This is one of those ‘pull up a sandbag and I’ll tell you a war story’ posts…
There’s a shop in Broadway, SW1, called the Falklands Shop.
It is a celebration of all things Falklandish.
Sheep, mainly.
Interestingly enough the window display completely fails to mention landmines (of which there are still many down there in the South Atlantic).
Fifty-four paces from the front door of this shop is the front door of New Scotland Yard.
You’ve probably seen the frontage in a hundred films, news bulletins or even media photographs; a large slab of office block fronted with a triangular, revolving sign.
This vista has been updated in these ‘troubled times’.
Many CCTV cameras and two armed civilian police officers.
I walked past the place six times today.
On the fifth walk past I wondered what would happen to me if I stopped, whipped out my camera and took a photograph of the building?
Yeah, it isn’t too hard to hypothesise that the boys in blue would apprehend me, ask me a million questions and generally make life pretty damn unbearable.
Because, in these enlightened times, taking photographs is illegal.
Oh yes it is!
They just haven’t told you yet.
Anyway, this isn’t a rant about the way our freedoms are being withdrawn with our tacit consent.
This is a rant about the boys in blue.
When I carried weapons for a living we did range practice every week.
We did live-fire drills in mockup scenarios every other month.
And we did drills with laser devices whenever the commanding officer of No 4 Wing, 2nd Allied Tactical Air Force (Group Captain J.R. Walker RAF, AFC, DFC and a number of other gongs, including one earned for spraying a Jaguar GR1 all over the Scottish countryside instead of the village it was trying to merge with) deemed we needed.
Which usually occurred at something like 02.00 on a Sunday morning.
Bastard.
Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is for all of us (except the medics, padre and bandsmen), our weapons were part of our toolset.
Even if we were flight-line mechanics, suppliers, MT drivers – no matter what our ‘real’ trade was, we lived with and depended on our weapons.
Some of us even fired our weapons in anger.
That we did with such effect was a testimony to our training.
And we were professional about them, at all times.
Back to the boys in blue, today.
I sincerely hope those things weren’t loaded.
Because the plods heads weren’t.
And their attitudes were – without exception – extraordinarily unprofessional.
Bloody hell, these people are supposed to be trained?
Really?
Well I don’t believe it.
Overweight civilian cops toting (presumably) armed weapons whilst looking – at best, half asleep and at worst, completely out of it – actually increased the fear factor in me.
Instead of reducing it.
Incorrectly-carried at all times, tight in to the body of the carrier (and therefore rotating outwards across the street as these plods meandered around outside the building they were supposed to be protecting), straps in the way, trigger fingers nowhere near where they should have been.
Once again the phrase ‘armed police’ looks seriously not good.
These civilians should never be armed.
They barely looked capable of being in charge of a pencil, let alone a device that propels a small piece of metal forwards faster than the speed of sound.
Amateurs.
B.
Now, now . . . I’m sure they get their annual quals. What more does one need?
On a parallel, our Navy base guards wander up and down the aisles of our daily bus checking ID, with all manner of handguns hanging out in space. For the wrong guy, it’s a veritable buffet.
I prefer A Galco CG-3 with a 1911 on board, condition 1 – or a Kimber KM-3 tactical paddle.
Of course, I live in that primitive country where handguns outnumber people three to one.
I was terrified to learn not that long ago that French police (or is it gendarmes? Because we are blessed with about a dozen different breeds of rozzer over here) are actually allowed to take their service weapons home. Yes, you understood: off-duty officers are authorised to carry their weapons about their person, take them home, maybe shot the neighbour’s cat for peeing in their flower beds…
Having armed police is bad enough. Having armed police who are allowed to tote their guns when off-duty and out of uniform is even scarier.
I do agree with you here. The Home Office really shouldn’t be blithely handing out semi-automatics to the average Plod. This is not America for goodness sake!
You mean America, where we don’t let the government run everything? :o)
Here, our police are REQUIRED to take their weapons home, and most of us tend to be thankful for it, rather than frightened of it.
Bulldog that’s a reasonable point.
In France I am scared by the idea of off-duty cops with their handguns shoved in their pockets. Not long ago three off-duty officers came out of a bar, had an altercation with a guy in the street, and shot him. Even though he apparently was not a threat to them or others.
In another incident a few years ago, a young officer was shot dead by a colleague. They were drinking after their shift, and playing russian roulette. He got unlucky.
Nice.
I suppose armed police are OK. Providing they are not also morons.
Quite frankly I think there is a lot more to be worried about than qualified, trained (or even Bren, partially trained)police officers taking their weapons home.
Surely we should be focussing on the bad guys carrying guns here, not the good guys. I think our cross Atlantic brothers are bonkers when it comes to their gun laws but they do have a point when they say that guns don’t kill people, people kill people.