I see dead people (again)

After my first G5, I then got a trip to the mortuary for a tour. Oh joy. My sergeant has offered me the chance to view a morning's-worth of autopsies, which I politely declined. Do you know what happens in an autopsy? Well, yes, obviously they cut up dead bodies in search of the cause of death. What I mean is, has the process been descibed to you?

On my mortuary tour I was led round by a worker with the driest sense of humour in the world. As we were standing in the autopsy room I received a blow-by-blow account of how each body is hacked up. The chest cavity is ripped apart to access all the organs, which are pulled out and individually weighed. The facial tissue is peeled off like a mask to access the skull, the top half of which is cut off and the brain scooped out. The brain cavity is stuffed with newspaper or anything else that comes to hand, as the mushy remains of the brain are placed in a plastic bag with the organs and sewn back into the chest. I was on the verge of losing my lunch at the description, so I know I'd make a big mess of the autopsy room if I had to watch that.

The technician then showed me the freezers, wheeling out corpse after corpse, demonstrating the best way to get rings off (you don't want to know) and telling me how each died. He described the best way to get particularly large bodies down flights of stairs (take a guess) and told be my task on those occasions would be to barricade the living room door so the rellys couldn't charge out to see what all the noise was. He was, in short, the most un-PC person I've come across since my training started, and my sergeant was stood at the back of the room visibly cringing as me and my colleagues either tried not paying attention to the more dodgy comments, or stood sniggering along (I was in the former group, of course). Proper gallows humour, it seemed, and the tech didn't give a stuff. He'd been doing the job for over 20 years, so I guess it takes a certain sort to put up with those sights day after day.

I see dead people

Lucky old me. Today I got to see my first dead person (well, other than my gran when I was about 9). I was quick off the mark when I spotted the 'G5' - our term for a sudden death, named imaginatively after the form that needs to be filled out for the coroner. I wasn't even due to book on for another 30 minutes, but I had to get this scenario signed off at some point, so sooner rather than later seemed to be the best option. My sergeant was impressed with my enthusiasm to go see a corpse, but really I was dreading it. Some people aren't that fussed, I just find the whole thing very creepy. But I have to get used to it.

Thankfully it was an old dear who'd had a very good innings, and died wealthy, so I didn't find it as uncomfortable as I might have done if it had been a violent or young death. Sadly for her, her husband had died earlier that month. I'm told that this is a fairly common situation, where one doesn't want to carry on without the other. Thankfully there were no hysterical relatives to compound my anxiety, just a thoroughly decent friend, who had known the deceased for decades. I spent around three hours at the scene, organising repairs to the door we'd kicked down, recording the medication the deceased had in her possession and searching the premises for significant valuables that might need to be secured.

I was grateful that another officer took care of removing the jewellery, so all I had to do was turn the body over to check for signs of foul play. Something always happens to a body when it is moved - the bowels are relaxed, so you get some 'leakage'. I had to conduct the search as best as I could, and tried to think of the overpowering smell as better than that of a decaying body, which I'm told stays with you for hours afterwards.

Screwed By The Job

Well, it had to happen sooner or later. Working in the police can be confusing sometimes - lots of hand-holding, talks from Welfare, endless support etc. one minute, then a slap in the face as reality checks back in. I've not received that slap yet, but I hear about it regularly happening to colleagues working in the same vicinity. The Job was described to me by a friend and more experienced colleague as being particularly vindictive on occasion, as well as unjust.

What's my own gripe? I put in a request regarding where I'd be posted some time ago. I explained to my line manager why it was so important to me, and what effect it would have on my life outside work. 'Absolutely fine', 'no problem at all'. I was chuffed. Until I got the email detailing that I had the exact opposite to what I'd been assured was no issue. I spoke to the line manager. 'Oh yeah, you did ask didn't you?', 'Yeah, I know I said it would all be fine, but I forgot to do anything about it'. So, could it be altered? No one else has a preference, just me, could I swap? 'Fraid not, set in stone now, nothing I can do'. Well, that piece of A4 on your desk with all the postings on it does not appear to be hewn from granite, and that's a biro in your hand, not a bleedin' chisel.

I'd previously had a huge amount of respect for my line manager, they seemed really decent. I got on with them well. They knew how much this meant to me, and they failed me. Worse, they couldn't be arsed to send an email to get it changed.

I'd been warned this job was full of disappointment, bureaucracy and frustration, and I've now had the dubious pleasure of experiencing it first hand. I am but a resource.

Searching

In the last seven months I've had the opportunity to search a number of properties, normally for drugs or stolen property. I've probably taken part in 10-12 different searches, and in most I've encountered something a little embarrassing for the occupant, and I don't mean their private stash of skunk. Thankfully on each occasion they were in another part of the property or in custody when such items were uncovered and quickly put back where they were found.

Whilst I'm not in the least shocked by what we've turned up so far, I am intrigued at the proportion of the population stashing hardcore porn, handcuffs, whips, dildos and other sex toys under the bed or in the wardrobe. Granted, the section of the population I've so far dealt with might be considered a minority (as they were in custody for theft or drug offences). Nevertheless, it seems these objects are a lot more common that I'd previously thought. And fair play to them.

However, I'm dreading the day when whilst searching though an 18 year old female's bedroom looking for her dealer boyfriend's stash of pills, I uncover the sets of handcuffs attached to each end of the bed frame (as in my most recent search) and she happens to be standing next to me. How do I react? A jokey comment or grin; pretend they're not there? Is there a polite way to deal with these things?

They Deserve Eachother

I joined the job because people preying on others really pisses me off. Thieving, violence, and generally taking the piss out of law-abiding citizens makes my blood boil. I'm quite happy to do everything in my power to make things as difficult as possible for those who don't play by the rules. I derive a huge amount of job satisfaction from putting drug dealers behind bars, even if it's for minor offences not related to their dealing. What small amount of pity I feel for the handcuffed 14 year old shoplifter bawling her eyes out as I escort her to my waiting patrol car evaporates as I look through her PNC record at all her other offences.

Many of my colleagues have a little chuckle when they read of a minor assault on a traffic warden. Whilst I can understand the sentiment (who actually likes them?), I couldn't really condone violence against them. Clampers however...

I have this job at the moment. A rather simple clamping firm employee decided to steal a very large amount of money in a totally traceable, incredibly obvious manner. He's clearly the bluntest tool in the box, given the thousands he tried to nick electronically using the company credit card machine and his own account. So a rather large paper trail lands on my desk, bundled up in a case file.

Naturally there is a victim here, so I should be willing to bring the full force of the law down on the miscreant in question. I am, but at the same time I have to confess to a fair degree of enjoyment in the knowledge that I'm about to stick it to a wheel clamper. What's more, I'm really hoping the proceeds of the crime have now been frittered away and that the clamping company will go under as a result. Why? because I hate clampers, they're barely legal thieves, and I think we should follow Scotland's example and outlaw private clamping operations as extortion. Even with SIA registration they are to a man a bunch of nasty thugs. F*** 'em all I say!

Sympathy for the Devil

A funny thing happened the other day. I was sitting in a patrol car at some traffic lights with my tutor, and a car pulled alongside. My tutor gave the driver a sideways glance, and then did a double-take. The driver was nicked for driving whilst disqualified and no insurance a year back, and then a year before that for the same offence - each time by my tutor.

'Excellent!' I think as the blues go on and the suspect pulls over. I get really annoyed by people driving without licence/insurance/MOT/RFL or whilst drunk/high/disqualified. He got a few months last time, he's a persistent offender, how dare he take the piss on my doorstep. 'This should be a good result!'.

So we get him out, have a word, and he pulls a provisional licence out. No 'L' plates on the vehicle, his missus in the passenger seat. The DVLA say disqual. until test passed. The missus says she has an international drivers permit and a UK provisional. She says she's lived here for years. I nick him. He's upset, protests he can drive, claims he's insured, his other half can supervise, his kids are in the back - I just want to get him back to the nick.

I book him in, in interview he's convinced he is able to drive legitimately. He's got his test booked next week, already done his theory. All the documents are in order, he can produce them at his home. We bail him to seek advice and see the docs. At his place all is in order, it seems. He and his wife are very pleasant, it really does appear that he's trying to do the right thing now. His wife is heavily pregnant, and as we leave I feel a lot of sympathy for them both, as does my tutor.

There's still a couple of sticking points though. First, he had no 'L' plates, second, his wife is driving on an old foreign licence - you're only allowed to use those for one year from when you settle in the UK - and third, how the hell did these people get insurance with his record and neither of them having a full UK licence?

We speak to a traffic sergeant, and rather unusually his eyes light up. The missus as a supervisor is a red herring - no L plates means he's guilty of the offence. We're chuffed. Well, actually, we're not. Over refs we discuss the benefits of sending this guy down (as will undoubtedly happen if convicted). We agree to sleep on it - neither of our consciences are settled. Surely it's a bit harsh to get this guy sent down for forgetting to put 'L' plates on? A simple oversight, surely. After all, he only got his provisional a few weeks ago, and it's the first UK licence he's held.

On the next shift, we call his insurance company. And my sympathy evaporates. They've not got a scooby about his convictions, or the fact neither of them have full licences. They cancel the policy on the spot. We run the circs by our sarge and get the nod to charge. The lying git is back in to answer bail next week. I can't wait...

This pay rise thing

I've not been in the job that long, so I've not as much right as those with more service to have a bitch about the matter, but FFS what do the government think they're playing at?

Way back in 1919 the police were treated so badly, paid so poorly and so fed up that they went on strike. Needless to say, this was not good. In order to avoid this ever happening again, the government of the time reached an agreement with the police that in return for better conditions, the police would never strike again, would not be able to join any union, but would instead have a Police Federation to represent their interests.

This arrangement normally works well, most police officers I've spoken to hold the PolFed in high regard, and it is staffed mainly by serving officers. The Fed look after our needs and welfare on all levels.

With regards to wages the normal state of play is that the Police Federation negotiate with the government on behalf of constables up to the rank of chief inspector for annual pay increases. It's generally the case that the this is index-linked, i.e. rises in line with inflation. It is decided on each June/July and implemented in September. This has worked for the last 27 years.

This year the 'Official' side (as the government side of negotiations is known) has decided to offer much less, with their latest offer being 2.2% - well below inflation. Why? Who knows. Suspicions abound that it may be revenge for our total lack of support for this government's force merger plans. Perhaps they care that little for us, and know there is not a great deal we can do about it. No matter, it would appear that this government is taking the piss out of us.

What happens now? Well, the government continue to irritate the rank and file (though I'd imagine most officers were irritated by the government already, prior to the pay dispute), arbitration, discussions, negotiation etc. takes place somewhere in Whitehall, and then probably a few months down the line we get the rise we are entitled to (backdated to this month).

Why do the government cause all this grief? They know what the reaction will be, they know they are merely eroding the support of hundreds of thousands of voters and for what? Probably the cost of one of the lesser QUANGOS, hundereds of which have been introduced since this government came to power.

This link puts the point across from officers with far more service than I have.

Scary applicants

Whilst at this recruitment event, I spoke to all manner of interesting people. Within the ten to twenty minutes I spent talking to each, I was able to get a grasp of who they were, and whether they seemed 'the right stuff'. So to speak.

We'd been briefed to give honest accounts of the Job, and if anything, to highlight the downsides. This is common sense, and what I'd been planning to do anyway. Under the old system, it was a regular occurance for new recruits to pitch up to HQ on the first day, get a frank talking-to from the inspector about the realities of the job and then it dawned on them that they'd have to work nights, shifts, have mean people try and hurt them etc. One account has a recruit leaving ten minutes into the job, immediately after the inspector's reality check.

Some of the applicants I spoke to were really clued up. They'd already sought out serving officers, had most of their questions answered, and were only there because attendance was compulsory in order to get the application pack. These people seemed solid, dependable types that I'd gladly have watching my back come closing time on the High Street.

Some of the applicants would have been entertaining, had they not been so serious. As it was I felt pity, and perhaps a little fear. I'm confident that the paper sift will weed out the teenager who was looking for action, preferably with the firearms unit as he'd 'thought hard about joining the military, but then decided against it as I don't want to get blown up or shot'. He seemed overly concerned about the consequences of a firearms officer shooting someone in error. He thought that routine arming of all officers was a good idea (despite the fact that the vast majority of actual police officers think it's a bad idea), and he left me with the impression that were one to actually issue a firearm to this individual (against all reasoning) he'd probably slot the first member of public to look at him funny.

One charming young lady with more facial piercings than I could count was passionate about cars, and fair play to her. I was right with her up until the point she confessed to being a 'right little girl racer' who 'loves driving really fast' and therefore thought a role in the traffic unit would be perfect. I didn't have the heart to tell her that joining the job would mean waving goodbye to the various spikes and loops poking out of her face, and that since I joined I feel I have to drive like Miss Daisy is my back seat passenger. Perhaps if she loses the metalwork for the interview and keeps schtum about her need for speed, I might just be seeing her around the nick in a year's time.

There were quite a few applicants who had just completed A levels or a degree. They mostly came across quite well, asked pertinent questions and seemed on the ball, however, I can't help feeling they on the whole lacked the life experience that seems to be a key part of being able to cope with the job. I wouldn't dream of generalising of course, and some of my colleagues are of a similar age and very capable. I know there's no way I'd have coped if I'd signed up in my teens or early twenties.

Next time I'm in the vicinity of the HR offices, I think I'll pop in and ask what percentage of applicants get through the papersift. I'd hazard a guess that the figure doesn't reach double digits.

Oh S***...

I think I've just put a dent in my career prospects.

So there I was at a recruitment evening for my force, answering eager applicants' questions as they clamoured around me, desparately keen to hear what this new recruit thought of The Job. I was enthusiastic, honest, entertaining (I hope) and above all setting the right impression with candidates and their families. I turned round to get another glass of water and was pounced upon by a very, VERY senior officer. My enthusiasm by now had been polished to a mirror-finished PR's dream. I gushed over the quality of the course, my tutors and fellow students. Then I stepped on a metaphorical landmine:

very, VERY senior officer "Well, that's very nice, but tell me, what problems have you experienced?"
A rather foolish me "We're in this difficult position where there are not enough tutors or vehicles to go round. We're having to double up, which is very frustrating as one of the students invariably has to take a back seat. It's a great hinderance and my unit really needs more tutors and resources to function properly..."
With that I got an icy stare for a few moments, and Mr very, VERY senior officer glances down at my name badge. I smile inanely. The icy stare melts into a puddle of distain.
very, VERY senior officer "You must understand that to give your unit more tutors would mean taking experienced officers off the front line, and that's not what the public wants..."
He thanked me for my time and wondered off, I got on with approachiing the next eager candidate.

The thing is, my tutors, sergeants and inspector are all unhappy with the staffing levels of my unit. They comment on this fact on an almost daily basis. I was merely voicing an honestly-held opinion that is reflected by my managers.

I'm half-expecting a 'chat' from my inspector on Monday.

I think I'll keep my mouth shut next time.

So long, farewell...

So my colleague with the outspoken opinions on illegal drugs has done the deed and handed in their notice. Not really unexpected, in light of the number of 'chats' they'd had with various senior officers. They jumped (as opposed to being pushed), and seemed rather happy about it. A complete change of scenery awaits them, as they are jetting off to the other side of the world to pursue a different career, and a rather exciting one at that.

So now we're one down, with another (my pregnant colleague) off in a little over a week. Enter contestant number three...

This individual is well-known for their griping, particularly about finishing times. On average at uni we work a 5-6 hour day. Some have come to take this as the norm. Last week the trainers picked up on some of the griping, and had a word with the whole group, reminding us how easy we have it, and warning us not to 'take the piss'. Sadly for this individual, they'd left earlier in the day, without permission. Oh dear.

The following day they got a bollocking from the tutors and a sargeant who was called in to administer proceedings. The individual was so upset they went home straight after the talking-to. I'm not sure if they will change their attitude, and I can see another early exit on the horizon.

Leaving so soon?

Police work is not for everyone, that's a given. The recruitment process is long and arduous, and should hopefully discourage people who are a bit half-hearted, or are applying because they watch The Bill religiously and think it looks like a right laugh. It should also weed out the psychotics, fantasists and the worthless numpties who would develop a severe case of work-related stress when trying to wrestle with a missing persons report for the fourth time that week. I must give credit to my force's recruiting department. As I look round the classroom I see a bunch of friendly, balanced and professional people, any of whom I'd be proud to have watching my back.

A mate of mine who has been in the job for a couple of years explained to me that there was a drop out rate on any intake. For his intake it ran to around 50% over the two years probation. This is admittedly very high. I've no figures on average drop out rates, but I'm told by some of the trainers that 20%-30% was to be expected under the old training system.

As I'm fortunate to be on the all-new non-residential training course, I am taught in a very different manner to those who went before me. I spend a month at university, being a student (including late starts, early finishes and all the other benefits of 'self-study' time) and then a month on the tutor unit, and so on through the training period. It means I get to see what the job is all about within the first couple of months, and the job gets to see whether I'll make a good copper, rather than the old system of months upon months of classroom training, at great expense, before anyone really knew who could cut it.

Many people who left under the old training system did so because the job was not right for them. Often, the role was not what they had imagined, and they were unhappy. Frequently probationers were deemed unsuitable. Whilst in the first two years of service, a PC is a probationer, and can be dismissed at any time, for any reason, this is known as Regualtion 13. I can see that after a few months in the job one of my colleagues is about to jump. Or they may get pushed.

It's their outspoken attitude to illegal drugs which causes the job some grief, and the job's attitude to personal opinions that is causing my colleague some sleepless nights. It's been suggested to them by various people in authority that maybe they are not really suited to the role, which is a shame, but almost certainly the truth. They are still on the course, but I think it's only a matter of time.

Another colleague has rather unexpectedly become pregnant, which is of course great news, but it means they'll be given some desk job, and all training will cease until their return from maternity leave.

Thus from the original 20 starters, I think we'll soon be down to 18. I can't help wondering who is next...

Still here...

I've been utterly worthless at keeping this updated. Loads has happened over the last 12 weeks, training is fantastic but hard work and I've not been dedicated enough to write it all up. Opps...

Still, I have my first leave next week, so I'm intending to put some proper posts up then.

So far, so good

With the third week of training now complete, it actually feels like I'm getting somewhere. The first two were very much an easy induction. Lots of small exercises, learning skills, getting to know eachother etc. No police-orientated learning to speak of, lots of early finishes, and a fair number of students straining at the leash, eager to start learning how to use our shiny new warrant cards.

This last week has been much more interesting. We've covered the basics of making a statement, evidence, licencing, offensive weapons, ASBOs, theft, civil disputes and criminal damage.

I'm getting to know everyone a little better now, and can't find major fault with any of them. I'm a little concerned I may be seen as a swot, as I tend to stick my hand up for the more difficult questions - I can't help it! I've done my homework, as it were, so I knew the caution from day one, could tell the tutors what a DIU is (Division Intelligence Unit), what you use a C22 for (reporting intel.) etc. Maybe some of the others know, but don't want to let on for some reason. I normally leave a little gap after the question has been asked, and don't bother with the stuff that people should know. Most of my info comes from chats with a good friend who is already in the job, and has briefed me on all sorts of basic stuff. Mostly I try and be an adult about it, and help fill those periods of silence after the tutor has asked a question, but every now and then (usually when a particular tutor asks if anyone else knows) I cringe a little bit at my own keenness. There's another chap on the course, slightly older than me who is similar, and I fear we may both have been pigeonholed as know-it-alls. Hopefully a strong performance on PDU (Professional Development Unit), where you actually do the job, will put things back on track. What happens on the streets is far removed from a nice, safe classroom, and forgetting things, or failure to act correctly there could have far worse consequences.

We're all really keen to get on the streets, well except perhaps one or two who have some fears about dealing with the public, and next week we start to learn 'street skills'. I'm not entirely sure what this involves, but I'm pretty sure there's no beatboxing or breakdancing. This will be followed by stop and search practice, first aid, and then we start to learn 'staff safety' AKA how to (legally and safely) knock the crap out of scumbags who want to have a go. Batons and noxious chemical sprays ahoy!

On week in...

So far, so good! It's been an easy week, lots of early finishes - I think they're taking it easy on us, calm before the storm and all that. It's all been about induction, and is reminiscent of my previous university experience. The basic 43 weeks will give me an Foundation Certificate in Policing in Partnership with Communities. Sounds impressive, huh? OK, maybe not. It's basically the educational equivalent of A levels, and we have the option to continue on to a Foundation Degree (similar to year one of a Ba/BSc).

My peers are pretty much without exception a sound bunch of people. There's the usual getting to know you stuff, which is progressing nicely. I imagine there will be a few people becoming good mates over the next ten months.

Wednesday was the Attestation day - a big moment in any officer's career. After a tour of our division's facilities, we took it in turns to be sworn in to the office of constable. This was done in front of a local magistrate, plus a range of senior officers. As we're the first intake, it seems a certain amount of fuss is being made. Most of us got our grubby mitts on the rest of our uniform at the end of the day. I resisted the urge to stick it all on when I got home. I did try the handcuffs out on my other half though - no, not for that purpose! They looked and felt like cheap tat, which according to a mate in the job is exactly what they are - £15 rather than his £50 cuffs which were previously issued. Cost-cutting at work, apparently.

On Friday we had a visit from the senior Police Federation rep, plus a Welfare lady. Lots of things to sign up for (and hence pay subs) - I think I've been relieved to the tune of £40 a month, but it all seems fairly worthwhile. PolFed membership, charity donations, life insurance, staff lottery, I've lost track of the full list. Like freshers fair really, but with much more serious consequences. It seems (and there were plenty of tales to back this up) that PolFed are there to haul your arse out of the fire in the event that anything goes tits up. Of course you might have dug yourself a hole too deep to get out of, but it's a comfort to know they're a call away if it all goes FUBAR...

Tomorrow all three courses will meet at my uni for some lectures, and we've been told the local rag may be on hand to record the occasion. Whoopee. I'm incredibly un-photogenic, so I'll be lurking at the back, hopefully well out of sight.

Day One

Well, it's been informative! We started with introductions then had a couple of hours of Q & A about the course. I can see this new scheme really is a departure from the training formula used for the last 60 years. There is considerable emphasis that we are students, rather than recruits. My classmates all see very sensible, well-balanced individuals, and it seems the majority are in their late 20's or early 30's. Of the 20 people starting the course, I can't help but wonder how many of us will reach the end of probation. It was encouraging to see that most of my fellow students are as excited (and concerned) as I am about our new career.

After lunch we were treated to a visit from the DCC (Deputy Chief Constable), an amiable chap in his 50's who spoke about the opportunities available, the policing 'family' and the changes our force faces with the proposed merger. It was interesting to hear him talk of the two different streams of information concerning our merger with a neighbouring force. He described the media stream, which is highly critical, insisting far greater funding is needed, and he talked about the unpublicised view. This is that with greater funding and an amalgamation of 'premier' services such as serious crime and firearms units, greater efficiency will follow whilst ground-level policing remains unaffected. I'm going to ask a variety of different officers of various ranks what their opinions are, as and when the opportunity arises over the next few months.

Finally, we were issued a basic uniform (short-sleeved shirt, eppaulettes, tie, trousers, belt and shoes for those like me who had purchased them via the stores), and a range of chunky Blackstones textbooks. Blimey they're heavy when you've got to walk a mile or so with 'em!

All-in-all a tiring but very exciting day...

Police Federation Meeting

I attended a fascinating Police Federation Open Meeting last week. Approximately 300 officers attended, predominantly from my force, with someofficers from other forces present. The theme of the meeting was changes tothe police service. Key elements of this were the proposals to merge county forces into regional entities, and the new pensions and other benefit changes. A well-known journalist, who did an excellent job of controlling debate, chaired the proceedings. It would seem that my force is being pushed into a merger with another force, and that this decision will be formally made by the Home Secretary this Monday. There is a lot of resentment from the rank and file about the proposed changes. Many officers are sceptical of promises that the resulting efficiency will lead to greater front-line funding. A common fear is that this funding will be used to recruit more PCSOs to the force, which the majority of officers disagree with. It was clear from listening to the proceedings that a large number of officers have opinions at odds with senior management and national government opinion. There was a tangible sense that a number of changes are wanted. The primary issue was funding - everyone from the Chief Constable down agreed that the force was under-funded, and this is having a direct impact on their ability to effectively do their jobs.

Learning to Learn

I attended a workshop on Saturday with 13 other new recruits, held at the university where I'll be based. I'd spoken to a mate in the job about the unusual request in the joining instructions to 'think of times when you have been curious, playful and filled with a sense of adventure'. He reckoned that, knowing who was leading the training, it would be lots of hand-holding and reassurance. He was right, but the day was enjoyable and useful, rather than a load of management-speak and new-age twaddle.

The day gave me some insight as to how the classroom-based learning would be conducted, and I was pleased with what I saw. It seems to have been very well thought out (and as they've spent two years preparing, I should hope so too). There will be lots of individual study, allowing students to work at their own pace, lots of assistance where needed and generally a lot more like the university experience, as opposed to the boot camp that is police training college.

Whilst discussing when and how we'd be issued our uniforms, I observed that when it comes to kit, the last person you can trust is a copper. The tutors were fretting that if the boxes of uniform for us new recruits turned up at the station we'd be training at, the contents would disappear in a flash. Quite why we can't make our way up to stores and collect it ourselves I don't know - we had to make our own way there for fitting. The sooner I get my gear the sooner I'll feel that this is all actually happening. It's been so long since I applied that the whole process has become rather abstract. I think the reality will finally hit home when I am attested (sworn in) as a PC, and my warrant card is issued. This is 30 days away.

PCSOs

This current government's insistence that forces recruit PCSOs rather than police officers is not popular within the ranks - it is seen as a 'dumbing down' or a weakening of the police. After all, PCSOs are not trained or empowered to the same degree as officers, and starting salaries for PCSOs are only marginally less that those of PCs. This may gradually change. There are suggestions that PCSOs may be given powers of arrest, batons and CS sprays. The original proposal that they operate as the eyes and ears of the police is being altered to provide police on the cheap - except they're not really that cheap. Certainly they are not recruited or trained to the same standards as PCs, so cost savings are made there...

It is possible that the unstated goal is to create a three-tiered European system of law enforcement - a national body for investigating serious and organized crime, regional forces to deal with other offences and local teams of uniformed officers to patrol the streets.

Training

Until recently, it was normal for all new recruits to spend several months at a police training college. These were run in a military style - parades, inspections etc. They taught all a new recruit needed to know in theory - but with no practice. The new thinking is that training can be better provided on the job, with shorter stints of classroom-based theory backed up with practical experience on the street. This may also work out cheaper for the individual forces when compared to months of residential training via Centrex. I understand that the basic Police Training College course costs forces around £25,000 per officer. Non-residential training puts more uniforms on the streets too - never a bad thing given the shortages of officers. I'm missing out on a long tradition that accompanies the police colleges - things like passing out parades were scrapped a couple of years ago. I would imagine it is all part of a move away from a more formal, military-style police 'force' to a less formal, civilian police 'service'. For example, senior officers (inspectors and above) are addressed as 'sir' or 'ma'am' - it wouldn't surprise me to learn that these might be phased out (though I’ve not had any indication that this might happen).

The Recruitment Process and Other Trials

So I quit my job, sold my sports car and got a temping job – I’d been told it was a six month recruiting process… oh dear. Now, two years on, I’m only just about to start my training. The reason for this? There are a few. I decided to apply just as a massive national campaign was in full swing, swelling applicant numbers significantly. Additionally the force I’m joining will accept everyone who meets the national admission standards, whereas many other forces cherry-pick the top candidates in any given campaign. Furthermore, Centrex (the recruitment and training organisation for the police) revised the selection process to give a much better quality of candidate overall, meaning many more decent candidates got through. The result? I will end up temping for two years in total, plus I miss out on the decent pension scheme by 3 DAYS! This last part is the fault of a former employer, a multinational so inept that something as simple as an employment reference took them ten weeks to generate. No wonder they are closing offices left, right and centre, what a total shower of bastards. Oh well…

More Info on this site

I spent a great deal of time researching what life as a police officer involved prior to my decision to apply. From speaking to numerous serving officers on a regualr basis, I discovered that it is both very rewarding and equally frustrating.

I hope to offer a detailed insight of what is involved in police work, what the journalists and documentary makers often don’t have access to, don’t have time to broadcast or space to print. I aim to give a detailed and continuously updated account of what police officers do each day. By starting this website before I begin my training. I also intend to give an overview of the recruitment process and the new training system. I’m on the first intake for my force of non-residential training – rather than spending months on a residential training course at a police training college. Instead I will spend forty-two weeks at my local university, out of uniform, learning the basics, interspersed with two-week periods on the streets accompanied by a tutor constable. There will also be a number of community placements lasting two weeks each, focusing on diversity.

Why become a police officer?

Ever sit at your desk wondering what the f*^k you’re doing at 2.50 on a wet Tuesday afternoon? Ever flick through the paper and feel your head pound and your blood boil as you read about the latest mugging/rape/murder just down the road? I did, for years. When I left university, I knew I didn’t want an office job. After spending my teens gearing up for a career in the RAF, only to be let down by my dodgy hearing (not quite good enough to be a pilot) I considered the police, but put it aside thinking I should do what my peers were doing and chase the money. An exhausting five years on, having slogged my guts out 60 hours a week (yes, really) for a faceless multinational whose annual profits outstrip most developing countries’ GDP, I decided I really wasn’t interested in the money anymore.

I’m not under the illusion that I’ll become a hero, I pay no attention to many portrayals of police work being glamourous. I’m not out to get my own back at the world, but damn it, I certainly do want to see more justice in this country. I know I’ve let myself in for an often unpleasant, frequently thankless twenty-five-year slog. However, it should also be constantly varying, frequently exciting, and most importantly very interesting. If I’ve got to spend the next 25 years working like a bastard for something, it might as well be something truly worthwhile, rather than a never-ending cycle aimed squarely at the bottom line or my bank statement. I’m not an idealist; I’m very pragmatic and just cynical enough to be able to see the advantages and disadvantages of this career.

Call me a mug if you will, but someone’s got to do it, and I think most people don’t have the guts to step up and take the responsibility.