Met police scandal

I worked for the Met back in the eighties in the heyday of Filofaxes and Golf GTIs. The Met was well groomed and shiny. Many of my happiest memories are of being a student working with an experienced police officer. Naturally, under such circumstances I was proud to work for the institution and felt part of something worthwhile.

Fast forwards thirty five years (yes, I'm really that old) and the Met is in tatters. A report came out today which confirmed what everyone in London already knows by bitter experience: the policing in London sucks. The police are - I can't bring myself to write the terms - so bad that the report's writer believes they may no longer have a mandate to do their job.

Without stating the bloody obvious. This is shocking. Devastating. A disgrace. Worrying, Sickening. And all the rest.

The only folks who can get anything out of this are people like me, writers. This present criminal substrate in which the morally corrupt can live, nay thrive within, is a boon to those of us with imagination and the urge to tell a good story. Having a bent copper is good fun IN FICTION. Last year, I wrote a first draft of a novel set on an industrial estate infiltrated by a criminal gang. To get a clean line for the plot, I needed a corrupt policeman. I consulted with a source and was able to construct what I needed. All throughout my writing process I thanked my lucky stars that such a man - for it was a man in this case - couldn't possibly exist. That no public servant, given the public's trust, could be so in the pocket of organised crime. I'm now not so sure. And that is deeply troubling.

I live far, far from the smoke (London) in a nice area with nice residents. Low crime rates. No drugs to speak of. Hills. Trees. Rabbits. Moors. Hell, I'm very lucky.

But there was an incident in a local town where I was shopping a few days back. A police van was parked on a corner of the street and more vehicles drew up nearby. As the police alighted from their vehicles with a boyish swagger, I was struck by my own inner voice. Could I truly trust these guys if I really needed them? The answer was; perhaps.

Now I can only presume that most officers are straight dies. They do a hard job. They deal with many difficult circumstances. It's not all handbrake turns, begrudging respect from criminals and the odd cat stuck up a tree.

I've seen the cells with the bodily fluids staining the walls. I've worked with injured policemen.

As a writer, I don't want to wake up in a world where the majority of police are bad and the outlier is the one good copper. Let's hope this doesn't occur.

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