A Police Christmas

Hope everyone who reads the blog (both of you) had a great Christmas and the jolly fat man in the big red coat brought you what you wanted. This year, like most years, I was working over Christmas. Because crime never sleeps - or even doses - and because of the 24 hour shift patterns, most front line emergency service workers will have spent at least part of the festive holidays at work.

The team of officers I am part of drew arguably the shortest of straws this year and were working Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and finally Boxing Day on 'Late turn' - basically the afternoon to evening shift.

Working national holidays, missing anniversaries, not being able to attend family occasions: all occurrences police officers accept as part of the unique job we do; we ARE well remunerated in our employment (although everyone will always complain for a little bit more) so it is an occupational hazard that we get used to. In some ways a close Shift of officers become like a family so, although we'd still rather be at home with mum and dad watching celebrity 'Take Me Out' or being drunk nuisances on the High Street ourselves rather than having to move them on, working over the Christmas period isn't as bad as it might first seem.

In case some of you were wondering what a typical on duty police officer's Christmas is like, please let me share with you mine which was a typical example of most.

Christmas Eve was for drunk people

All started well: lots of smiley faces in briefing as we took turns to open our secret Santa presents. I will make great use of the luminous green mankini whoever got me it. Thanks for the present whoever you are. Likewise I hope the recipient of the inflatable woman I gifted enjoys it too.

The shift starts with a little bit of paperwork catch up before a few checks on the flooded roads. By the way, it always amazes me how motorists can drive around the police 'road closed' signs (committing a traffic offence in doing so I might add) and then, when they get stuck, have the audacity to call us in hope that we might somehow be able to assist. Call the coast guard instead.

Monday night is usually a quiet one, but not this Monday. In line with the binge drinking culture that continues to grip the nation, Christmas Eve is party time along the High Streets and night spots. Routine policing goes out the window as all available recourses are needed on the streets to spread good will to all men (and women) and move on those who have had too much Christmas spirit.

Fortunately it wasn’t as cold as some years have been in the past as I took up position on my preferred street corner. The atmosphere is cheery and even I indulge in a little friendly banter with the punters as they go on their merry way. Dodgy Christmas jumpers and fancy dress seemed the order of the night, but I wasn't too sure about the 16 stone, full bearded angel - complete with wings, halo, wand and tutu - armed with the mistletoe who made advances towards my colleague and I. The joviality faded slightly as the heavens opened and the rain water ran off my custodial helmet and down the collar of my high visibility jacket.

The remaining charm of the season that I was so desperately clinging to was sadly destroyed as my workmates and I were required to roll around on the pavement with two drunks outside a popular club, helmets scattered across the road - for some reason senior officers are obsessed with police headwear; as if an over sized helmet will propel the Force up the performance league table all on its own.

At the stroke or midnight I was booking in to custody a prisoner found in possession of a class A drug - he was hoping for different sort of white Christmas - as a traffic unit waited nearby to charge his third drink driver of the night. At 1am I was off duty.

Incidentally 'Night' shift officers were still fighting with people until gone 4am on Christmas morning.

The police station custody doesn't offer Christmas dinner by the way.

Christmas Day was for depressed people

The best thing about working national holidays - the only good thing actually - is that police officers get paid double time. Because of this fact, coupled with the crushing budget restraints all forces now face, the resourcing department reduces officer numbers and shortens shift lengths in a blatant effort to cut salary costs to the detriment of officer safety!

Whilst most members of the public are snoozing on the sofa, sleeping off the over indulgences of the traditional Christmas dinner, or helping children build their new Lego castle, A Shift were preparing to police the town.

The intention was to police 'fire brigade style' - this means officers stay on station and only venture out into the big, wild world when required to do so following a 999 call. This is a treat reserved only for special occasions as normally diligent officers will patrol relentlessly for burglars, murderers and rapists (or looking to persecute innocent motorists if you listen to some) when 'free time' is presented and not attending an incident.

To make the festive experience as joyous as possible, all the team members brought a little bit of party food in to the station with them for us all to share.

The feast would have to wait for two team members as they were immediately called out to a distressed male who had thrown himself in the river during a fit of depression - maybe he didn't get the Kindle HD he so craved. After being promptly plucked from the raging torrent he was transported to the relative safety of NHS Sunrise House for a mental health assessment where it would be decided if he presented a risk to himself or others.

Two more officers were sent to deal with a 999 call at a well known address concerning a male reportedly beating his pregnant girlfriend. The concerned neighbours called the job in but upon arrival both the male and his heavily pregnant lady friend told officers to **** off - presumably so they could go back to beating the hell out of each other.

Next officers were required to assist the ambulance service dealing with a self harming teenager who had taken a Stanley knife to her wrist and legs. She was found in her room with superficial cuts before being taken to NHS Sunrise House for a mental health assessment where it would be decided if she presented a risk to herself or others.

Another officer was lost to the cause as they are called out to an inconsiderate driver who underestimated to amphibious capabilities of his Rover 75 and stranded himself between two humpback bridges which span the very same river the depressed male plunged head first in to earlier. He was not taken to Sunrise House though.

Incidentally, five hours later both the swimmer and self harmer were assessed by a team of qualified healthcare professionals and sent merrily on their way having deemed to present no threat, releasing the two police officers who had to remain the whole time during the process. The officers liberation came just in time as all available units were summoned to a house siege during which a father had kidnapped his children and was hold up at the grandma's house.

Sometime later a peaceful resolution was reached and dad was taken in to custody before being whisked off to NHS Sunrise House for a mental health assessment where it would be decided if he presented a risk to himself or others.

Much of the food remained uneaten. Merry Christmas everyone...

Boxing Day is for angry people

The Boxing Day shift commenced with all officers munching down the remaining non-perishable items from the night before. We soon realised we had very much got the mince pie to officer ration ridiculously wrong as there was enough for eight each. We all concluded that no-one is actually particularly fond of the Christmas delicacy, but tradition dictates they must be eaten.

The first half of the eight hour shift was fairly sedate compared to the previous two days - only an 'abandoned 999' to show value for the extra wage the tax payer was unknowingly bestowing me. However the calmness only lulled A Shift onto a false sense of security for the plethora of violent domestics that were to follow!

Having been cooped up together for such an extended period of time, with only film repeats and The Snowman and the Snow Dog for their viewing pleasure on the 48" plasma, beating family members about the head before calling 999 to sort out their wretched lives was the only alternative some of the community!

The award for the most spectacularly appalling display of inhumanity came from the Eastern European lady who tried her hardest to stab her husband before attempting to blow up him and the kids - along with much of the neighbourhood - by turning the gas cooker on and setting fire to the kitchen. She was only foiled by some brave firemen and her sheer stupidity - the gas had been cut off just a few days before for non-payment. On route back to the sanctum on the police station the female preceded to violently smash her head against the inner cell door of the police van until she rendered herself unconscious. Two officers were required to accompany her to the local police station.

So that was my Christmas! I still found a bit of time to share with loved ones though so I am not complaining - honest!

 

It's New Year's Eve tonight, and guess who's working it...

 

PS. For legal reasons I must add that all of the above I made up; none of it happened; it's all fiction; any likeness to anyone living or otherwise is purely coincidental, and even I don't exist.

PPS. If like me, Christmas seems a distant memory already, here is a picture of a snowman to cheer you up: