The Last Linslade Bobby Chapter Seven, Part Two.

Chapter Seven, part two...

During a new constables probationary period, that lasts
for their first two years, some would be put with a LBO for a week or
so. Again I often got issued with a 'proby'. One of these was PC Ian
Farrow, who had already served in the London Parks Police for a
number of years, but had now transferred to Bedfordshire Police
having become fed up with constantly carrying out observations on
public toilets for 'cottagers' (men looking for sex with younger
men...a bit like soliciting). All he really needed was bringing up to
speed with taking statements, filling out crime reports and the like;
the administrative side of police work. We got on well as our (rather
stupid) sense of humour was very similar. For instance, one very
boring mid-week late shift we had bets on who could talk the longest
on the most boring subject. I won with an hours tirade on the Morris
Minor Starting Handle, from its first appearance as iron ore right
through to it being used to start its first engine. As that
particular week was quiet, we were given a pile of No Bail Warrants
to deal with. These are court warrants for people who have failed to
appear in court. They are easy to do as once arrested they go
straight to gaol for the period on the warrant. Others were fine
warrants, that if the fine is not paid there and then, arrest the
poor fellow and put then in front of the next available court. I
showed Ian how to deal with these by using the telephone. I saved
hours of trudging about the town. I would ring up the offender
telling them I had the fines warrant and suggesting they find the
money ASAP and that I would see them outside the Magistrates Court at
9am the next day. 90% of them had found the money for the fine by
then (usually from a girlfriend, mother or friend), as they knew they
would go to prison otherwise, as I had told them so over the phone.
That just left the 10% who we would find had moved house from their
last known address anyway. These warrants were then placed on the
National Police Computer; should they be arrested anywhere in the UK
for anything, they would be further detained on this warrant.

A few days later on a Friday late afternoon, we two were
walking past the Bossard Centre (now Waterborne Walk) when a young
teenager ran up almost crying. He had been pick pocketed, a very rare
thing in this town, but at that time rather too common but mostly in
supermarkets and of purses. His wallet had gone and with it his weeks
wages. He had no description of any suspect so Ian completed a crime
report for him, gave him a crime number, then the pair of us found
the £2.30 train fare he needed from our own pockets to get him home
to Milton Keynes.

After a month Ian was let loose on a very unsuspecting
public.

(Photo of myself on a police pushbike removed.)

Another special I took out surprised me. He was in his
early thirties and was looking at becoming a police officer. As was
normal with a very new to the job person, I took him in a panda car
to the railway station car park one evening. There I sat him in the
drivers seat and issued him with a seven day producer ( HORT/1, Home
Office Road Transport form number 1, the same form is used by all
police forces in England and Wales). I would do this a number of
times as if they were the car's driver, then I would get them to
issue me with a HORT/1. The whole idea was to get them into a safe
frame of mind to deal with real members of the public and by far the
worst to deal with were and still are, 'The Motorist'. Eventually the
special would get the idea and their own system by using the layout
of the form as a primer for their questions, ie, name, address,
telephone number, dob, make of car, registration number, and so on.
Then we would pretend to find a fault and I would produce a little
card with the current 'caution' on it. Back then it was simple, “
You do not need to say anything but what you do say may be given in
evidence, “ ( it is much longer and more complex now, far too long
for the average toe-rag to follow). The reason for the card was to
memorise the phrase as it must be used if any offences are found and
one is to report the offender for prosecution. Even a blown rear bulb
needs a 'caution' if we are to prosecute. But I always made sure my
'Special understood that one did not caution anyone to get their name
and address, only when they were 'reporting' the driver for an
offence or questioning for any evidence of an offence (otherwise the
driver need not say anything...) Then we would do a few breathaliser
checks on each other and learn yet another set of rules for a court.
Once again if these rules were not followed, the case would be thrown
out. After all that we would go out and stop a car that had a fault
and I would let the special do the HORT/1. Now normally there would
be some hesitance as this was for real, a real car with a real person
driving who had no idea they were to be spoken to by a trainee. My
early thirties 'Special got stage fright and could not speak, he just
looked terrified, wide eyed and dumb. I took over and issued the
forms giving the driver a warning to fix their rear light, a blown
bulb, the reason for the stop. ( Do people ever check their lights
these days?)

Back in the panda car he apologised for his freezing up,
a mild attack of stage-fright, and I said it was not as easy as it
looked was it? This lad played on the stage as a guitarist in a group
but he had never had to stand up on stage and speak. He did improve
as the days passed though and by the following week had a basic
grounding on motorist and stop-check forms, ( stop-check, stopping
people at night to see who they were and where they were going and if
enough suspicion, to search them and their bags. Once I stopped a
well known drug dealer who lived opposite the police station very
early one morning. He had been to Gateways in the High Street, round
the back and helped himself to some greens and fruit left by a
delivery driver. It was thrown out of court as until the manager and
staff arrived to take the stuff into the store, they had not taken
'ownership'. Basically no one owned it until they did, the driver had
'abandoned ownership' on delivery! The law can be stupid at times).

One Saturday night I was driving the 'Van' with three
Specials on board and our new Inspector. Insp Allison Macho had
arrived from HQ to take over the police station and she was my first
female boss in the police service. I had had many in the RAF so it
was nothing new. Allison very quickly proved to be a diamond, she
looked after her troops well and was a ball of fire. She was seated
next to me in the van as we pottered about the town centre waiting
for closing time and the inevitable fights. Then a call came to
attend the 'Top Bell' public house. We arrived in minutes and Allison
lead the way in. A rather drunken yob shouted out that the stripper
had arrived, to lots of laughter. Allison invited the young man
outside by grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and frog-marching
him out the front door. This brought forth a cheer from the customers
as the drunk was being a nuisance. Outside the pub on the public
footpath, Allison arrested him for being drunk and disorderly. Had
she arrested him inside it would have affected the publicans next
licence application, hence the removal from licensed premises. Two of
the Specials had followed Allison and I into the pub, the third SC
had stayed seated in the van, not wishing to get involved. He was
well known as a 'uniform carrier', that is someone who talks the job
well but does very little. A common nickname for such people was an
'Olympic Lamp', ie never goes out! The drunk was marched into the
rear of the van (we did not have cages in those days, it was just a
Transit van with side-seats) and the seated SC was told to look after
him. The drunk took one look at the SC and then felt very ill. He
retched and was sick all over the poor seated officer which led
Allison to arrest him on a further charge of criminal damage to a
police uniform. She put the SC in charge of him saying if he was
going to sit in the van all evening, he might as well do something
useful!

As mentioned earlier I had PC Ian Farrow put with me for
a few weeks. One of the jobs he was required to get up to speed with
was dealing with 'sudden deaths'. This is an area of police work that
never gets any publicity nor any congratulations. Going to see
someone to tell them of a death in their family is not a job for the
meek. A young very pregnant lady had recently moved into a flat in
Tamar Walk, this is not in Linslade but up on the Leighton-Heath and
Reach border off Shenley Hill Road. As one of the two patrol cars out
was dealing with a prisoner back at the station, the other was sent
to an RTA at the cross roads of Vandyke Road, Miletree Road, Shenley
Hill and Clipstone Lane. This left only Ian and myself available for
any urgent jobs, even though we were patrolling Linslade. I had an
unmarked CID car that day so we could get to any urgent jobs if
required (how do you know it is an unmarked police car? Look at the
tax disc, it will say 'Nil' where the fee is usually printed.) A
father and mother had driven from Luton to Tamar Walk with their
pregnant daughter, using Clipstone Lane as a short-cut from the
Eggington Bends to Shenley Hill. She had been installed to get her
away from her violent boyfriend on the advice of Social Services in
Luton. The parents had then left their very unhappy daughter late
that evening only to completely forget about the cross road as the
father came down Shenley Hill. It was sods law that dictated an empty
sand lorry, who often used Vandyke Road in those days, was coming
from Leighton. The lorry driver said the car simply shot out in front
of him, he had no chance to stop. His empty 7.5 tonne lorry (when
full it was 32 tonne) hit the car full broadside ramming it into the
ditch on the east side of Clipstone Lane. WPC Karen Dryden attended
to deal until a 'Traffic Car' could arrive. Before the only Traffic
Car out arrived (it had to come from the M1 and only traffic officers
are trained to investigate road deaths) Karen radioed in to say the
driver had expired in front of her whilst still strapped into the
driver's seat of the car. A doctor confirmed death shortly after.
Karen later said the driver appeared to have no injuries at first,
but he had been crushed, the car's body springing out again after.

As Ian and I were not involved in this sudden death, we
were passed radio details of the deceased and told to do a
'sympathetic' as we termed the task. I briefed Ian of what to do as
it was his first, it was not difficult but one had to be sure you
were telling the correct relative of a death and not some one with a
similar name. We drew up outside the flat in Tamar Walk and put our
hats on. If you get a police car pull up outside your house and they
tidy themselves up as they get out of their car and then put on their
hats, the news is not going to be good. The girl let us in and Ian
did his bit, he was very nervous indeed as he told her that her
father was dead. As the father had only left her about a half hour
before our arrival, she looked dumfounded, then she began to scream;
she went berserk. She went for Ian and tore at his face with her
nails, drawing blood. I pulled her off and had to fight to sit her
down. She had simply lost it. Her boyfriend had assaulted her, she
had been moved away from her home town to a strange place, now her
father was dead. Her mother just had bruises but was otherwise
unhurt. Ian asked her for the telephone number of a trusted relative,
this he passed to HQ for them to get the relative to come over a stay
with the poor girl. We left her in tears, sobbing away once the
relative arrived. 'Sympathetics' are never easy and just how Ian was
going to explain the scratches on his face to his wife that night I
did not know.

I have mentioned 'stop-checks'. This was the beginning
of the police being given 'targets'. Giving targets to people means
they concentrate on them and not other things. Over the years the
huge number of targets the police have been issued by politically
minded people means that basic policing is now almost ignored. Panda
cars will drive past elderly ladies tottering with their shopping
trolley out into the road around a car completely blocking the
footpath. The poor OAP is risking being killed by another motorist
just because the obstructing car's driver is too idle to walk a few
yards. So they obstruct our pavements. This is now a huge problem for
pedestrians, but there are no political targets for the weak and
infirm footpath users. No panda car will bother with the old lady,
they will look the other way and often do. So it was with these
stop-checks.

We were told to do at least five stop-checks a shift. A
stop-check is the power a constable has to stop someone and find out
what they are doing and what they are carrying. The officer requires
a reason to do this, but as there were quite a lot of burglaries then
it was supposed to be a reasonable request to anyone out at night.
(The majority of household burglaries are between 11am and 1pm and
committed by 11 to 18 year old boys.) One was supposed to get their
name, dob, address, ethnic origin, what they were carrying and their
description. Add to that any vehicle details if they were with one.
If you are on night shift in Leighton Linslade, you are very unlikely
to meet five people about in the early hours. After a week you will
be checking the same dog walkers again and again. So another way had
to be found to get five. We hit on the grave yards in the town, they
were full of people (nothing in the rules said they had to be alive,
we checked.) So if you did not get your quota that night, you slipped
into All Saints, or Vandyke Road Cemetery, or some where similar and
filled out your stop-check forms with the details from a suitable
head stone. Poetic licence was used for the address, but the cemetery
road name was often enough. Then one day a probationer put a date of
birth on his form well over 100 years ago!

I also came to grief with one stop-check form. I had not
got my five one night and having met the new sergeant whilst I was
out on patrol, I put his details on the form. Now normally he just
filed the things off to the CID office. But he must have read the one
I completed for him. I had given the description as 'Huggy Bear' as
he was a very well built chap and that was his nickname amongst us
all when he was not present. He only lasted a few months as for some
unaccountable reason he kissed a witness he was taking a statement
from, which is a sexual assault. He was cashiered and went to prison.
So once again we were without a supervisor on our shift. I had passed
my sergeants exam and twice was an Acting Sergeant to cover these
vacancies (but that is another story).

Out on my own one day I was walking back from Linslade
to the police station to book off duty about half past one, when I
passed on the opposite side of the High Street from Lloyds Bank.
Lloyds was then half way down the High Street opposite Smiths not
where it is now within the TSB in Market Square. Outside the bank was
parked a big car with four middle aged men inside, all in ties and
suits. They were just sitting there and at that time there was no
parking restrictions as there are now. I walked up the High Street
until I could see the registration number clearly and stood inside
the old coaching entrance that is now between the 99p shop and the
Clarks shoe shop. I watched them for ten minutes then carried out a
PNC check on the car. A 'PNC' check is where HQ can look at the DVLA
(or DVLC as it was then) records. A very interesting reply came back.
The information was denied to me which only meant one thing. It was
an under cover police car or something sinister with MI5/MI6. I went
to the 'nick and phone HQ. They were all laughing about it as the
Metropolitan Police had already contacted them wanting to know how on
earth a foot-beat bobby had PNC'd one of their supposedly secret
cars? I told them to tell them that the car stuck out like a sore
thumb in a small market town High Street.

Continued.....