• What You Measure is What You Get.

    Einstein : Not everything that can be counted counts. And not everything that counts can be counted.
  • About me.

    I know enough to know that at 04.00am it gets dark out on the streets. It has done this for the last twenty odd years, to my knowledge and will probably continue for the forseeable future. At some stage in this ‘future’ I shall retire and probably won’t give a damn if it still gets dark at 04.00am. Until then I shall be out there, somewhere, lurking in the shadows because someone, somewhere will be doing stuff they shouldn’t and then, well then I will introduce myself. In the meanwhile I shall try to remain sane and remember why I joined in the first place and try to ignore all the people who piss me off by making the job more complicated than it should be.
  • Opinions

    Any opinions contained in posts are mine and mine alone. Many of them will not be those of any Police Force, Police Organisation or Police Service around this country. The opinions are based on many years of working within the field of practical operational Police work and reflect the desire to do things with the minimum of interference by way of duplication for the benefit of others who themselves do not do the same job. I recognise that we all perform a wide range of roles and this is essential to make the system work. If you don’t like what you see remember you are only one click on the mouse away from leaving. I accept no responsibility for the comments left by others.
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  • C.T.C. Constabulary.

    A Strategic Community Diversity Partnership. We are cutting bureaucracy and reducing the recording of target and monitoring related statistics. Our senior leaders will drive small, economical cars from our fleet surplus to save money to invest in better equipment for our frontline response officers. We are investing money to reinstate station canteens for the benefits of those 24/7 response officers. We have a pursuit policy. The message is that if you commit an offence and use a vehicle, we will follow you and stop you if necessary. It is your duty to stop when the lights and sirens are on. We take account of the findings of the Force questionnaire and are reducing the administration and management levels and returning these officers to frontline response duties. We insist on a work-life balance. We have no political masters. We are implimenting selection processes that take account of an individuals skills and proven abilities for the job. Our senior leaders will have one foot in reality and still possess the operational Policing skills they have long forgotton about and seldom used. All ranks are Police Officers first and specialists second. We will impliment career development and performance evaluation monitoring of our leaders by those officers who operate under that leadership. The most important role is that of Constable. All other roles are there to positively support the role and the responsibility of Constable and the duties performed.
  • Whichendbites

    “We trained very hard, but it seemed that every time we were beginning to form up into teams we would be reorganised. I was to learn later in life that we tend to meet any new situation by reorganising. It can be a wonderful method of creating the illusion of progress while creating confusion, inefficiency and demoralisation.”......Petronius
  • Just so.

    Taxation is just a sophisticated way of demanding money with menaces.
  • Reality.

    Only in our dreams are we free. The rest of the time we need wages.
  • Rank V’s Responsibility

    Don't confuse your idea of how important you are with the responsibility of your role.
  • Meetings.

    If you had to identify, in one word, why we will never achieve our full potential, Meetings would be that word.
  • There is always a bigger picture.

    When there is no answer to your problem, there is always deflection from the need to justify giving an answer.
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A different perspective.

There I was, curled up sound asleep on one of the beds, dreaming of chasing that magical mouse and just about to pounce after stalking it into a suitable convenient corner, when I was suddenly and violently interrupted by the demented rantings of a madman. My defence impulses kicked in straight away, luckily for me I can tell you, as a cushion came spiralling my way at break neck speed. This was a particularly nasty cushion with pointed stitched and piped corners and possessed a rather nasty zip fastening. I saw this, luckily, as it hurtled towards me. In an instant my special pussy service (SPS)survival training came into play and with lightening reactions I leapt from the said bed, twisted in the air on the way back to terra-firma to see my assailant with a follow up cushion held aloft by arm already in the cocked position. As I landed on all fours I had to employ evasion and avoidance techniques of the highest calibre. You would have been so proud of me. My first thought was name, rank, serial. I had no intention of divulging important information. I quickly glanced around and I spotted a likely escape. I dived for cover under the bed, right to the back where the shoe tray is, slipped quietly in amongst the shoes and out of sight. Time now to get my bearings and work on an escape plan now that I was still alive. I had no time to fathom out why this sudden and unprovoked attack had come to pass. After all I had not invaded anywhere recently. And then it came to me……………

The crazy one, the one with the dog (bloody nasty thing) must have found my little present. Just then I was aware of the mattress safety zone being lifted up. I had to think and act quickly. My position within the shoe box would become visible to the enemy and my exact location would be know. I would be in serious risk. Then I saw my chance. I crawled out of the shoe box and out from under the bed, through the door and I was out, across the landing and down the terraced hillside to the low valley. I made a quick search for an exit to that secret land they call ‘outside’ but found that all likely routes were barred. This was a suprise as usually the madman with the dog (horrid thing) is normally only too happy for me to experience this wonderful place, as he so kindly puts it. I had to think quickly again as I could hear the thumping from up the mountain and hear his war cries. I was in immediate danger so I decided to seek further cover and continue to formulate my evasion plan. All possible borders were either closed to me or presented more risk than it was worth. I could brush myself against his legs and give my bestest miouw but I detected sufficient hostility to dismiss this stupid and foolhardy idea almost as soon as it came to mind. I was now beginning to feel a little tired. I had been awake, on a knife edge, for almost a minute. Surey now was time for just a little nap. But no, I had to be brave and continue with my escape plan. Not even time for a quick wash.

Behind the settee was my choice. Almost certainly this would not be his first choice to look. As I slipped between the back of the settee and the wall I felt the squeeze as my sides were compressed by a considerable force. No, he hadn’t got me but I may have put on a few pounds recently. Perhaps thats why he calls me lardy ? Well who knows ? Everyone knows that Lord Herby is my true title. I have a shiny collar to prove it as well. One has ones standards you know.

I was very surprised to see that he came straight for the settee. This guy is a lot smarter than he looks. He continued to rant and rave and another beige cushion with the piping an those nasty sharp zips, came crashing down between the gap, my gap, towards me. I was able to turn over and head back seeking some protection of attack from above and headed towards the coffee table. The sod clearly anticipated this as another cushion hit the floor only inches in front of me. I quickly turned again and headed back around the settee (the rather tastful black leather and leatherette corner suite) made a bolt for the door that had been left insecure and down the valley bordered by sheer cliffs to one side and the terraced hillside on the other. Once throught the valley I was into the feeding area, my instinct told me to go left as the dog lies to the right. This would have a stupid and foolhardy decision. Although the food lies in that direction but, in light of the current circumstances I decided to let this opportunity pass. So left it was, I leapt up onto one of the low terraces under the wide plateau. This has provided safety before and affords an excellent covert surveillance point with exit routes to north south east and west. I have heard this referred to as table plateau and I know that the humans sit around on the low terraces grunting and consuming their nourishments.

Despite the pounding in my chest it was then I heard it, the click of the guardian stone at the head of the valley. I heard no magic key sound as you need to gain access from the place known as outside. But the click to suggest that the madman had inadvertantly removed the guardian stone. But why ? Could he have been stupid enough to give me a potential escape route? Did he think I had got to the outside when he knew damn well I never had my own magic key to the guardian stone. I decided to lay low and consider the possibilities. I fully realised at this point that he could only have recently discovered my present and had discovered it neatly in a line on the bedroom carpet. I thought the rather moist dribbly bit at the end particularly tastful. I thought for a while that he must have got out of bed on the wrong side, as you humans do on occasions. But after careful consideration I dismissed this as it was clear that if he had got out on the wrong side he would have catshite between his claws. Clearly he had been able to avoid this as there was no evidence of any debris between his claws. I’, sure I would have seen this. My respect for him grew immensly. He was a worthy and conniving adversary. I began to feel tired again. Now 2 minutes at least had elapsed and I hadn’t had so much as a small kippette. If I can’t manage at least 40 snoozes I simply don’t have the energy for my proper sleep. And anyway, if he had not got out of his bed on the wrong side, why was he is such a bad mood ?

As I thought about my predicament (big word for a feline) from the safety of the low terrace, I heard the tell tale creak of the terraced hillside being ascended. I have learned this sound and know it well. It has been the trigger for food on many occasions accompanied by a series of feeble mewings and leg brushing. God you humans are so gullible. I thought about the evidence. The madman is climbing the terraced hillside. The guardian stone has been removed from the end of the valley. How could he have been so bloody stupid. I saw my chance and quickly bolted from under the low terrace, kept my claws in so as not to alert the madman of my presence and moved swiftly but silently to the end of the valley. The creaks of the terraced hillside remain reassuringly distant so I seized my chance and headed for freedom and safety through the valley towards the now opened guardian stone and into the perilous outside world. I began to gloat at how I had once again overcome the madman when suddenly I realised, to my horror, that I had greatly and rather foolishly underestimated him. A quick glance told me that he was indeed on the terraced hillside but not climbing, just walking on the spot, on the 5th or 6th terrace up and had been able to reload with further cushions. How could I have been so damn smug and shallow. Too late, the first fizzed through the air and landed only millimetres from my right shoulder, I began to weave and dodge in true and trusted SPS evasion patterns but to no avail. The second incoming took me across the back and a third took me across the shoulders as I got to the gap left where the guardian stone had been moved. I realised that the madman was a worthy adversary and one who demanded the utmost respect. He had fooled me into accepting an escape and it was I who was the stupid one (only on this occasion I must emphasis.) I had fallen for his plan and sufferred the consequences. The humiliation will be unbearable.

Imagine how I feel, outwitted by a mere human and a madman at that, even without the help of his dog. I could have dealt with this but not just the madman.

The mate of the madman, the one who likes to look at shiny things, a bit like me really, the one who normally feeds me and seldom shows me the place known as ‘outside’ was even exhibiting strange emotions towards me. She also was aware of my present and did not appear too grateful or considerate. She came along with some holy water to bless the sacred mark and wore some form of latex regalia. Must have been some powerful stuff in there as she repeated the sacred psalm of rawlf and bwarf during the blessing ceremony. She does concede that every rooms a bedroom but fails to understand that every room is also a toilet. Why they think I should belittle my self and sell my own soul to use a litter tray is beyond me. A litter tray I ask myself ????? Some of use still have our dignity you know. Would you have a crap in a litter tray ???? Of course not, so why expect me to. I need stress councelling as a result. The litter is a bugger to get out from between one’s pads.


3 Responses

  1. Cats …overrated.. give me a Hound anyday.

    Latex regalia?

  2. I understand that this, from a cat’s perspective of course, is the sacred gloves used to lift and then bless the present left for the female owner. Only when the present is found can the lifting and blessing ceremony take place. I also understand that the lifting and blessing take place prior to burial within the white ceramic flushing sarcophagus.

  3. I never could understand the appeal of cats, not only do they hate you and mock you silently from the other side of the room while you watch tv, they show complete and utter disdain if you fail to keep the food bowl topped up. I was watching my brothers cat the other day and as he walked over to the patio door, he turned round and looked over his shoulder at me. At that point I swear I heard him say “er….keys????”

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