The British police are always being taught about diversity.
Most of these sessions are obviously ridiculous: a ban on the phrase ‘manning the phones’, apologising for slavery which was abolished before our police force was even established and insisting that police officers take off their boots before entering a gypsy caravan for a drugs warrant. Any opportunity to make serious points about, say, disability issues, is lost in the hilarity during lessons about how we shouldn’t say ‘As sure as eggs is eggs’ in case it offends infertile women, and how we should never say ‘Father Christmas’. ‘Father Christmas’ is a double whammy. We are taught that the name excludes women and non Christians at the same time.
But what about the doughnuts? Here, in all it’s splendid glory is the best doughnut stall in the world. When we are on mutual aid in London, or whenever we visit for any reason, a trip to this paradise is essential.
The only diversity I am concerned with when I see this stall is the diversity of flavours and shapes. As a cop in this post-smoking modern society, I need doughnuts and coffee. If you need doughnuts, this is the place for you.
Forget Tom Winsor and his police fitness test, this is the place for us. It is incredible how bad my map reading is and how many Satnav failures we have when we arrive in Metrocity to rescue our colleagues there; we always seem to end up at this stall on the way to wherever we are going. Some of these doughnuts are half the size of a child’s head. Strangely enough, there always seems to be a ‘lost’ Met carrier nearby as well.