lol
ONE of the curious aspects of modern life is how the police are no longer revered by those who used to be their staunchest supporters.
This brilliantly-written email to Devon and Cornwall police starkly illustrates the frustrations felt by people who, 20 years ago, would have backed the police without question.
You must read it all the way through. Next week I’ll bring you the reply the writer got from the community beat officer, and what he then said to the bobby.
Dear Sir/Madam/Automated Telephone Answering Service,
Having spent the past 20 minutes waiting for someone at Bodmin Police Station to pick up a telephone, I have decided to abandon the idea and try emailing you instead.
Perhaps you would be so kind as to pass this message on to your colleagues in Bodmin by means of smoke signal, carrier pigeon or a ouija board.
As I am writing this email, there are 11 failed medical experiments (I think you will call them “youths”) in St Mary’s Crescent, which is just off St Mary’s Road in Bodmin.
Fright ... youths hanging around
Fright ... youths hanging around
Six of them seem happy enough to play a game which involves kicking a football against an iron gate with the force of a meteorite.
This causes an earth-shattering CLANG! which rings throughout the entire building.
The game is now in its third week and I am unsure how the scoring system works, and have no idea if it will end any time soon.
The remaining five failed abortions are happily rummaging through several bags of rubbish and items of furniture that someone has so thoughtfully dumped beside the wheelie bins.
One of them has found a saw and is setting about a discarded chair like a beaver on ecstasy pills.
I fear that it is only a matter of time before they turn their limited attention to the caravan gas bottle that is lying on its side between the two bins.
If they could be relied on to only blow their own arms and legs off then I would happily leave them to it. I would even go as far as to lend them the matches.
Unfortunately, they are more likely to blow up half the street with them and I’ve just finished decorating the kitchen.
What I suggest is this – after replying to this email with worthless assurances that the matter is being looked into and will be dealt with, why not leave it until the one night of the year (probably bath night) when there are no mutants around, then drive up the street in a panda car before doing a three-point turn and disappearing again.
This will, of course, serve no other purpose than to remind us what policemen actually look like.
I trust that when I take a clawhammer to the skull of one of these throwbacks, you’ll do me the same courtesy of giving me a four-month head start before coming to arrest me.
I remain your obedient servant.
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