Shit is always messed up during the snow. In the heat of summer I walked into the nick for last time for a long while. As I chatted on the phone, I felt pain in my ear, then my longish hair being ruffled in a rough manner. As I tried to concentrate on the call the tomfoolery increased to point where I had to finish the call prematurely. Pete was standing behind me winding me up, he also had a moan as I failed to wave at him earlier in the day when he passed me in the transit. I was absent minded as usual.
I couldnâ€™t help but remember a job we when to together, it was in January and it had faded into my distant memory. Seeing him suddenly reminded me.
Pete is old school, heâ€™s ex-army and has stories that could bore your arse off. Upon meeting him you feel as though he is one of the lads and you are not. Being of a dandy disposition I doubt he would ever warm to me though he did. Heâ€™s a family man and decent copper, if not somewhat lazy (not that Iâ€™d ever tell him!). The first time we were crewed together I was a young Special and I thought of him as old and cynical. He was not fond of Specials (who is?) and he said heâ€™d rather be single crewed. My persistence wore him down, we chatted about the army, history, anything you see on Dave and our experiences of life. He found it unusual that someone as young as I could relate to his soldier 95 war stories and boiled sweet tales.
The banter with Pete is the kind that would suggest we hate each other, he even convinced me I had committed a driving offence when I hadnâ€™tâ€¦ I still havenâ€™t lived that one down. I donâ€™t fall for the long weights anymore though he loves purposely getting me lost.
Pete took his time to drive across Clubland, the snow was nearly a foot deep and frozen beneath. He had his tongue poised between his front teeth while he navigated round the final turn close to our destination. It was very dark, I could see the stars above which was unusual but my day dreaming was interrupted by the curb. We had arrived.
â€œFuckâ€¦. Well itâ€™s not my carâ€ a toothy grin ensued.
A classic domestic, son one is pissed, so too is son two and most likely mother is as well. The mother wants son one out, son is walking about bare foot and mother is screaming because son one has put a carving knife through the kitchen door. It looked like a low budget horror film, the knife poking through the door along with a lot of holes, the spilt dinner and the poor decorating all added to the shit noir feel in there. As we throw son one out, son two turns up bare foot in the snow. As we argue he walls over, due to his size the snow angle was rather large and I left him where he lay for minute.
Son one is now squaring up to me, chest up face in mine spitting wife beater on my cheeks. It was like something from a carry on film, we slipped and slide along the pavement covered in ice and I struggle to keep my balance. I had both my hands on the lapels of his rather fetching hoodie which was colour coordinated with his button up jogging bottoms. Both our legs were stretched out wide and a tug of war began as I tried to dump him onto the ground. The toing and throwing went on for a few seconds to Peteâ€™s amusement, then he intervened to slide son oneâ€™s legs out. He landed on his arse then rolled over so we couldnâ€™t get his hands. He had heard the click of the cuffs, itâ€™s an old trick most resistant suspects use, they lay on their front and hold their hands together.
â€œBring your arm out NOW!â€ I shout in his ear.
â€œFuck you pigâ€
Pete has managed to pry his right arm out from under him and lock it off. I however was falling on my arse due to the snow. My stabvest creates a barrel around my chest, trying to wrestle with skinny 18 year olds on snow is a challenge. I rack my baton and prize his elbow open by levering it against his chest. It hurts to have a piece of metal force your limbs out from under you. Both arms are in cuffs now and the dance to the car followed. It felt like walking on butter, there was now purchase and the prisoner kept kicking out and forcing me to the ground with him.
We decided to take him to his dadâ€™s house, custody was full and it was only BOP. Throughout the journey his face stayed an inch from mine, he must have been on coke as he was off his head. For about ten minutes he strained his neck to get his face in mine, I couldnâ€™t be bothered to hold him back, if he did anything stupid I was ready to fill his face in with captor spray. While there the suusal profanities of youâ€™re filth, youâ€™re a pig blah blahâ€¦ yâ€™know, all the nice stuff. As we arrived at the dadâ€™s place, I shout â€œBOOOOOOOâ€ in his face and his head backed off so quickly he hit the window. I think he shit himself.