I remember the morning when there was a group of kids pissing about in the park, it was about half 4 and I was getting more and more annoyed. I actually hung my mobile phone out of the window and filmed it. Screaming and bawling, trying to break the kiddies swings and just generally wild - quite why half a dozen 15/16 year old kids would be out at that time in the morning, is beyond me. Where do their parents think they are?
Anyway, in the end I grabbed my jeans on and ran outside to tell them to get off home. Well, you can imagine the dogs abuse I got from them. I got a mouthful from each and every one of them - nice. At that point I could feel myself losing my rag and drew my hand back to give this kid a crack. Luckily for me at that point, my husband ran into the park and stopped me - just as well really, because once I started, I'd probably not have stopped. There is only so much you can take, broken sleep, constant worry as to what will happen next - a part of me even understands why the Syddalls lied on the forms the signed.
Anyway my husband stopped me from giving this lad a belt and he also had words with these kids, tried to reason with them. The ringleader went toe to toe with him and I just wanted to see this little bastard of a child put on his back, but my husband is far more even tempered than me and managed to walk away.
I called the police, they came - to be fair they arrived within 20 minutes, instead of the usual hour plus or not at all, and I'd taken the liberty of following these kids in my car so I could tell the police where they'd gone. The police officers went to find them and came back to tell me what they'd done. How many ways are there of saying they did fuck all? But fuck all is what they did. Well, they told me they'd had a word with them. Wow!!! They must have been fucking shitting themselves.
My first question was "Why didn't you take them home?" "Oh we cant do that, we're not allowed to take them in our cars" WTF is that all about? Apparently it is something to do with insurance. Sounds like horse shit to me. So, if I go out later on tonight, get myself as pissed as arseholes and make a fucking nuisance of myself outside someones house, and the police somehow do miraculously turn up to sort me out, is someone seriously telling me that they wouldn't be able to put me in the back of their car because of some insurance issue? What do you think? Yeah, go on then, I think it's shit as well. But I'm not prepared to try it because as an adult, I'd be more likely to be a better collar than one that belongs to a kid.
Anyway, I digress, the point I make is that again, I was failed by the police system. I've got hundreds of these funny little stories to tell, and I shall carry on telling them. They are all perfectly true and I don't give a fuck if someone takes exception to it.
I will now tell you all about the officer who thinks it is quite acceptable to deal with pissed up kids in a very different way. It's rather quaint really, instead of confiscating the booze from them and taking them home to their parents (ooops, silly me, I'm forgetting the "insurance issue") this particular officer sends them deeper into the woods so they can drink in piece and not disturb people like me. HAVE YOU EVER HEARD ANYTHING LIKE IT? What a thick twat. So, let me think this through:-
1. Pissed up kids outside my house
2. Call the police
3. Police turn up (if I'm in lottery winning mode and they can be arsed)
4. Police speak to said youths
5. Said youths have a bit of a laugh with the police
6. Police officer tells kids to take their booze and go into the park where they won't piss off the people who live nearby - I.E. me and my family.
7. Kids go off into the woods, have their teddy bears picnic and then lo and behold, they come back out of the woods as pissed as pissed can possibly be, making more fucking noise than a football crowd.
8. I am woken up
9. I call the police (like I've been told)
10. Depending on lottery, the police may or may not turn up.
Now I don't know about you, but how fucking thick can you be? Instead of sending the bastards home in the first place, they send them to drink loads more (underage drink, may I add) and then end up being called out again. Talk about creating work for yourself. Wankers.
Monday 30 November 2009
Sunday 29 November 2009
Is it me or is the Police Pledge a bit of a laugh?
I don't expect this will be picked up by many, but to be honest, I'm not that arsed. This will prove very therapeutic for me - coming on here and having a good old rant.
3 and a half years ago, I decided to move house. To cut a long story short, we bought a house from Ronald and Margaret Syddall, a pair of liars, if ever a pair lived. When I say a pair of liars, let me explain. The house is opposite a park and whilst some would say that I should have known better, I asked the appropriate questions and trusted them to give me honest answers. They didn't, as is confirmed by the checking of the forms that theycompleted incorrectly before the sale took place. I actually looked Ronnie in the eye and asked him if there was every any problems with the park - he looked right back at me and said "No, it's a lovely place" First lie of many. Yes, I've taken this to a solicitor who confirms I've a great case to sue them, but to be quite truthful, I haven't got a spare thousand pounds to spare on dragging their sorry arses into court. I'd rather spend it on my kids. I believe what goes around comes around and one of these days, they will get what is due them and I really don't care what happens to them. The pair of them can live their days in misery for all I care.
Anyway, it was only about 2 weeks after we moved in - June 2006 (world cup year you'll recall) that I had cause to ring the police. Some little darlings were chucking rocks onto the railway line which runs near my house. The police operator called me Mrs Syddall....... that provided the answer to a few questions. The pair of liars had called the police several times in the past and I slowly began to realise I'd been a proper fool to have bought this house - but I'd trusted them and there we are.
Perhaps if I go on to share my Police stories - it will give people a bit of a laugh, if nothing else.
When all hell breaks loose in the parks at any time between the hours of 7 at night and 6 in the morning, I am told by the police to call them. So, I do, and I spend ages on hold whilst waiting for someone in the control room at Oldham police, pick up the phone. I've been known to hold on for anything between 10 minutes to 40 minutes - when it is in the early hours of the morning, I usually lie in bed with the phone by my ear, so at least I can try to continue snoozing.
Anyway, on the occasions that I do get through (because sometimes I get very bored and/or fall asleep again) that's when the fun starts.
Operator "Greater Manchester Police"
Me "Hello, can you send an officer out please? We have a gang of around 20 kids pissing about in the park opposite the house"
Op "Can you describe them?"
Me "No, the last time I looked out of the window at them, the 2 front windows of the house were put through, so you'll forgive me if I don't manage to obtain DNA for each of them"
Op "What are they doing?"
Me "Having a fucking tea party, running a marathon, hurling the javelin, how the bloody hell do I know?"
Op "No need for that is there?" (Usually the operator is becoming arsey at this point, which I understand to an extent, what she/he fails to understand is that I've probably been disturbed 3 times before I've actually made the call, and I am so pissed off I want to cry)
Me "No, you're right, there is no need for that, but if you check through your records, you will see that this address has a history - you don't need to ask all the stupid questions, you just need to send an officer out to get rid of them"
Op "Well what are they doing?"
Me "I've told you, they are pissing about in the park, I have to get up for work in the morning, I'm exhausted, I have MS, I need to get a bit of quality sleep, can't you just prioritise this call and send someone out?"
Op "Yes, but what are they doing..."
Annnnd so it goes on - sometimes someone comes out, sometimes they don't.
Anyway, here I shall end this for this evening, because I need to get some sleep......
3 and a half years ago, I decided to move house. To cut a long story short, we bought a house from Ronald and Margaret Syddall, a pair of liars, if ever a pair lived. When I say a pair of liars, let me explain. The house is opposite a park and whilst some would say that I should have known better, I asked the appropriate questions and trusted them to give me honest answers. They didn't, as is confirmed by the checking of the forms that theycompleted incorrectly before the sale took place. I actually looked Ronnie in the eye and asked him if there was every any problems with the park - he looked right back at me and said "No, it's a lovely place" First lie of many. Yes, I've taken this to a solicitor who confirms I've a great case to sue them, but to be quite truthful, I haven't got a spare thousand pounds to spare on dragging their sorry arses into court. I'd rather spend it on my kids. I believe what goes around comes around and one of these days, they will get what is due them and I really don't care what happens to them. The pair of them can live their days in misery for all I care.
Anyway, it was only about 2 weeks after we moved in - June 2006 (world cup year you'll recall) that I had cause to ring the police. Some little darlings were chucking rocks onto the railway line which runs near my house. The police operator called me Mrs Syddall....... that provided the answer to a few questions. The pair of liars had called the police several times in the past and I slowly began to realise I'd been a proper fool to have bought this house - but I'd trusted them and there we are.
Perhaps if I go on to share my Police stories - it will give people a bit of a laugh, if nothing else.
When all hell breaks loose in the parks at any time between the hours of 7 at night and 6 in the morning, I am told by the police to call them. So, I do, and I spend ages on hold whilst waiting for someone in the control room at Oldham police, pick up the phone. I've been known to hold on for anything between 10 minutes to 40 minutes - when it is in the early hours of the morning, I usually lie in bed with the phone by my ear, so at least I can try to continue snoozing.
Anyway, on the occasions that I do get through (because sometimes I get very bored and/or fall asleep again) that's when the fun starts.
Operator "Greater Manchester Police"
Me "Hello, can you send an officer out please? We have a gang of around 20 kids pissing about in the park opposite the house"
Op "Can you describe them?"
Me "No, the last time I looked out of the window at them, the 2 front windows of the house were put through, so you'll forgive me if I don't manage to obtain DNA for each of them"
Op "What are they doing?"
Me "Having a fucking tea party, running a marathon, hurling the javelin, how the bloody hell do I know?"
Op "No need for that is there?" (Usually the operator is becoming arsey at this point, which I understand to an extent, what she/he fails to understand is that I've probably been disturbed 3 times before I've actually made the call, and I am so pissed off I want to cry)
Me "No, you're right, there is no need for that, but if you check through your records, you will see that this address has a history - you don't need to ask all the stupid questions, you just need to send an officer out to get rid of them"
Op "Well what are they doing?"
Me "I've told you, they are pissing about in the park, I have to get up for work in the morning, I'm exhausted, I have MS, I need to get a bit of quality sleep, can't you just prioritise this call and send someone out?"
Op "Yes, but what are they doing..."
Annnnd so it goes on - sometimes someone comes out, sometimes they don't.
Anyway, here I shall end this for this evening, because I need to get some sleep......
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