TOUGH times ahead on the thin blue line as HQ called them all in to tell them they’re about to have £350 a month slashed off their pay packets.
“Serves the beggars right,” you might say. “They’ve had it too good for too long, and I’m glad their gravy train is coming off the rails. I wish I got £30,000 a year for enjoying nice leisurely walks around rural Bassetlaw,” etc.
Then pick up what is now essential reading for me – page 2 of the Guardian every week.
Last Fridays included:
l A nice chap who waved his tackle at officers from his cell, but only after emptying his bowels all over it, and then hosing it down with his own urine;
l A Clowne yob who battered his own MUM, let alone the cops who turned up;
l A drug addict who saw fit to rob a gentleman with learning disabilities of all his worldly possessions;
l An idiot who wrecked a golf course after a botched attempt to kill himself;
So whilst you might like to follow my oft-trumpeted lead and clobber plod with their own metaphorical truncheons – just remember, they have to clean up after these idiots day in, day out.
Give ‘em a pay rise, I say – mind how you go.