Our down-toearth polis are the best

SAY what you like about the Scottish police, but you couldn’t accuse them of being posers.

Certainly not in those sad banana-hued tank-tops they wear.

But it’s not just their lack of fashion chic. In their approach to life and the public I have found them down-to-earth, if not earthy.

One hot summer night after a sweaty day’s graft, we went for a pint. Inside, the pub was swamplike so we took our beers outside.

This wasn’t entirely legal so when we saw a copper coming we wondered – should we jook back inside? Ach, he’d seen us already. We’d gallus it out.

We sipped on, watching. He wasn’t an imposing figure – well short of the once-statutory six feet. And he was labouring under the weight of equipment strapped on to him. But he was grinning.

He drew level and without breaking his stride or looking at us he said, “Ye shouldnae dae it, but what the heck . . .” And we laughed and so did he. And he’s who I think of when I think of our police.

On the other hand, I was in New York, milling around with the tourists outside the Rockefeller Centre. A young cop lounged against a wall, arms folded across

The local rozzers arrived in kneelength shiny boots

his tight-shirted chest. He wore shades and chewed gum. His peaked hat was pulled down to meet his specs. His gun hung cool on his upper thigh. Young girls clamoured for photos. He accommodated them.

He clearly thought he was Al Pacino. I knew he was a diddy and I wouldn’t have asked him the time of day. And that’s how I think of the NYPD.

In Florence I came across a neatly-pressed, highly-polished mannequin cop standing next to his car with one foot up on a front wheel in a position that couldn’t have been good for his marriage prospects, one hand on his knee, the other on his hip.

It was as if Mussolini had joined the AA. And that’s my image of the Italian police.

In Portugal, we had some stuff nicked from our hotel and the local rozzers arrived in knee-length shiny boots, tassles swinging everywhere, and chatted up the reception girls, smirking occasionally in our direction. We’ve never been back.

But is it the case that simple unpretentiousness means our police are best? You know what? I think it does.