Archive for May, 2008

Traffic 4

Thursday, May 15th, 2008

There are usually two ways of doing things, the easy way and the hard way.  My question is this, why on earth do people choose the hard way so often?

Initially Gavin seemed as if he was going to be sensible, but then like a lot of people he finds some renewed confidence and changed his mind.  I suppose he had spent so long hanging around with low life scum bags that preyed on the vulnerable that he was too full of shit to realise he was in big trouble.  He was sitting on a rather grubby red settee, his hands were still restrained behind his back while we had a look around the flat.  Our initial search turned up signs of some drug use, a lot of empty Malibu and Alco pop bottles, several vibrators and a video camera.

I was in the living room with Gavin when suddenly he stood up – not always that easy with your hands behind your back.

“You lot are in deep shit you know?” he announce arrogantly

“Oh really, whys that then Gavin?” I asked somewhat amused

“My mum and dad are both barristers, in fact my mums a judge” he announced with chest swelling pride

“Oh that is nice, judges get good pension too from what I understand” I replied

He swaggered over to where I was looking at some till receipts.

“They’re going to have you big time and you wont get a pension” He hissed.

“Oh really”


“And just how and why do you think that’s going to happen?”

“Cos you haven’t got a warrant and you have assaulted me and ….”

At this point Andy G and Boris came into the room.

“Excuse me Boss, but you better have a look at this”

Andy was holding two hand guns – they looked like walther PPK’s and Boris had three rather nasty looking combat knives.  Not the sort of thing your average run of the mill kid on the block should have under their bed.  This discovery added a new level of seriousness to the proceedings.  I was not going to fuck about, the other part of team need to know that they could be facing heavier resistance than originally anticipated.

“What the fuck is going on here and where are the rest of the crew Gavin” I asked


“I said what’s going on and where are you’re mates and the two girls”

“I dunno what you’re on about” He snorted

“Gavin, let me explain in simple sentences that I hope you will understand.  We are not patient men. We don’t give a fat frogs arse who or what your parent are or do for a living. With me so far?”

He nodded

“I want to know where are the others and what is going on here?”

Then he fucked up once too often, first off he thought we were the old bill and then he thought he could fight us.

“I’ve got rights, if you want me to talk you’ll have to fucking make me but I’ll have you, you you cunts”

“Always happy to oblige a civil request Gavin.”

I turned  to speak to Boris and Gavin seized his opportunity and lunged at me and head butted me.  I ask you what a shit head, not because he head butted me, although there was that as well, but any dude with an ounce of savvy who has had his door forced open by three substantial middle aged gentleman and then effectively restrained and handcuffed with considerable force and very little effort on their part must surely realise that their situation was not too clever.  But oh no,  Gavin was sprinting down that difficult road.

The head butt got me on the cheek and didn’t connect as well as it might have, but it still hurt. I spun round in retaliation my left elbow drove into Gavins throat. His head shot back his legs gave may and he went down like a sack of spuds.  My booted foot came down onto his face with sufficient force to hurt him but not do any real injury, the blow to the throat would have injured him enough to focus the mind.

I moved my foot and bent down and with my right hand grabbed him by the shirt front and pulled him from the floor and threw him on to the settee.  I would gather from the way he lay there and was gurgling that he was not feeling too grand.

“Now then fuck head I asked you very nicely, what’s going on here and where are the others”

Fair dues to him he had decided to trudge that difficult road and was not going to abandon that decision easily.

“I’m not saying anything till I’ve spoken to my solicitor” He gasped

The fucker actually thought he had rights.

“Last chance Gavin”

“Fuck off”

“I’ll take that as a no then.  Boris the lucky bag please”

The lucky bag is a large black canvas holdall or tool bag and contains and array of hand bits and bobs that we need to gain entry to a property or should we meet with unforeseen resistance.  We also use it for transporting small stuff we might seize such as the guns and the knives.  Now we could just kick the answers out of Gavin, however that is pretty crude and brutal and to be honest the threat or fear of something can be more forceful than the act itself.  Britain and America are obsessed with violent crime, but how many people do you know who have been the victims of violent crime.  I bet the answer is none or on very rare occasions one.  However we lock our selves in our cars in case we are hijacked or robbed on the way to work, we invest a fortune in cameras, alarms, locks and a whole host of other stuff, that we are told we need, but in reality all we are doing is making ourselves scared.

Boris and Andy put the weapons they had found in the open bag.

“Boris the bolts please”

Boris smiled, opened the bag and rummaged around and then produced a pair of wide jaw bolt croppers which I took from him. Boris and Andy moved beside Gavin and without saying anything held him down and pulled his trousers and boxers off.

“What are you doing?” Yelped Gavin

“What do you think big boy?” Asked Andy G “I think the boss is getting low on patience here and you have twatted him, at a guess I would think he is about to cut your cock off unless you get wise and start playing ball”

“He wouldn’t dare, the police can do that”

The silly twat.  We all started laughing.

“What’s so funny” Gavin wheezed

“You” said Boris “You think were the the Old Bill”

“Aren’t you?” Gavin gasped as the penny finally started to drop

“Nope” I said and opened the bolt croppers. ” Boris would you oblige please”

Gavins bladder gave up the ghost at this point and he did a more than passable impression of the Manquin Pisse.  Boris Grabbed Gavin by the head and forced him forward and wiped the remaining urine from his crotch with his shirt and then took hold of Gavins foreskin between his finger and thumb and pulled the honourable member for Catford so that it was nicely extended.  I moved in with the bolt croppers.  Funnily enough Gavin seemed to want to squeal, wriggle around and move about.  Can’t think why!  Unfortunately for Gavin,  Boris and Andy were too strong and too experienced for some scrawny youth to be a problem.

Five minutes later we had left the flat with all the information we required and a much cleared picture of what had been going on and were on our way to join the others.  My cheek was swelling a treat and was bloody sore, but hey ho that goes with the job I am afraid.

We had the weapons and cam corders in the lucky bag and very subdued but wiser, drier Gavin in the back of the van, todger intacticus.


Thursday, May 8th, 2008

Harry the Dog left us.

He died doing what was right, so I don’t suppose he will even make page 96 in the Sun.

Thanks for being such a good friend over the last 42 years.

Give A a kiss and say heel to all those that know me.

I will look after yours.

I cant say any more, but you know what I mean



Do remember when we woke your deaf neighbour  up playing the spoons and that wooden deck chair you used to have.

You’ve painted up your lips and rolled and curled your tinted hair,
Ruby are you contemplating going out somewhere?
The shadows on the wall tell me the sun is going down,
Oh Ruby, don’t take your love to town.

It wasn’t me that started that old crazy Asian war,
But I was proud to go and do my patriotic chore,
And yes, it’s true that I’m not the man I used to be,
Oh Ruby, I still need some company.

It’s hard to love a man whose legs are bent and paralyzed,
And the wants and needs of a woman your age really I realize,
But it won’t be long, I’ve heard them say, until I’m not around,
Oh Ruby, don’t take your love to town.

She’s leaving now cause I just heard the slamming of the door,
The way I know I heard its slams one hundred times before,
And if I could move I’d get my gun and put her in the ground,
Oh Ruby, don’t take your love to town.

Oh Ruby, for God’s sake, turn around

Stay lucky.

Qucik update

Thursday, May 1st, 2008

I am sorry for not being able to keep the posts as regular as I would like, but I have been  away in the DR Congo.  That’s a place that is seriously down the pan and yet doesn’t seem to figure to highly on the news front.

I am having a couple of days away for some R&R, but will be back next Tuesday and then should be more attentive for the next couple of weeks.

Have a good weekend


Traffic 3

Thursday, May 1st, 2008

I got a call from the Scouse Git to say that he and one of the surveillance lads had made good time and were now in Danny’s road with a good view of the flat and our boys jam jar.  Their job was to keep tabs on Danny for the next few hours whilst the rest of the team got sorted and had a briefing update. Five minutes later I got another call to say that Danny was on the move.  With both Danny and Cyclops monitoring the tracker it was going to be hard to loose him and the Scouser could afford to cut the target some slack rather than driving around south east London up the chuff of Dannys car.  He knew what to do and was to follow Danny around and just see what what was what.

I carried on to make the RV with a Big Mac and the other members of the team.

I was taking a good mouthfull of Big mac (if you will excuse the expression) when I got another call from the Scouser.  You probably don’t need to know this, but in an effort to answer the phone half the lettuce and my dill pickle dropped out of my burger splatting mayo and stuff all over the place which caused much hilarity amongst the others.  Anyway the Scouse Git told me that Danny had been to a school a couple of miles away from his gaff and had “chatted” to a girl aged about 13 or 14.

I need to tell you that our little teams have been doing a lot of work with residents associations in order to obtain ASBOs against certain little shit bags.  For his part the Scouse Git has been doing a lot of work in his native Liverpool and his accent gets stronger.  If you are from Merseyside then please don’t take this too personally but the accent gets right on my fucking tits.  There I’ve said and if you’re offended well – sorry like whack.

“I have to be honest boss and say she looks sort of geeky kid like” quipped Scouser.

“How do you mean?” I asked

“Well she didn’t look the sort of bird who would hang around with a scroate like our boy, but she was all over him like a fucking rash like.  I thought she was gonna shag ‘im in the street on the bonnet of his fookin car like”

“I see” I said

“Oh yeah all her mates were there an all like and he was givin’ her plenty of smelly finger like and they were all well impressed woz the others like”.  Smelly finger, what a quaint turn of phrase, still, say what you like about him but he is succinct and I was left in no doubt about what had been going on.


“Yeah her mates like”

“And this was in broad daylight outside the school?” I asked rather surprised.

“Oh yeah”

“What about teachers?”

“What about them like,  outside school time outside school property, they just wanted to fuck off ‘ome like”

“Where are they now?”

“The geeky bird and ‘im are back at his place”

The pre op briefing had already been done yesterday.  All members of the team knew the basic story and all I had to do was fill them in on the details of who was who and where we were going.  The objective of this job was always very simple, find the girl as quickly as possible and return her to her parents.  If we could not find her then find someone who would probably be able to lead us to her and either follow them to her or persuade them to tell us where she is.

The basic plan was for the address and car to be watched and for Scouse Git and Obo1.  Obo1 being a 100% surveillance bod would get photos or video and any other support we might need.  Should Danny leave then they would follow them off. Support for the obo team would be given by Benny the Boat, BF, Skinny Bob and Andy G who would be in one van and were car three zero.

Myself, Boris, Dave H and Obo2 would then take over the obo on Dannys flat and were  car three one.  Scouse Git (SG) and Obo1 were inn the car and would be Car sixty nine.  Why sixty nine? Well if the truth be known at some stage during the op we are bound to say “Car sixty nine where are you?”  Chortle chortle.  I know, its juvenile but its a tradition and makes us happy, so what the fuck.

Danny would be referred to as the punter and Sam as the fare.

The reason for these call signs was so that when using radios should anyone over hear the transmissions they would simply think we were mini cabs.  For example if Danny moved off and had Sam on board the message would be “Hello three zero, six nine here just leaving the last address with the fare onboard”  If she wasn’t with him the message would be something like “Hello three zero, six nine here I have the punter but he’s not sure of the address”

We hoped that Sam was with Danny at his flat, but if she wasn’t the surveillance should give us some leads as to where she was.

Being winter it was dark early which meant we would have the cover of darkness in which to move less conspicuously, but it was frigging freezing and it is no joke sitting about in a car or van for long periods with no heating going.

At about 19.30 Car 69 called in “Hello three zero, six nine here I have the punter and his black friend and two girls on board but they are not sure of the address”

“Thanks six nine keep us posted”

Boris punted our van from where we were on holding and parked up in Dannys street where we could see the flat.  From where we were we could see there was a light on in the flat.  Scouse Git had said that Danny and the black lad had left with two girls.  I had seen one girl at the window earlier in the afternoon and there was the one that Danny had picked up from school.  I had no reason to believe that there was another girl in there, but it was safe to assume that the other lad – Gavin was still in.

five minutes later the phone rang, it was BF to say that they were in Stanstead Road heading towards Forest Hill.  I told BF that we thought Gavin was still in the flat and that we were going to pop up for a chat and to let us know pronto if the others should start heading back our way.

It was time to get ready.  The youths we were dealing with were a bit of an unknown quantity, but we had no doubt that they were likely to be handy which is why this was a good time to be wearing body armour.   The others had theirs on, but I had to change in the back of the van.  I use a lightweight covert item which offers a high level of protection without being too heavy.  A costly item at £560 but well worth it.  However there is a danger that people can think they are invincible just because they are wearing body armour.  There is no substitute for not letting anyone get that close to you in the first instance and for not allowing a situation to get out of hand.  Its all about controlling the play.  Haviong said that there are times when you cock it up and it all goes Pete Tong.

Five minutes later and I was standing outside Danny’s front door with Andy G and Boris standing to my right out of sight.  I could hear music from inside the flat and tried ringing the door bell.  Nothing happened.  I rang it again and still nothing.  Maybe it’s broken rang again and also knocked on the door when I hear “Keep your fucking hair on I’m coming” and the door was flung open by the youth I had seen at the window and I believed to be Gavin

“Who are you, what the fuck do you want” He barked in a trong south London accent

“Are you Gavin?” I asked.  He was visibly taken aback

“Who are you?” he sneered back and I detected something in his voice.  Actually it was his accent, it was not quite so London and more than a hint of posh home counties.

“I’m Uncle Norman” I said quietly and firmly

He looked dumbfounded “But I don’t have an Uncle Norman”

My right hand drove into his throat as if to crab him but instead of grabbing I pushed through,  whilst at the same time my right leg went behind his legs.  The force of the blow to the throat caused Gavin to shoot backwards and trip over my leg.  He hit the floor like a sack of shit and in one movement I was in kneeling on his head.  Andy G and Boris were in the door was closed and they were into the flat checking to see who else was there.  The force of the blow to the throat, the shock and the pain of having a 105kilo chap kneel on the side of your head meant that Gavin really didn’t feel like fighting.  However there is no pint loosing an advantage and as I said it’s all about control.  I rolled him on to his front and yanked his hand behind his back and restrained them using two cable ties as handcuffs.  There are handcuffs made from this material but for legal reasons we don’t use them.

Boris and Andy were back and confirmed the flat was clear.

Poor Old Gavin was gibbering by this stage and kept saying “You’ve made a dreadful mistake sir, You’ve made a dreadful mistake”  There was no mistaking the public school accent now.

I took hold of the hair on the top of Gavin’s head and pulled him none to gently to his feet and pushed him face first against the hall wall with a hefty thud

“Please don’t hurt me you have made a mistake you have the wrong person”

I spun him round so his back was to the wall

“And just why have I made a mistake Gavin” I asked quietly

“Because I told you I don’t have an Uncle Norman”

I patted him gently on the side of the face.

“You do now my old son”