The House of Winsor wishes to announce its new range of police officers, tailored to meet the needs of a changing demographic, and the demands of ‘community leaders’ up and down the country.
Apparently Winsor trawled the waiting room of a voluntary programme for overweight officers, and concluded that 75% of them were indeed overweight, this resulted in headlines along the line of the ‘thin blue waistline is thickening’ or ‘Blobby Bobbies‘ – just the thing to endear yourself to a group of men and women who have been waiting years for a review of their pay and conditions. Still, if you can’t find overweight policemen in the waiting room of a centre for, er, overweight policemen, where can you?
In future, such vote chasing luminaries as Vera Baird and John Prescott, if successful in their goal of being appointed as Police and Crime Commissioners,Â will be able to set the priorities for the police force within their force area.
If the latest leaks from the House of Winsor are anything to go by, we can expect to see some weird sights twirling their way along the catwalk as they compete to see if they are acceptable to the local population. Snake hipped policemenÂ is only one of Winsor’s first offerings. They should go down a treat in Manchester’s Canal Street district. Will they be required to grow a ‘village people’ moustache as well, both male and female officers?
Shall we have the anti-terrorist squad clad in ‘does my bomb look big in this’ burqas in Bradford? Multi-coloured tea-cosies and a ghetto blaster on one shoulder in Brixton? ‘Stab here’ tattooed behind one ear in Essex? Butt-naked and painted with blue woad for Glastonbury? The mind boggles at the ‘priorities’ that the vote-chaser might chose to impose on their local Bobby’s appearance to make them acceptable to the local community – coppers painted with ‘invisible paint’ wherever they have housed Magdi Elgizouli, I imagine.
Winsor is bang up to the minute in his demands that the modern copper is not just a pretty face though. Even Ms World’s intellectual rigour is questioned these days. And so, as the boys and girls twirl at the end of the catwalk, they will be asked about their educational ability – were they one of the 50% of teenagers who managed to get strong armed through a media studies course by a lecturer in fear of losing his posting? They were? Great, they can go right to the top of the class. An Inspectorship for you, you know how to write a screen script for a short story….
All these hoops the ambitious young copper will have to jump through, just to have a job that Winsor reckons should start at Â£4,ooo a year less than you can get as a trainee manager at MacDonald’s. Then you have to worry about hanging onto it. For the idea that you should be rewarded for years of loyal service and priceless experience of the local villains has been denounced as an outmoded model of ‘the 1920′s’ by the policeman’s pin-up, Theresa May – now their performance is to be measured every year.
Inspectors who want to hang onto their experienced team will have to round up the slackers – saucers of milk at the monthly performance meetings for the ‘pussies’ who didn’t manage to hand out 2,000 on the spot fines last month…what else are they to measure performance against? Hours spent lying awake at night trying to outwit a master fraudster? Listening patiently to the drunken dribble of a Cardiff slut upset because someone on Facebook pointed out that there was a choice of 17 candidates for father of her latest offspring, but living in hope that she might drop a hint as to where Father number 6 kept his gun stash? How are you going to measure that?
Since you can’t possibly measure the effectiveness of the average copper’s day, why would any of them bother? Why not just hand out traffic violation notices all day and forget about the fraudster? Isn’t that what we’ve been complaining is happening for years?
Personally I want my policeman brick shit house sized, with a penetrating gaze and years of experience at what the local villains are up to, and preferably quite prepared to give Joe Bloggs a kick where it hurts to persuade him to reveal where he has hidden the jewellery he stole from me. I don’t want a snake hipped ex-media studies student who signed on because it paid below the level at which he had to pay back his student grant and who’s a dab hand at writing amusing lyrics on diversity…
Nor do I want someone prepared to dance to the tune of the local community leader and elected Police and Crime Commissioner. I want someone who will mete out justice without fear or favour.
What Winsor is proposing is a uniformed social worker who dances a pretty jig – at rock bottom prices. I want my money back under the Trade Descriptions Act. Who do I call?