The Little Lush Lewis has forwarded it to us in Millbrooker Towers, and although I wouldn't normally simply reprint something verbatim, I did quite enjoy this one (even though its probably fictitious "author" sounds a bit like a Daily Mail reader).This purports to be a genuine email conversation with the Devon & Cornwall plod; make your own mind up about its veracity. Please excuse the strange layout, without retyping the entire thing I can't seem get it to read in straight paragraphs, so the format below will just have to do.
"Dear Sir/Madam/Automated telephone answering service,
Having spent the past twenty minutes waiting for someone at Bodmin
police station to pick up a telephone I have decided to abandon the
idea and try e-mailing you instead.
Perhaps you would be so kind as to pass this message on to your
colleagues in Bodmin, by means of smoke signal, carrier pigeon or
As I'm writing this e-mail there are eleven failed medical experiments
(I think you call them youths) in St Mary's Crescent, which is just
off St Mary's Road in Bodmin.
Six of them seem happy enough to play a game which involves kicking a
football against an iron gate with the force of a meteorite. This
causes an earth shattering CLANG! which rings throughout the entire
building. This game is now in its third week and as I am unsure how the scoring system works, I have no idea if it will end any time soon.
The remaining five failed-abortions are happily rummaging through
several bags of rubbish and items of furniture that someone has so
thoughtfully dumped beside the wheelie bins. One of them has found a
saw and is setting about a discarded chair like a beaver on ecstasy
I fear that it's only a matter of time before they turn their limited
attention to the caravan gas bottle that is lying on its side between
the two bins. If they could be relied on to only blow their own arms and legs off then I would happily leave them to it. I would even go so far as to lend them the matches. Unfortunately they are far more likely to blow up
half the street with them and I've just finished decorating the kitchen.
What I suggest is this - after replying to this e-mail with worthless
assurances that the matter is being looked into and will be dealt
with, why not leave it until the one night of the year (probably bath night)
when there are no mutants around then drive up the street in a Panda
car before doing a three point turn and disappearing again. This will of
course serve no other purpose than to remind us what policemen
actually look like.
I trust that when I take a claw hammer to the skull of one of these
throwbacks you'll do me the same courtesy of giving me a four month
head start before coming to arrest me.
I remain your obedient servant"
I have read your e-mail and understand your frustration at the
problems caused by youths playing in the area and the problems you have
encountered in trying to contact the police.
As the Community Beat Officer for your street I would like to extend
an offer of discussing the matter fully with you.
Should you wish to discuss the matter, please provide contact details
(address / telephone number) and when may be suitable.
PC ......... Community Beat Officer"
"Dear PC ........
First of all I would like to thank you for the speedy response to my
16 hours and 38 minutes must be a personal record for Bodmin Police
Station, and rest assured that I will forward these details to Norris
McWhirter for inclusion in his next Guinness book of Records.
Secondly I was delighted to hear that our street has its own Community
May I be the first to congratulate you on your covert skills? In the
five or so years I have lived in St Mary's Crescent , I have never
seen you. Do you hide up a tree or have you gone deep undercover and
infiltrated the gang itself? Are you the one with the acne and the
moustache on his forehead or the one with a chin like a wash hand
basin? It's surely only a matter of time before you are head-hunted by
MI5 to look for Osama.
Whilst I realise that there may be far more serious crimes taking
place in Bodmin, such as smoking in a public place or being Christian
without due care and attention, is it too much to ask for a policeman to
explain (using words of no more than two syllables at a time) to these twats that they might want to play their strange football game elsewhere.
The pitch on Fairpark Road , or the one at Priory Park are both within
spitting distance, as is the bottom of the Par Dock, the latter being
the preferred option especially if the tide is in.
Should you wish to discuss these matters further you should feel free
to contact me on XXXXXXXX. If after 25 minutes I have still failed to
answer, I'll buy you a large one in the Cat and Fiddle Pub.