It was my first night on duty in the Barsettshire Police force, in ‘H’ division part of a very busy industrial town surrounded by farmland. Gypsies had settled on a piece of rough ground not far from the police station causing uproar.
My tutor Constable was Tony, who everyone nicknamed Mr Grumpy. He moaned about absolutely everything, he hated working nights, he hated twilight shifts, he hated the Met, (Metropolitan Police). He had recently driven to London all excited to watch his favourite football team play (a southern softies side). He parked his car in a quiet side street, quite lawfully. While he was in the match his car was towed away.
His heart sank when he returned to where he’d left the car. Some rotten so and so had nicked it, added to that his team had lost! Mr Grumpy made enquiries and was given directions to the local nick. He made his way to the Station to tell them that his car had been stolen (expecting some sympathy from a fellow copper).
He was told that they had towed it away under the bylaws. They would not give him any reason why. He could either join the long queue, pay and have a receipt or he could pay a reduced rate in cash and get his car quickly. They charged him under the counter as it were for him to get his motor back), he was fuming! The fact that he was a fellow Bobby meant absolutely nothing at all!
On top of everything else he hated having me foisted on him to show me the ropes, (all that extra paperwork), etc.
Since the gypsies had settled on the patch, local crime had increased! Passers by were being abused by their unruly kids. Burglaries had increased, bike stealing became more frequent, shop keepers were having goods stolen when they entered en-masse. They were very angry, the locals were up in arms and complaining to the Superintendent, loudly! The very neighbourhood seemed to be grumpy.
The superintendent, a big man with a big voice, was giving the complaints back to his officers, loudly and they were giving it out too, big style, everyone was unhappy!
Mr Grumpy was unhappy, The Coppers at the Station were unhappy the local area was unhappy, I was the only one OK it seemed.
So, my first night with Mr Grumpy began well enough, we dealt with a few incidents then after our refreshments break, at about 02:45 hours we left the station on patrol by car. But as we approached the traffic junction by the gypsy Camp, which was on our right. Tony asked me to take the steering wheel for a moment. “Just hold her steady”. Then before I knew what was happening, he wound down his car door window. Without a word being said he catapulted a load of something that made a mighty sound like hail on tin sheds. He took the steering wheel, and we zoomed off into the darkness.
I didn’t ask what he’d done. Discretion is far better than sticking your neck out when you are a new kid on the team.
When I went on duty the next night the gypsy camp was gone. There was loads of rubbish, scrap metal and other detritus. As far as I know there were no complaints from the gypsies, but the local crime complaints soon dropped and there was a noticeable sense of relief in the station generally as though the station itself breathed a sigh of relief.
That was my introduction to being a police constable and what I subsequently learned was the ‘Ways and Means Act’ (sometimes called the ‘Bristol Council Baths Act’).
They hadn’t taught us that at Bruche Police Training College.
Bye for now!