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This is a question The Police

Sitting in my local pub late one night enjoying the landlord's flexible idea of what constitutes his licencing hours, a bunch of drunk blokes in raincoats burst in. Requesting to be served, one shouted at the barman "It's alright - we're not coppers!"

They were spitting images of Lt. Columbo to a man. The barman laughed them out of the pub.

(, Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:12)
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This question is now closed.

I've been ordered by a copper
To skin up and pass him the spliff.

Fairly proud of that.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 13:30, Reply)
i once knew a pc, and he was a complete cunt
the only copper i've ever known i inadvertently ended up sharing a house with.

i had just got a job in the big smoke and was looking for a flat so i sent an email around work asking if anyone knew of a room close to work to rent. One of the girls in the studio replied that her brother was looking for a flatmate...she seemed nice and after an inspection of the room accompanied by her (her brother was out - 'he does shiftwork' - i know i know i should have asked).

i decided i would move in.

i moved out a week later.

all you need to know is that he referred to anyone other than white, straight, middle class, able bodied people as 'them'...and he used to polish his police boots for four hours every night

apparantly he's suspended at the moment for attacking a 19yr old girl in the back of his police car.

(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 13:00, Reply)
ACAB Part 2
I has a cousin who was a copper in SE London.
Being a family man, he tipped off his colleagues that one of my other cousins was a bit of a scally.
So he kept getting pulled over, van searched - until one day they breathalised him and he got a ban.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 12:02, Reply)
Another two - warning - could contain aspects of urban legend...
1) Cousin George used to be a police constable many moons ago and I remember him telling us all a fantastic story:

He was called out with two or three colleagues to a rather messy suicide where some poor elderly bloke had thrown himself in front of a high speed train, rendering himself literally completely in pieces. After an hour or so of retrieving his separate body parts George and the other fellas had failed to locate his left arm, however hard they tried, and wherever they looked.
Upon informing the deceased man's widow of his demise,George had to admit to her that although they'd gathered most of him up, they were none the wiser as to where the missing arm was.
Her reply?
"Somewhere in Normandy I think - he lost it during the war".

2) Never knew if this was really true or not but my Dad (who was a copper at the time) told us a yarn involving a body found in the woods, crucially, on the bank of a small stream that marked the boundary of our town and the next (adjoining) one. Both of which, naturally, have their own police stations.
The story went that due to the enormous amount of paperwork that a body discovery entails, town A's rozzers carefully lifted it over the stream and into town B. Their problem now!
I'd love to believe that one.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 11:51, Reply)
= All Coppers Are Bastards.
Not entirely true but this one was as I think you'll agree.
One New Year's Eve a mate of mine had celebrated rather too well into the early hours before crashing out on his mate's floor at a house out in the wilds of East Sussex.
The next morning was lovely, bright and frosty, one of those days when the sky is clear and blue.
It was gone midday when my friend decided to leave and drive home but as he rounded a bend he hit a patch of black ice. His car skidded off the road and ended up in a ditch. Fortunately, he wasn't hurt at all and as he was surveying the damage, a car pulled up and stopped.
Its driver was helpful and sympathetic, and as my friend had AA recovery insurance, he offered him a lift to his house to call them.
My friend accepted and after arriving at his benefactor's abode called the AA and waited for them to arrive. His wife made him a cup of tea and chatted to her whilst his new best buddy went out for a while.
About 20 minutes later, there was a knock on the front door.
Was it the AA?
Was it fuck!
'Twas the Old Bill - or rather the so-called Good Samaritan's colleagues.
They promptly breathalised my mate who got a 2 year ban as he was still just over the limit and still pays through the nose for his car insurance. Calm down, dear, my arse.
The moral - Never accept lifts from strangers.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 11:49, Reply)
Drink Driving?
My first post from a long time lurker, so go easy.

Me and a couple of other medical students were travelling back from our annual Christmas Ball in 2003. The event itself finished fairly early so we decided to buy a bottle of absurdly expensive plonk and drink it when we got home. Unfortunately for the rather more zealous of the passengers, they cracked it open and started having swigs from the glasses they had nicked from the Hilton earlier. As we approached a rounderbout in the centre of Norwich, and stopping at traffic lights, my friend decided to get a comedy picture and shoved a glass full of red wine into the hand of the driver.

Cue the photo opportunity, and as we laughed, I looked to the left and shock horror, there are a couple of PC Plods staring at us rather menacingly, waiting for us to speed off into the night so they could chase us down. Bricking shits by now, our 18 year old selves realised our Medical career would surely be over if we were caught "drink" driving (although the driver himself wasn't, obviously). They wound the window down, and we felt our dinners make an unwelcome appearance in our throats as one of them leant over....

"Have a good evening guys, and make sure you drink plenty of water before you go to bed"

We nearly pissed ourselves with laughter and relief.

(apologises for the length)
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 11:42, Reply)
The stories below remind me ..
One night, I had to drive from London to Derbyshire. It was about 4am, and I was in the middle of some moors somewhere.

Just after I went through a very small village and out the other side, I noticed a pair of headlights were tailgating me, very close to my rear bumper. I slowed down to a crawl to let them overtake, and they slowed down as well. I sped up, and they sped up. I could just make out that the car was a dark coloured Ford. Anyway, I was starting to get a bit freaked, as we were in the middle of nowhere, and I appeared to have acquired a psychotic stalker - a la Stephen King's 'Duel'.

So I did what any self respecting person would do - I put my foot down. The car behind stuck to me like glue though, driving alarmingly close to my back bumper.

This went on for some time, and we got faster and faster, and I got more and more freaked. Then - we came to another small village. I though 'Thank fuck - civilisation! Just before I reached the roundabout, one Police car appeared behind me, one infront, and, as I pulled over, ANOTHER appeared alongside and completed the boxing in process. They all jumped out, and I was suddenly surrounded by 3 squad cars (all lights flashing) and 6 policemen.

Then - this plain-clothes woman (who turned out to be some kind of superior officer) jumped out of the now parked psycho-Ford-car saying something like;

'That's him! He must be drunk, or on drugs, from the way he was swerving all over the road, and the SPEED he was DRIVING AT! I've been following him for the last 10 miles. Breathalyse him. Now'.

I was breathalysed. Clear. Asked to walk in a straight line. Clear. I was also fucking furious. I told her, infront of all her subordinates, that she was a complete idiot for doing what she did, and what did she fucking expect me to do at 4am, in the middle of nowhere? What if I had been a woman? Why was she driving so close? I actually saw a couple of coppers in the backgroung cracking a sympathetic smile at my outburst.

Anyway - I was sent on my way without so much as an apology.

Sorry about that. Had to get it off my chest.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 11:10, Reply)
Traditional copper wind-ups
My old man was a copper for 29 years, bless him. Having just started in a small provincial police station in a tiny south coast town, he was subjected to many tried and tested gags, certainly the most memorable being this one:

On his first tour of the larger, main town cop shop, he was led down into the basement where the morgue was situated. At that point, there was an urgent phone call for the sergeant who was showing him around, so he asked my dad to wait where he was for a moment.
Imagine the scene - an eighteen year old fresh recruit standing in the middle of a dimly lit room, six or seven trolleys with shrouded bodies on them, tags on toes - when suddenly all the corpses sit bolt upright and start groaning.

My dad nearly shat himself on the spot, until it dawned on him that he'd been well and truly "had" by half a dozen rozzers with tears of laughter running down their cheeks, and tags on their bare feet.

Bastards. Wish there was video footage though...
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 11:07, Reply)
Aaaawwwhhhoooooooggggghhhhhhhaaaaaaa, officer?
My mate is a new copper down in London, in some hellhole. Anyway, last week he was working as the officer who books people in or something like that. 3-4 cops dragged in a big black dude. Apparently the big black dude was steeling tuna and bread from a wee corner shop. Nothing very exciting about that, but...... the big black dude used to be Shadow out of Gladiators! Apparently he is now a smack head!
Gladiators Ready? Needles steady? Injected!
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 10:59, Reply)
On an annual jaunt to Donington Monsters and Rock festival
Things had started off as they meant to carry on - as we hit the A12 my mate kindly asked me to open the glove box of the Sierra we were driving and get him a drink - inside was a can of lager, a bottle of lime and a pint glass. I obliged and we drove up north.

During the day we stopped off to see some friends at another boozer, and whilst as passenger I decided to tank it, my mate was slightly more responsible and kept below the limit.

Later that day, we were passing Grantham on the A1, nothing on the road but three caravan drivers all in the outside lane being twats and doing 45 mph as only they can, so my pal decides to undertake the three of them. We fly past only to hear sirens as a patrol car witnesses our alternative to the highway code. We are promptly pulled over and on seeing the empty cans in the footwell of the car, my mate is asked to accompany the officers to take a breath test. After a few minutes the other officer comes over to the Sierra and gets in and asks a rather pissed up me if I understand what is going on. I explain that the police must have taken umbrage at my mates daring race past those pesky caravanners and nicked him. The officer then pointed out that my mate had in fact failed a breath test and had been arrested and we were heading for Grantham Polic e HQ. The officer then asked about all the empty beer cans in the footwell, to which I replied they were all mine (they were bar one) - I then enquired if it was illegal for passengers to drink beer in a car - upon being told it was not I reached about behind the drivers seat, produced a half-drunk can of beer and said "well you'll have no objection if I finish this one then" and proceeded to finish the can whilst the dismayed yet powerless officer could only drive on.

My mate later passed the test at the station (though did lose his license a week later for being off the scale on a speed gun on his bike - he was doing about 140)
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 10:57, Reply)
a friend of mine how is a police man
moved forces a few months back, luckly he'd just pasted his inspectors exams so he was chuffed, unfortunatly he has to do his stint in the custody block booking in and out those who walk the wrong side of the law.
he had a choice between the largest custody block in england or a smaller one a few miles away, being lazy he opted for the smaller one, which as luck would have it was where they take all the murderers and violent criminals, but enough about that, this particular evening he took delivery of a couple of ner' do wells that had been caught burglerising a house. booking them in and taking them to the cells was the easy part, but then they had a coded warning that a bomb was on site, so one by one the prisoners were handcuffed and led out into the courtyard until the all clear was given, then one by one back inside, the cuffs takne off and back in the cells.

when it came to the young ner' do well's, the key wouldn't fit and after some frantic searching it turned out that they were old cuffs that hadn't been used in 15 years and shouldn't have been on site, to which one of the burglers inquired what would happen now?

my friend turned to him and said that they would have to call the fire brigade and cut them off, which one of the ner' do well's got the wrong idea and though they would have their hands cut off, cue him starting to blubb and then proceed to be violently sick over his partner, who at the stench and the retcheing was also violently sick at his friend and the thought of having his hands cut off.

it was alright in the end they managed to find an old key and get them back in the cell, still smelling of vomit.

aparently the cell block smelt awful for days.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 10:50, Reply)
Ooooh a pissed up litter-bug who likes to flash his cock, verbally abuse people and can't spell for shit. You must be a real hit with the ladies...
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 9:48, Reply)
Farsical march
The young socialist worker party were out in full force (complete with mega phone) in Manchester when the Iraq war kicked off. Joined in with a lot of sitting about in roads and marching about the place.
One afternoon, the mostly badly organised protest was underway. Folloing shouts of 'oooccccuuppppy' we flooded into a lecture theatre at the uni and staged a sit in. No one cared and after about 5 mins we started to trickle out realising what a pointless mission this really was. The march then continued to a major A road in and out of the city (the Parkway for those who know the area)...walking straight past the police station and into a group of police, mounted police and TAU (Tactical Assault Unit) riot vans. I'd say the police matched us 2 to 1. We were then marched back, in pairs past lines of filth either side - very reminiscent of country dancing I thought, had there been am jig playing.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 9:32, Reply)
The pridiest moment of my life
is still walking home froma club rather worse for wear, while eating a kebab. I duly threw wrapper of said kebab on the florr when I had finished. A rather nice rozzer of the female kind pointed out to me the error of my ways, and asked me to pick up said wrapper, and place it in the nearest convinient rubbish receptical insatallation. My reply to this was a tirade of abuse that would make fat cat and satan blush, culminating in me gettig my cock out, and saying suck on this bitch. I know it beggers belief, but she was actualy not to impressed, to the point where she got on the radio to some of her colleages, who turned up with motorised transport to cart me of to the local police station. My mate who walked past says he still remembers with glee seeing me cuffed in the back of a police car, cock still hanging out, sying to the young rozzer next to me " Give us a kiss, you know you want to". I also pissed on the desk at the cop shop while they were booking me in.

And my punishment for said crimes. A warning for drunk and disordily.

Yes it turns out in the holiday season in Newquay, no one goes up before the judge, as there are so many D&D's every night it would clog up the courts, so abuse the police all you want.

Apologies for length, but I'm a twunt of the highest order you see.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 3:51, Reply)
those barmy french pleasemen
Was interailing around Europe, arrived all alone in Grenoble in the Alps at about 11.30, having cleverly prebooked the youth hostel.

Find tram system. Find unfriendly looking ticket inspector. Ask him which tram to get to the youth hostel. He lies.

End up lost deep in an industrial estate. Flag down a passing policecar to ask directions. They ask how I ended up here. Can't remember the word for ticket inspector, so tell them a policeman told me to go there.

Promptly get a lift the 20minute drive to the Youth Hostel on entirely the otherside of town.

huzzah! vive la france. that's what our coppers could be like if they weren't too busy trying to catch Rob's landlord serving after hours.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 3:27, Reply)
Billy Bullshit
I was arrested for making up/exaggerating stories about the police.

Just thought I should mention it to some of you soppy twunts.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 0:01, Reply)
i predict a riot
Back in the days (2002 I think) before those tubby Leeds chancers "predicted a riot" I was in Leeds, for a riot. Well, it was the Leeds (poor cousin of Reading) Festival anyway, and some 14 year olds in Slipknot hoodies were causing a bit of a bother and vandalising some portaloos in youthful excess at the end of the Festival. The riot police stormed in and basically, caused a riot. Me and my mate, appalled at the unjustified beating that passers-by, tents and "the kids" were getting from "the man" decided to stand in between the warring factions. (i accept we'd had our fair share of loud-mouth-soup by then). My mate decided to harrangue "the pigs" with taunts of "Thatchers Army" and "You did this to the miners too" . I don't think anyone, police or kids understood us, and I got a baton round the arm for my troubles.

An absolute disgrace I think you'll agree, but there are some OK cops out there, like the ones who used to come into the off-licence where I worked, to have a drink whilst on duty like those two chaps from "Early Doors."
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 17:42, Reply)
All these posts about them using 2 cars to pull over one driver make me laugh...
Last year I was working for an IT company in London, moving computers from one office to another. I'd drawn the short straw so I was driving, going from Covent Garden to Victoria. I spotted a police van as I came past Trafalgar Square, but thought little of it until I pulled onto the Mall and their lights started flashing in the outside lane. I thought they wanted to get past so I slowed down. They slowed down. I twigged the wanted me to stop, so I indicated and pulled over to the side of the road. The first van pulls in front of us, a second van materialises behind us and about six officers jump out of each, all carrying mp5 machine guns, all pointed directly at my head.
"Holy fuck, have you got the wrong guy!" was the first thing I said. We were then held at the side of the road by St. James's Park at gunpoint (not just one gun either, about 12 of them) for about 45 minutes while they checked our details. They said driving a white van through London was "suspicious".
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 17:31, Reply)
Country Polis...
Picture the scene - 16, first girlffriend, walking her home - its past 10.30 but you have a pass out till 11 so its okay. You walk her home, you kiss, you hop on bike to pedal pedal pedal home across town, knowing you WILL make it home in time and not get grounded.

Zooming down main street, get overtaken by police car , no worries sez I as all lights working and tyres/brakes all up to scratch, police car pulls over, so I pull out to overtake..as I zip past drivers side, I hear "OI! YOU!", so I jam on the brakes, lock the back wheel, and skid to a halt, hop off the bike and trudge to the coppers window (shitting myself natch - I was only 16) - Look inside cop car.......



And its my Dad!

Enquiring as to why I am not yet home, and to go home where I can expect a severe telling off.... of course any retorts as to waste of tax payers money, catch real criminals, who killed Blair peach etc would fall on extremely deaf ears and would result in an immediate and total grounding (and a thick ear probably).

Still kind of got my own back a couple of years later when I learned to drive, and used to take the same GF to a local beauty spot to look at the stars - it was his car tho..and after about 3 months he got a telling off from his Inspector for having an affair as his car was always being seen at this place!

However in revenge, he snuck up there in his police car when I was up there pleasuring a naked lady in an oral fashion...and turned the blue lights on - and she fucking kneed me in the gob in her rush to get her pants back on...twunt..thank god he's retired and I have my own place....

Apologies for length - its my Dads fault again...
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 17:13, Reply)
With a mate of mine
pissed and stoned, walking along Wimbledon Parkside (v posh big houses) in the early hours. Elderly William pull up in the panda get out and start the questions, usual name and address and then they get to:
Cop: Where have you been
Mate: Looking up into his skull and counting fingers "Spain, France, Ire....
We all saw the funny side of it, how we laughed. Cnuts.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 17:10, Reply)
The fucking police
My story started when I was walking through Weston-Super-Mare high street in June of 1990 , and I saw someone running out of HMV (or something) being chased by two fat, sweaty security guards shouting in their walkie-talkies, clearly wanting to be coppers. Their equally excitement-lacking colleagues ran out of nearby shops (Top Shop etc) and managed to deck this thieving little scrote. I walked off, and I guess the police turned up and gave him a coffee or something equally lame, however, as I said I had gone.

Anyway, later on that night I was out on the piss in town (I’ve done it so you don’t have to, trust me. Just don’t bother.) and I saw what I thought was the same bloke again. I kinda recognized him, although was wearing different clothes etc. Naturally, I avoided him, he would have probably mugged me or something, despite the fact that he was out with two mates and clearly having a good time, singing and drinking. Anyway, the night wore on and I kept seeing these three lads, one time, two of them were in the toilet together chatting bollocks.
“Fuckin’ hell Stewart” Said one “You ‘eard that Andy got done over earlier”
Naturally, as we were all in the toilet together I was listening anyway, but my ears pricked up a bit I guess, as I assumed they were chatting about what had happened earlier..
“Yeah” said the other “Like he’d be nicking tapes from that shit-hole!”

I was wondering about it and being the pissed up twat I am decided to be the bravest I had ever been and ask about it.
“Squse me.” I slurred. “But I think I saw that, on the high street earlier right?”

They both looked round at me.
“Yeah. That’s right.” The one (I assume was) called Steward said, clearly wanting me to fuck off.

“Well I saw it – although I didn’t see him nicking anything, but I saw him get piled on by loads of security guards.” I told them, wishing I’d not said anything.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING?” The slightly thin, but fairly hard one replied.

It wasn’t until just before he punched my in the face, my nose exploding in a cascade of blood and mucus that I recognized him.
It was fucking Sting.
And that’s how I got in trouble with the Police.

Sorry. That’s a minute of you’re life you’re not getting back.
I win, right? Right?
p.s. People who miss points – this is an entirely fictional story. I made it up, based purely on the 'punchline'. Apart from Weston being shite. It really, really is.

(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 16:39, Reply)
Yeah with hindsight it may seem bit stupid but it was late at night- i wasnt hammering at along/overtaking wildly etc- i jus felt a bit of overkill thats all- and when i say speed up it was v gradual- it just knarked me thats all- surely the Police have better things to do than 2 car/waggon full of them pulling over someone for something so pissy.

i havr great respect for proper police tho as they do the job as best they can with f-all resources an too much paperwork/pandering to crims- take note Tony!
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 16:34, Reply)
errr Tarquins?
Tarquins Love Handles - let me get this straight. You've slowed down for a 30mph zone and escaped being caught, you then *speed up* again whilst still in a thirty with a copper directly behind you and complain about just getting a producer?

Are you trolling, or are you taking the piss, as speeding in front of police and getting away without three points is a) stupid & b) a result.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 16:28, Reply)
How could I have forgotten this one earlier...
One of two encounters with plod in my mis-spent youth, the other being when I very cleverly got done for drink-driving on a deserted country lane late at night (and about 20 metres away from where i was going), was when me and a couple of mates went to buy some smoke from an acquaintance.

Just after the transaction has been made and we've all got our puff (and in one bloke's case, three pills), we're suddenly surrounded by the most coppers i've ever seen in one place in the town (aside from the cop shop or cake shop across the road from it), and told to "keep our hands where they could be seen".

So i'm carted off in the paddy wagon with the other two, we're all fairly bricking it, most of all the chap with the pills. We're booked in at the station, individually strip-searched and put in separate cells.

Eventually i'm interviewed and let out at about 3am. So I wait outside for my mate who had the pills, the other bloke having been interviewed earlier and set free.

After about 45 minutes, the most off-chops person i've ever seen stumbles out of the police station, and we head off.

As it transpires, when the cops took him in for his strip-search, they started off by getting him to empty out his pockets. When he threw the 1/2oz of smoke on the cell bed, both coppers looked at it, giving him enough time to stuff the three pills wrapped in clingfilm down his neck.

What then happened would go some way to explaining why he was ringing the bell to be let out for a smoke or to have some water every five minutes, and would totally explain the bizarre game of I-Spy we played through the small gap in the cell doors.

He played me the interview tape a few days later, I don't think i've ever laughed so hard in my life.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 16:03, Reply)
Porno Films
A big fat twat of a copper I once knew called Cuntstable Graham Hoare used to bring the VHS porno videos that had been seized into the electrical shop where I used to work to have them copied by my boss so they could be watched in the police social club. Cunt.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2005, 15:58, Reply)

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