Other than nabbing a suspect, there’s nothing more
satisfying to a young constable than putting one over on his sergeant. For me, one particular night comes to mind.
I was walking the beat in the Borough of Tower Hamlets in
London’s east end. It was a fairly
typical London night - foggy with drizzling rain.
While my helmet kept my head dry and I was clad in the
traditional black police cape (no sissy raincoats for us) I still felt damp and
rather bored as not much was happening. It appeared the criminals had more sense
than to venture out on such a miserable night.
I trudged along until I reached the corner of Spitalfields
Market and Commercial Street where the imposing Christ Church stood in all its
glory.
This church was built for the seriously religious as you had
to climb 149 steps just to get to the entranceway. I decided it was worth the
effort to get out of the rain and take a little break in one of the hidden
alcoves behind the large pillars. I could still see what was going on below
and, importantly, keep an eye out for my sergeant.
Christ Church had a reputation for being haunted, which
isn’t surprising considering over 1,000 victims of The Great Plague are buried
in the graveyard in the rear of the church.
Of course I didn’t believe in such nonsense and readily hunkered down in
my handy shelter from the elements.
Given that it was a particularly gloomy night, I was
surprised to see a civilian climbing the steps of the church, looking over his
shoulder the whole way.
Now, he could have just decided it was an opportune time to
worship or perhaps be seeking shelter himself, but there was always the chance
he had a more nefarious intent in mind.
Which brings me to the lost art of male public
urination. Perhaps it was a British
phenomenon, but there seemed to be the mindset that rather than pushing through
patrons to the loo at a pub, it was easier to go outside and relieve oneself on
the pub wall. Or, if you were stricken with the urge on the way home, take
advantage of an alley gate, someone’s garden or the back of a public building.
As sacrilegious as it may be, the corners of a church might
even be at risk, which I thought might be the case in this instance.
I thought of my friend, Pat, who had been visiting New York
and was onboard a train awaiting departure.
Instead of traveling through the compartments to the restroom, he
decided to hop off and empty his bladder against the side of a fence.
To his chagrin, Pat was approached by a police officer while
performing this function. The officer
took out his notebook and demanded the offender’s name. Ever quick-witted, Pat responded “Walter
Faucet” and as the policeman pondered the seemingly appropriate name, Pat
jumped back on the train and was on his way.
These thoughts were interrupted when I saw my sergeant
approach the church and also start trekking up the steps. Not wanting to be
caught in a state of idleness, I decided to present myself to the civilian and
inquire what he was up to.
In hindsight, I must have cut quite a harrowing figure in my
black cape as I suddenly stepped out of the shadowed alcove into the fog like a
shrouded apparition of death.
The civilian let out a shriek and sprinted down the steps at
a lightening pace. I thought to suggest he should consider training for the
upcoming 1948 London Olympics.
About halfway down, he encountered my sergeant who was on
his way up. The sergeant must have been taken aback by the look of terror on
the civilian’s face.
The sergeant lifted his eyes to the top of the stairs and
peered through the misty haze at the shadowy figure in the shimmering cape,
then gave a shriek of his own, and beat the civilian down the remaining steps
before disappearing up the street.
I met up with the sergeant a little later that night. He had now caught his breath and I’m pretty
sure he’d put two and two together, but didn’t know if it was process of
elimination or that my sly smile gave me away.
Not a word was exchanged as he squinted at me, then
acknowledged my presence with a dignified nod.
I returned the nod and we went our separate ways, but I can tell you I
didn’t wipe that smile off my face for the rest of my shift.
