Under cover Volume 2
There’s a well known property not far from where I live. It is well known as a haven for the local small time drug dealers and regularly gets raided. It’s one of those half way houses for the homeless which seems to attract all manner of people for whom the law is a minor inconvenience. Their only concern is their own self gratification, and God help the average law abiding citizen who gets under their feet.
This being the case; the local CID generally keep a fairly close eye on the place and the denizens of said property are regularly relieved of small amounts of class A drugs. However, because it falls under the remit of Social Services, the place cannot be closed down and the multitudinous nuisances (Including the Class A substance abuse and its fallout) it brings to local residents are never abated for long. All the undercover coppers have to do is park up and watch for an hour or so.
Unfortunately, CID tend to pick a section of road where the parking bays end and sit on the double yellows. Knowing this particular area as I do, I’d advise them to park fifty yards back so they can watch where the local drug lords employees park their cars for an easy getaway down the back streets. Up until the penny finally dropped, I’d occasionally find a car parked on the double yellows with a driver and passenger present. Now a car on the aforesaid markings has the same effect on me that a smear of jam on your arm has to a wasp. I observe, hover and then maybe sting if the source of the attraction is not quickly removed. So it was with a dark coloured Ford. I took a wander over the road and saw the driver mouthing something at me. Not having been notified by CCTV of any exemptions, I sidled up to the car and the Driver, a round faced bloke in his thirties said. “Police. On surveillance.”
“Okay mate, flash us your warrant card.” I replied, which he did and I moved on almost without breaking step.
Wish they’d let us know so we didn’t bother them.
This being the case; the local CID generally keep a fairly close eye on the place and the denizens of said property are regularly relieved of small amounts of class A drugs. However, because it falls under the remit of Social Services, the place cannot be closed down and the multitudinous nuisances (Including the Class A substance abuse and its fallout) it brings to local residents are never abated for long. All the undercover coppers have to do is park up and watch for an hour or so.
Unfortunately, CID tend to pick a section of road where the parking bays end and sit on the double yellows. Knowing this particular area as I do, I’d advise them to park fifty yards back so they can watch where the local drug lords employees park their cars for an easy getaway down the back streets. Up until the penny finally dropped, I’d occasionally find a car parked on the double yellows with a driver and passenger present. Now a car on the aforesaid markings has the same effect on me that a smear of jam on your arm has to a wasp. I observe, hover and then maybe sting if the source of the attraction is not quickly removed. So it was with a dark coloured Ford. I took a wander over the road and saw the driver mouthing something at me. Not having been notified by CCTV of any exemptions, I sidled up to the car and the Driver, a round faced bloke in his thirties said. “Police. On surveillance.”
“Okay mate, flash us your warrant card.” I replied, which he did and I moved on almost without breaking step.
Wish they’d let us know so we didn’t bother them.
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