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24-06-10, 03:25 PM
I have been reading the diary of a probationary police constable recently, some of the stuff is bloody hilarious, some of it sobering, and some of it is just reality... I thought it was worth posting this section as its so relevant and so true.
I've been there before...
Our Probationer Issues An FPN
20-Aug-09
PC Bill Newman muses over the impact a stopped motorist's attitude has on the course of action by an officer....
PC Bill Newman is fresh out of training school and shares his experiences of being new to the job with Police Oracle readers on a weekly basis....
I was sat parked up with my driver Alan, tucked down a long driveway which came off a main road.
The early morning shift was dragging slowly and the radio was unusually quiet. Hidden from the view of motorists, we sat to eat our lunch while watching for any drivers, unaware of our presence, to give us an excuse to stop them.
Seatbelts, using mobile phones and even speeding would be our green light to shoot after them and pull them over.
“We’re the petty police today really,” Alan said amusingly as he studied the wrapper of a chocolate bar he’d just consumed.
“Do you know how many E numbers this thing has,” he asked me in a tone that told me I was about to find out. “That’s unbelievable,” he added, still staring intently at the small writing.
I saw a car shoot past along the 30mph road travelling at least 50mph.
“That flew past us,” I said.
“All the food I’ve eaten has got weird stuff in it,” he continued, picking up the empty crisp packet on his lap.
“Al, did you see that car that flew past,” I tried again.
“Mono… monosodium glutamate,” he stumbled. “What the hell is that? Wheat Malto… maltodextrin? That sounds like a poison.”
A blue Micra with four young lads in drove slowly past, the occupants looking at nearby houses.
“Wonder what they’re up to,” I said more to myself than anyone else.
“There’s garlic powder in my peperami,” Alan said, sounded disgusted. “Why would they put that in there, that’s just wrong?”
As I looked up, I saw a young male speed past while holding a mobile phone up against his right ear.
“He was on the phone,” I said.
Alan’s head darted up so quickly I thought his neck my snap and within a split second the car keys were being turned in the ignition.
“That’s just taking the ****,” Alan snarled, spinning the car around and catching up to the offender. “I hate mobile phones.”
We shot after the car and pulled it over a short distance up the road.
“Do you have any idea why we’ve pulled you over,” I said to the young driver who was now standing beside me on the pavement.
“Mobile,” he said sheepishly.
“Correct. That’s three points for using your mobile. It’ll push your insurance up and cost you more money,” I warned. “That’s a good result though for you,” I added. He looked at me confused.
“The bad result happens when you’re talking on your phone and don’t see something and end up killing someone and then go to prison. And I guarantee you won’t kill yourself, it’ll be an innocent person. The fact you didn’t see us behind shows you weren’t aware of what was going on around you.”
“Sorry”, he mumbled apologetically.
“On this occasion, take it as words of advice, but you were very close to getting a ticket there,” I said sternly.
He got back into his car and drove off slowly, probably thankful we had let him off. I’d never had an intention to stick him on for the offence; he’d been honest, was polite and I didn’t feel like ruining his day.
Moments later we were behind another car whose driver was idly chatting away on his phone.
“Give him a tug, he’s got no idea we’re here,” I said somewhat annoyed.
Standing next to the offender on the pavement, I began my usual routine.
“Why do you think we’ve pulled you over?”
He looked at me blankly, and shook his head.
“You’ve no idea whatsoever why we might have pulled you over?” I asked in disbelief. He was talking himself into a ticket nicely. “Just be honest with me.”
He again shook his head, so I helped him out.
“Mobile phone perhaps?” I said.
“Nope,” he said defiantly.
“There’s no point in lying mate, we followed you for about a quarter of a mile and you were completely unaware we were behind you.”
“I wasn’t on the phone, check it,” he said pointing at his car. Alan leant into his vehicle and retrieved the phone and brought it over.
“It says you last received a call five minutes ago,” Alan said cheerfully.
“I wasn’t on the phone,” he said once more.
A genuine apology and politeness and he’d have driven off with no more than a ticking off, providing our routine checks had all been okay. Instead, he’d talked himself into three points and a fine.
“Have a seat in the back of our car,” I said mischievously. “We’ll sort it out in there.”
Once I had filled out the ticket, our man was still defending himself.
“You can either pay the fine and accept the points,” I said. “Or challenge it and take it to court, and we’ll all have a nice day out, it really doesn’t bother me,” I said.
“I’ll see you in court then mate,” he said before walking off.
He knew we’d caught him in the act, we knew we’d caught him in the act, but for some reason he’d insisted to play the silly game that ended up in him getting points. On the whole I dislike giving tickets out to motorists because the majority of them are decent people who’ve never committed a crime. I would suggest that every driver has at once stage committed traffic offences, and I am fully aware of that. But getting caught and then deciding to lie to the police is a silly way in getting an easy ticket.
“What an idiot,” I said. “If he hadn’t have lied I wouldn’t have bothered giving him a ticket.”
I looked up to see Alan studying the back of my sandwich packet with a deep frown.
“Disgusting,” he muttered.
I've been there before...
Our Probationer Issues An FPN
20-Aug-09
PC Bill Newman muses over the impact a stopped motorist's attitude has on the course of action by an officer....
PC Bill Newman is fresh out of training school and shares his experiences of being new to the job with Police Oracle readers on a weekly basis....
I was sat parked up with my driver Alan, tucked down a long driveway which came off a main road.
The early morning shift was dragging slowly and the radio was unusually quiet. Hidden from the view of motorists, we sat to eat our lunch while watching for any drivers, unaware of our presence, to give us an excuse to stop them.
Seatbelts, using mobile phones and even speeding would be our green light to shoot after them and pull them over.
“We’re the petty police today really,” Alan said amusingly as he studied the wrapper of a chocolate bar he’d just consumed.
“Do you know how many E numbers this thing has,” he asked me in a tone that told me I was about to find out. “That’s unbelievable,” he added, still staring intently at the small writing.
I saw a car shoot past along the 30mph road travelling at least 50mph.
“That flew past us,” I said.
“All the food I’ve eaten has got weird stuff in it,” he continued, picking up the empty crisp packet on his lap.
“Al, did you see that car that flew past,” I tried again.
“Mono… monosodium glutamate,” he stumbled. “What the hell is that? Wheat Malto… maltodextrin? That sounds like a poison.”
A blue Micra with four young lads in drove slowly past, the occupants looking at nearby houses.
“Wonder what they’re up to,” I said more to myself than anyone else.
“There’s garlic powder in my peperami,” Alan said, sounded disgusted. “Why would they put that in there, that’s just wrong?”
As I looked up, I saw a young male speed past while holding a mobile phone up against his right ear.
“He was on the phone,” I said.
Alan’s head darted up so quickly I thought his neck my snap and within a split second the car keys were being turned in the ignition.
“That’s just taking the ****,” Alan snarled, spinning the car around and catching up to the offender. “I hate mobile phones.”
We shot after the car and pulled it over a short distance up the road.
“Do you have any idea why we’ve pulled you over,” I said to the young driver who was now standing beside me on the pavement.
“Mobile,” he said sheepishly.
“Correct. That’s three points for using your mobile. It’ll push your insurance up and cost you more money,” I warned. “That’s a good result though for you,” I added. He looked at me confused.
“The bad result happens when you’re talking on your phone and don’t see something and end up killing someone and then go to prison. And I guarantee you won’t kill yourself, it’ll be an innocent person. The fact you didn’t see us behind shows you weren’t aware of what was going on around you.”
“Sorry”, he mumbled apologetically.
“On this occasion, take it as words of advice, but you were very close to getting a ticket there,” I said sternly.
He got back into his car and drove off slowly, probably thankful we had let him off. I’d never had an intention to stick him on for the offence; he’d been honest, was polite and I didn’t feel like ruining his day.
Moments later we were behind another car whose driver was idly chatting away on his phone.
“Give him a tug, he’s got no idea we’re here,” I said somewhat annoyed.
Standing next to the offender on the pavement, I began my usual routine.
“Why do you think we’ve pulled you over?”
He looked at me blankly, and shook his head.
“You’ve no idea whatsoever why we might have pulled you over?” I asked in disbelief. He was talking himself into a ticket nicely. “Just be honest with me.”
He again shook his head, so I helped him out.
“Mobile phone perhaps?” I said.
“Nope,” he said defiantly.
“There’s no point in lying mate, we followed you for about a quarter of a mile and you were completely unaware we were behind you.”
“I wasn’t on the phone, check it,” he said pointing at his car. Alan leant into his vehicle and retrieved the phone and brought it over.
“It says you last received a call five minutes ago,” Alan said cheerfully.
“I wasn’t on the phone,” he said once more.
A genuine apology and politeness and he’d have driven off with no more than a ticking off, providing our routine checks had all been okay. Instead, he’d talked himself into three points and a fine.
“Have a seat in the back of our car,” I said mischievously. “We’ll sort it out in there.”
Once I had filled out the ticket, our man was still defending himself.
“You can either pay the fine and accept the points,” I said. “Or challenge it and take it to court, and we’ll all have a nice day out, it really doesn’t bother me,” I said.
“I’ll see you in court then mate,” he said before walking off.
He knew we’d caught him in the act, we knew we’d caught him in the act, but for some reason he’d insisted to play the silly game that ended up in him getting points. On the whole I dislike giving tickets out to motorists because the majority of them are decent people who’ve never committed a crime. I would suggest that every driver has at once stage committed traffic offences, and I am fully aware of that. But getting caught and then deciding to lie to the police is a silly way in getting an easy ticket.
“What an idiot,” I said. “If he hadn’t have lied I wouldn’t have bothered giving him a ticket.”
I looked up to see Alan studying the back of my sandwich packet with a deep frown.
“Disgusting,” he muttered.