Breaking News! Right Hand asks Left Hand: "What you doing?"

It isn't often that a Chief Constable is saved by the revelation that his force consists of a series of bumbling, bollocksless morons. The latest on the de Menezes shooting is that Sir Ian Blair was only guilty of not having a clue what the rest of his force were already saying. Apparently even off-duty Met officers watching the cricket at Lords knew before Sir Ian did that the victim of the Stockwell shooting was a Brazilian member of public and not even vaguely a terror suspect. It appears no one quite dared tell the Chief that he had rushed onto television a tad too soon, and instead they chose to chuckle behind their hands as he made more and more of a fool of himself.

Sir Ian Blair can console himself in the knowledge that he is not the only Chief Officer not to have the slightest grip on what his troops are doing.

I am reminded of an incident I attended some time ago in the nether regions of Blandmore. A couple had phoned in reporting racist graffiti on their garden fence. I was informed by Control Room that the couple had been waiting to see police for three days and had been back on the phone twice to complain about the lack of attendance.

So I pootled along with my fluorescent yellow jacket ready on the passenger seat, just in case any emergency reassurance was required.

I rang the bell, entered and gave it my all: "So, what seems to be the trouble?"

The couple stared at me with suspicion and eventually informed me about the graffiti. They even showed me through to the garden and I nodded sagely as I viewed the chalk slurs. It was all going swimmingly.

It was at the point when I stated, "I'm going to create a crime report" that it went horribly wrong.

"But we have a crime reference already," the gentleman told me, producing a carbonated crime report form.

I nodded ever more sagely and for several moments longer as I perused this. The date on the report was the same day. "Um, have officers already been then?" I asked at last.

"Well yes, they left about ten minutes before you arrived."

By now my nodding was so sage I felt at least ninety years old. "Um, right, yes..." My mind was working feverishly for a way out of the embarrassing situation. (This was back in the days before I was ever-willing to blame Blandshire Constabulary.) Finally I settled on, "I'm a specialist racist incident officer, just checking you are happy with the service you've received." I know, I know, I'm good.

The couple softened up and let me out with a smile, assuring me they were not happy, but they didn't blame me.

As you can see, we should really be offering praise to Sir Ian Blair for knowing about the shooting at all.


A moment, please, to remember the victim of this tragically British fiasco:

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