It was about 6.15 in the evening when the doorbell rang. I was expecting no visitors or Amazon parcels and nor was my wife. Alexa confirmed as much.
I went to the front door and peered through the spyhole. there in front if me stood a young and uniformed policeman.
I could not imagine why he had called.
I opened the door and said “Good evening”
He responded by saying that he had been deputed to ask all the house owners about an incident.
Grateful that he was not employed to cross-examine me about various of my more intemperate posts on X decrying the state of the country, its government, politicians and the woke brigade I asked him to elucidate.
I chose the word precisely because it would signal to him that I was at least educated to a standard the modern police service struggle to attain, particularly in the upper echelons.
He muttered that 2 nights ago there had been a nasty mugging at the Superstore across the road. Had I seen anything or anybody?
I asked him for more details: time, gender of the parties involved, whether any serious injuries had been sustained by the victim, etc.
He said that he couldn’t divulge any details and I took the opportunity to remind him that without any facts I could hardly be expected to recall anything pertinent to his enquiry.
He looked puzzled at my reply and fumbled with his notebook and pencil.
“Just anything you might have heard or seen is what I need” he said.
I told him that, as was the case, I had seen or heard nothing out of ordinary all week as my wife and I were both retired and led quiet lives these days.
I did then mention that a few months ago some vandals had broken into a neighbour’s car but that was the limit of my knowledge of untoward happenings in the close.
He thanked me and turned to go, scribbling in his notebook.
I said “Are you the only one making these enquiries about an apparent mugging?”
“No” he said, “ there are a few of us asking around nearby streets“.
“It might aid your enquiries if you were given leave to expand on the mere word ‘mugging’ and provide some detailed information to inform potential witnesses of the circumstances of this alleged attack” I opined but his imagination was not caught and he wandered off to trudge further around the close in his unrewarding endeavours.
I felt a little sorry for him and his futile questioning and pondered briefly who had sent him on this mission. Nobody with a working brain cell, that was for sure.
I closed the door remembering the bobbies of my youth. Fearsome figures, controlling the neighbourhood by the force of their will and the odd backhander.
Ah well, times change. Not always for the better. We all felt safer then.
When we had a Police Force, not a Police Service.
I worry for the several hundred Afghans, coming soon to a hotel near you.
Foootsoldier Says… 