Some weeks after joining the ‘H’ division I was coming to the end of my tutoring and would soon be out on my own. That would mean shaking hands with doorknobs in the City, dealing with drunks etc.
Midweek, and it was quite quiet on the patch. Mr Grumpy decided to show me the outskirts of the division. As we drove down a twisty farm lane in the pitch black, we saw a car parked on the side of the road. Was it stolen? We would take a look. We got out of the patrol car and went to the vehicle. The windows were all steamed up, and the car was bouncing gently on its suspension. Consider my surprise when Mr Grumpy, unable to shine his flashlight through the streamed-up windows, suddenly banged on the roof and shouted; “Hey, what’s going on in there?” I said, “Come away, Tony, leave them alone!” As we walked to the patrol car, he proclaimed rather sulkily: “I can’t do it, so why should they!” I do have to say that whoever was in that car didn’t seem put off by Tony.
Some bobbies in those days carried a set of old car keys of various types to help recover stolen vehicles, to remove them to the station compound, or to help folk who had locked themselves out of their cars.
This night watch was almost completed; it would soon be time for home. Heading toward the station, my thoughts were about going home to a nice warm bed. We came across a car stuck on a grass verge facing away from our division in the middle of nowhere. The occupant was the worse wear from drink. I felt sure that we would be breathalysing and arresting him. Bang goes getting off home to bed until about 10:30 or so. But Tony had other ideas, (bearing in mind his rollicking about the little old lady shoplifter). He told me that I was not to see anything or remember anything that would happen next.
He got the man out of the car, he was rather drunk but not stinking. Tony said, “Due to the pressure of work, he had permission to give the man a very special chance if he promised not to do it again!” The driver was all smiles and very amenable. Tony offered to give him a lift down the road and let him walk back to his car, telling him that by the time he got back to his car, he would probably be OK to drive. But that he had to forget ever having seen us, as we were doing him a very, very big favour rather than breathalysing him and arresting him.
The man was amazed!
So was I!
Tony sat him in the back of the patrol car and drove several miles away in the wrong direction.
Thoughts such as, ‘Dereliction of duty’, ‘Disciplinary action’, ‘Dismissal! rattled around my head, I was not happy. I saw the end of my police service before It properly started in vivid terms.
He pointed the drunk away from his car and told him to walk in that direction until he came to it. He put his keys in his coat pocket, patted the pocket, told him to look after his keys and set him on his way in the wrong direction. Off he toddled, somewhat unsteadily.
We turned around and drove back toward the station.
I said, “What if he realises that he’s going in the wrong direction? He’s got the keys to his car; he’ll be a danger to himself and others!”
“No he won’t! The keys to his car are under his passenger seat. He’s got a set of old house door keys to my mother-in-law’s old house; they’re no use to anyone”.
“Anyway! Who are you talking about?”
I said, “The drunk in the car”!
“What drunk? I didn’t see any drunk! The car was empty when I examined it!”
You try arguing with that!
Oh! By the by, I have often wondered how the drunk actually got home.
Did he ring for his wife to collect him from wherever he was?
How did he explain to his wife the strange house keys in his coat pocket?
His car keys were lost for who knows how long, only to be found eventually under the passenger seat.
Life has its perplexities.
BYE FOR NOW!