Fly-on-the-Wall Police TV Show

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An inebriated young lad wanted to walk away from Police who were questioning him. He was not under arrest.

"He tried to walk away and at that point we laid hands on him and he tried to break free, so we had to arrest him."

Sometimes I just think the Police are too heavy-handed.

Imagine what would happen if you tried to lay your hands on a policeman...
 
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There was an ex copper on tv the other night.

His son was attacked in Manchester City centre and the police said they had investigated but found no evidence.

The guy went himself and got CCTV footage from a bar and it led to a conviction. He got in trouble for doing it. Crazy.
 
Thats the law for you, don't do as I do, do as I say; and you can expect hell for showing me up.
 
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Thats the law for you, don't do as I do, do as I say; and you can expect hell for showing me up.
Would you prefer to see the coppers chuckle and point as the lad staggers and falls into the road and get crushed to death by a lorry?

I guess you would, then you could have a more prolonged snipe at rozzers.(y)
 
You can't pick and choose and who is accountable? You seem to think vigilantism would be selective.

I 100% support the efforts of "the hunted one" link above. The more evil,sick,vile scum they find the better. Hope that is ok with you.
 
Would you prefer to see the coppers chuckle and point as the lad staggers and falls into the road and get crushed to death by a lorry?
In the old days a drunk unable to look after himself ( or herself ) would get arrested on some very trivial offence and held in protective custody long enough to sober up. No formal record of the event would be made. This was far less work than dealing with any incident that the drunk might get into if left out on the street

I'd prefer common sense to be used by coppers.
Sometimes the modern rule book prevents common sense being used.
 
In my wild drinking days (in this case, 1985), I left a club because I felt sick. The bouncers insisted I could not stay outside the club. Unfortunately, I did not have fantastic control of my stomach contents and threw up on the pavement outside a car showroom next door. I got roughed around by a bouncer then my head was smashed against the sandstone door surround, requiring a trip to A & E and six stitches.

Directly opposite the club was a patch of rough land on which was parked a white Mariah, facing me, with two of James Anderton's finest in it.

They just watched and did not intervene.
 
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