Sitting at home contemplating life and the universe, and everything has suddenly come clear to me. I have solved the meaning of life and not a drop of alcohol has been drunk, only copious amounts of coffee from a new machine that kicks out caffeine drinks two to the dozen by means of hateful non recyclable plastic capsules. That’s a battle with my conscience I am going to have to tussle with later.
Policing. Of course we beat prisoners up in the cells, and plant evidence on people. Don’t we? It’s what I am regularly accused of when I arrest a young lad who is under the influence of drugs or alcohol. ‘Yeah, I know a mate who was beaten up’. It is always the mate or a friend of a mate, and no doubt they believe it. And in reality, when I joined the police in 1990, I wasn’t sure until the day I went down to Custody for the first time, whether Police did beat prisoners up or not. I soon realised, that Police don’t have the energy and had far too much paper work to do.
‘Police Search Hundreds Of Children’ gives the impression of 7 year olds being spun outside their primary schools, hands and feet spread with police dogs snarling on strained leashes. In fact, I have looked up at several 6’4″ ‘Children’ at 4 in the morning just after a street fight involving serious injuries. The devils in the detail.