watch showed he was almost 15 minutes late for the start of the meeting, convened to discuss policing of the village. Unkindly, I wondered if the sergeant had problems with his SatNav in finding where the village was on his patch, even though he is based at Hedge Police station (- closed in the evenings, weekends, and, to my surprise, for lunch hours, during the day) some two miles away.
Dressed in jeans and tank top, befitting Dennis the Menace, the sergeant proceeded to explain to the audience how pleased he was to report that his Community Safety team was no longer languishing, more or less, at the bottom of the performance table, but was now in the premier league. No rapturous applause from the audience. More worryingly for the sergeant, a number of the audience actually had the temerity to complain about the service, or lack of it, provided by his team.
One lady from Boorley Green said she had not seen the Community Support Officer - ever. It was, perhaps, a tad insensitive for the sergeant to suggest she needed to get out more often. Compounded by the spotty, callow CSO saying we may not see him, but he was probably cunningly concealed somewhere. Images of the CSO in full camouflage and matching tin helmet, hiding in the bushes, sprung to mind. Inspector Clouseau could not have done better!
Just to round off this inept part of the evening, the villagers were left totally confused by the suggestion to ring various alternative telephone numbers - 999, 0845 0454545, 112 and 101 - depending on the nature of the complaint. To much hilarity, villagers said they had used these numbers, only to find some of the operators rude and indifferent, and worse no feedback from the police to their call. Bring back that irascible, old sod, Jim, our long retired village bobby! No more worrying then about whether ASBOs, human rights of antisocial criminals were being infringed, just good old-fashioned policing - Gene Hunt eat your heart out!
I did venture to suggest that the sergeant sounded more like a social worker - i.e. lots of empathy with poor misunderstood yobs - than a law enforcement officer. Of course, I was proved totally wrong, when our Parish Chairman mentioned an incident of mistaken racial abuse (- in fact, the young lady so abused, owes more to a sunbed than ethnic origin). At this point, I thought the sergeant was about to have an epileptic fit, as he went as stiff as a ramrod, his eyes glazed over, and his mouth started moving. This physical change preceded a text book quote that "Hampshire Police will not tolerate any form of racial or homophobic abuse". Obviously, the sergeant is on his way to becoming a future Commissioner of the Met.
The Parish Chairman - whom I will call Dr Longbow, as he is a PhD, and always brings to mind the power of a longbow when he is about to loose a deadly flight of well-timed sentences - called for questions. Funnily enough, Mrs Longbow drew attention to the wholesale carnage of wing mirrors, windscreens, and keying of bodywork, inflicted on the cars of members of the Choral Society every Wednesday night in the local car park. Nice pincer movement, worthy of Wellington. Dr Longbow added a few subtle sentences, which simply added to the sergeant's increasing discomfort. At this point, the sergeant pointed to various leaflets at the back of the hall, apologised and left stage right.
Did I learn anything? Yes, always get my gay or ethnic friends to make a complaint on my behalf, as it is really the only way for anything to be taken seriously by the police. By the way, I not excluding those who are gay and ethnic, but they are bit thin on the ground in rural communities.
posted by Cobblers | 5:16 AM
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