Posted on

SATURDAY’S CHILD: Police stories


SATURDAY’S CHILD: Police stories

Social Share

SOMEONE PUNCHED a hole in the fence surrounding a nudist colony. The police are looking into it.

Three tons of human hair to be made into wigs were stolen today from a well known Port of Spain salon. Police are combing the area. When thousands of bottles
of perfume were stolen from the duty-free area of the airport, the police were quick to pick up the scent.

Almost every joke book has a collection of policeman jokes and almost everyone knows at least one joke that puts the police in a bad light. As Brendan Behan, the author, said, “I have never seen a situation so dismal that a policeman couldn’t make it worse.”

Take this situation. The police were sure the criminal was inside a movie theatre. The chief told the sergeant to surround the building and have all the exits watched. An hour later the sergeant returned with his men. “He got away,” he told the chief. “Got away,” roared the chief. “Did you guard all the exits like I told you?” “Sure,” the sergeant said. “Then how did he get out?” “I don’t know chief. He might have used one of the entrances.”

It is not that people, as a rule, are against the police force. Few people would argue against the need for an efficient and effective police service. However, they worry about the abuse of power by people whose educational level is not consistent with the power they wield. Sometimes, too, instead of trying to help, the police put up “roadblocks” to getting things done. This is what happened in Trinidad on Monday morning.

I left home at 6:15 a.m. to drop my daughter to school for an 8 a.m. class and to get to work early, certainly by 7 a.m. I did not reach to work until 9:30 a.m. and I was lucky to have spent only slightly more than three hours in what a newspaper termed “police brutality” and I considered being held to ransom. Some people were cooped up in their cars for almost five hours. The police had set up roadblocks throughout the country looking for “criminals” they said although mention was made constantly about the state of salary negotiations and the paucity of their remuneration.

“If they were looking for criminals,” a friend said, “they only had to look in the side mirror of one of the vehicles they stopped or go to the nearest police station.”

Stepping out of his rural church, Father Brown was surprised to find several large dead pigs in his garden. Realising they must have escaped from a local farm, he called and asked the police to come and take them away. “Sorry, father,” said the Inspector. “I don’t think it is within our jurisdiction. Surely it is the job of the church to bury the dead?” “Quite so,” replied the quick-thinking priest. “However, it is also our responsibility to notify the next of kin.”

There is the story of the policeman guarding an industrial manufacturing compound who saw a man leaving the compound every day with a wheel-barrow load of grass. Each day he would search scrupulously and methodically through the grass, looking for signs of larceny. He never found anything but grass.

One day, after he retired, he happened on the barrow-man in a nearby rum-shop and said, “You know, I always knew you were up to something but could never catch you out. Tell me, and I wouldn’t tell anybody else, I just need to set my mind at ease, what is it you were stealing?” The man smiled and confided, “Wheel-barrows.” There are some stories too bizarre to believe.

A policeman stopped a car at a factory gate and demanded that the trunk be opened. In searching the trunk, his worst fears were realised. He arrested the man and called his superior officer, “I just caught a man trying to steal an engine. In fact, the engine is still warm.” The car turned out to be a Volkswagen Beetle.

However, the police can very easily get to the truth of events. Noticing a man stretched across three seats in a cinema, the usher walked over, “I’m sorry sir, but you’re only allowed one seat.” The man snorted but didn’t budge. “Sir, if you don’t move I’ll have to get the manager.” Again the man snorted but stayed where he was. Red with anger, the usher went and got the manager who had no better luck getting the man to move. Although he didn’t want to make a scene, the manager had no choice but to get a police officer. The cop looked down at the stubborn fellow. “Awright,” he said, “what’s your name?” The man mumbled, “Joe.” “And where you from Joe?” asked the policeman.
Joe answered with a groan, “Balcony.”

One of my colleagues told me that the police learn their craft in the barracks where they’re trained and where strict segregation is maintained between male and female recruits. One young recruit was walking late one night to the barracks when he heard a voice by his foot saying, “You nearly trod on me.” The officer was aghast when it turned out to be a frog.

The frog then explained, “I am not an ordinary frog. Actually, I am a policewoman and I have been changed into a frog by my wicked godmother. If you take me to your billet and let me sleep on your pillow for one night, the spell will be broken and I will change back.”

The policeman protested that he would get into trouble but the frog eventually convinced him that he was saving her from a dreadful fate. He took her to the billet and sure enough she changed into a policewoman the next day. And that’s the story he told his Commanding Officer.

Tony Deyal was last seen commenting on a young lady. She was only a police constable’s daughter.