READING

the papers over the past few days, my life has flashed before me. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been running the annual Mind How You Go Awards, dedicated to acknowledging extreme examples of police stupidity and incompetence.

I’ve uncovered a chapter of a book called You Couldn’t Make It Up, that I wrote as long ago as 1995.

The chapter’s called Mr Plod Has Lost The Plot. Nothing’s new in the world.

These days, it’s difficult keeping up. Painted nails to raise ‘awareness of slavery’, 18 hi-viz fools riding the dodgems in Hull, a couple of soppy coppers wearing animal masks, senior officers sporting red high heels to sympathise with the gormless, self-absorbed ‘#MeToo’ movement. To be honest, I wouldn’t know whether to file any of this lunacy under Mind How You Go or You Couldn’t Make It Up. As Jack Regan said in the last episode of The Sweeney: ‘I am utterly and abjectly pissed-off with this little lot. I’ve given the best years of my life to the job . . .’ Mind how you go.