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Data for PCSO's will follow as soon as it is available to me. How many police officers have been disciplined in the past 12 months and in each case for what offence? In the past year 1 July to 30 June , 30 Officers have received a formal disciplinary outcome for the following offences. How many police officers have been suspended in the past 12 months and in each case for what offence? When suspended what has been their pay in each case? Suspended on Full Pay. How many police officers have been dismissed in the past 12 months and in each case for what offence?
One officer was dismissed in this period for the breach of Discreditable Conduct however this was overturned on appeal to the Home Office to a final written warning and the officer was re-instated. It's being heralded as ' The biggest police scandal in decades'. It is said that the Officers were on drugs raids when these offences occurred. This kind of behaviour by police was claimed to be ' no more' and will never happen again. This same station were involved in a little known incident involving Police Constable Jackson and Police Constable Dale , and Police Inspector Dewale who actively stonewalled inquiries into why these two officers were trying to fit up a motorist on the North Circular.
The two officers maintained their authority until they found out that they had been 'taped ' by the motorist, at which point they hurried away. Inspector Dewale would not cooperate and was reported under the complaints procedure at Finchley Police Station.
Nothing more was heard of this, it was suppressed. The force once big on the 'values in Society kick ' heavily promoted by Ray Mallon on TV to boost confidence in the police leading with the slogan -- Zero Tolerance on crime, has miserably backfired on the officer who thought spinning a line was enough to make the police look good.
A later report revealed that some 58 police officers were under investigation by the anti-corruption unit. The outside Force - Warwickshire Police said they had arrested the three under suspicion of 'Misconduct in Public Office, Fraud, and the abuse of position and corrupt practice'. Ray Mallon later quit the police -- 'resigned' before any charges were brought to court and appears to have done okay with TV appearances, and yes -- stands for truth and supports accountability??
At the station other crimes were being committed by cops who would never stand trial for their behaviour as they were on safe ground within their own immune environment. The eight defendants were taken by van to the station during which the six police officers were making racial remarks and kicking and prodding the handcuffed men with truncheons.
Inside the station there were several aleged examples of police incompetence, racism and negligence. Five Police officers gave testimony, but none of it was believed. Instead, the bench found Mrs Baker's version of events to be more plausible and truthful, mainly because the officers evidence looked rehearsed and didn't differ in the slightest despite the officers not being together all the time.
She told the court that she heard a noise and went to see what the yelling was about, as it was being done just outside her flat. She was arrested almost immediately on her opening the door and seeing her son laid on the ground and being beaten by one of the police officers.
She was grabbed and had her arm twisted up behind her back. They were then taken to Chigwell Police Station, where she was racially abused, prodded with a truncheon, and one cop grinned saying ' I didn't know a nigger woman had breasts' and much more. Mrs Baker and her son were charged with assault, threatening behaviour and obstructing the police?
It was said later that in an out of court settlement the police compensated Mrs Baker and her son. No police officer was ever charged with an offence and no apology was given. The trial of the cops is the outcome following an appeal by the man jailed for the raid, Patrick McLaughlin who went to jail Claiming innocence throughout, Mc Laughlin was immediately freed on bail until the end of the 'Conspiracy Trial' This also included detailed information on 'telephone tapping' and bugging.
Because this may have compromised investigations at the agency and other regional police forces, the investigation was led by Northumbria's Chief Constable John Stevens who had previously looked into allegations of collusion between terrorist groups and members of the Security forces in Northern Ireland.
The NCIS said that the matter was 'confidential' and not for the attention of the public? The marchers committee said the arrests made by four SPG officers in plain clothes were unprovoked and carried out in a very violent way by the police. The marchers were detained in cells for up to 15 hours, and despite being unemployed, were refused legal aid and representation. After hearing evidence given by the officers, the magistrates told the police that mere chanting did not add up to threatening behaviour or a breach of the peace, and that the police themselves were likely to be led into creating the fracas because they were wanting something to happen.
He went on to say the officers had been guilty of monstrous, wicked and shameful conduct in the raid on the White's home in Stoke Newington. He also added that the police had instigated a five-year cover-up of that night when 17 officers entered the premises. The judge said several of the police officers were 'liars' and very well trained in it. No stolen goods were ever found and the warrant was not produced to the family at all.
He also said it was brazen and appalling that the police had a cheek to charge the family with offences, which were thankfully thrown out in an earlier court. The police brought a charge of obstructing the police against a freelance photographer, who they claimed jumped on a police officer's back with intent to obstruct him from his duty. The jury at Westminster County Court found the claim ridiculous and an abuse of process because their was insufficient evidence to support the charge.
The Police Sergeant arrested him for being drunk and disorderly. The court accepted the boy didn't drink alcohol after hearing medical evidence of an allergy that alcohol would make the boy very sick and in need of treatment. The Thames Magistrates dismissed the case and awarded costs against the police. It later emerged that the photographer David Hoffman photographed 10 to 20 officers emerge from the back of the police station carrying a variety of things that could be described as staves.
Yet only three were identified by the police themselves? There still remained the question -- which officer authorised them to go out carrying these weapons that were deliberately chosen to conceal professional identification? Karen Brazil was indeed a little intoxicated when police arrived at the public house following a disturbance report lodged by the landlord.
The cops sought to eject Karen, who refused, and she was arrested. At the police station she did comply with officers and emptied her bag and pockets of all contents. She was not aware that being arrested for a breach of the peace allowed a strip-search and lashed out at the officer who suddenly began to strip her.
She was told the search was going to happen, and they introduced the 'defence' of it being necessary to search her for drugs, although the call out had nothing to do with drug-busting or narcotics involvement. She lashed out again, and after it was done finding nothing she was charged with assault.
The magistrates being police friendly in this case, convicted her He also went onto say to the police that she might have a case for sexual assault against the police if she wished to pursue that course.
Even the BMA object to the random use of intimate body searches by the police. Lord Justice Robert Goff overturned the conviction and suggested she pursue things by contacting a lawyer for further advice.
Kelly, was subject to a strip-search after officers arrested him. He said they refused to say why he had been arrested and he was kept in a cell for several hours before being released without charge. Mr Kelly revealed to reporters that the same police had arrested him four times previously and that he had been acquitted of charges brought by those police.
But on this occasion he said, they decided to humiliate him and conduct a very intimate and embarrassing inspection of his body, and there was nothing I could do about it having about five cops around you ready to force you to bend over, he said. Kelly lodged a formal complaint and contacted a solicitor to begin a case against the Met Police.
Judge Justice Park in his summing up said he strongly disapproved of the 'outrageous manner' in which the police conducted their duties in order to search for imaginary items when they concocted their story to represent the truth! Mrs George was beaten and had to receive medical attention besides suffering the trauma of her door being kicked down by a Detective Sergeant who said he was in charge of the raid.
Seven officers broke in on the pretext of arresting her son for a crime they would not tell her. The Judge said it was plain to see that they immediately opted to invent a false story when they realised she might sue the police.
During the search they pinned her to a radiator while pulling out drawers, opening cupboards and throwing her property strewn over the floor. When she moved she was kicked and suffered blows to the stomach, chest and arms.
The hospital recorded bruising and a black eye when she was admitted. He said the police deliberately lied to him about the incident and awarded exemplary damages. On his arrest he was bundled into a van by officers, and a 'denied' assault took place by the officers. He was so badly injured that he was hospitalised with severe injuries sustained and inflicted by 'ghosts' -- officers said he hurt himself in the van? The hospital concluded he had been viciously kicked in the groin area and did not accept that a fall in a van would explain it.
Staff intervened when Mr Service's Catheter was dislodged during the struggle. Amazingly, at Camberwell Magistrates, the charge of dishonestly handling a stolen cheque was withdrawn on a lack of evidence, and they added a new one of ' assaulting a policeman and doing criminal damage to a police van'.
The brutal attack happened to Mr. Carlisle at a restaurant, Renton was off-duty and not alone; other officers were at his table. Renton did not like Carlisle who objected to his course and objectionable behaviour in the restaurant. Renton decided to deal with him and in the fracas Mr Carlisle suffered a horrible injury that dislodged his eye in the station charge room after he arrested the man on trumped up charges.
Due to the fact the restaurant staff seeing the flare up, a Police Sergeant came forward and told the court that Renton had asked him to to cover-up the incident. The Judge sentenced the cop to two years in jail, with six months suspended. He also suggested that one might be forgiven for thinking that some of the actions by police officers and Renton was to some extent, pre-planned?
It is indeed a kind of mockery when one considers that Jack Straw, home secretary in said that the police should not investigate themselves. He claimed that complaints against police should be done by an independent body. Yet, in the same year he claimed that the police were 'cooking the books'. Crime figures were being manipulated and down-played he said in order to confuse the public and make it seem like crime was being reduced effectively.
Using a dirty cloth to remove the stains only leads to a murky patch that waits to be whitewashed over or ignored as something permanent and part of the design. The Infamous porn squad was disbanded due to the discovery of top senior officers in the unit having links to Soho sleaze bosses who bribed them.
A score of other officers were investigated but never charged despite rumours of around officers taking payments from crime bosses being publicly talked about and boasted about by cops in Scotland Yard. It would be fine if this was true, but it isn't. And what you read next certainly questions that, and it is but a snapshot of the real problem. King was fined for speeding mph. David Coker, he said that Officer Hepburn had done the assault.
Hepburn remained with the police despite the controversy surrounding the assault. TWO un-named officers faced a 'failed disciplinary' hearing over the shooting of Mr. They denied oppressive conduct and misconduct. Sylvester as a result of a police chase. The cop from Helstone, Camelford, terrified the cashier as he pointed a imitation semi-automatic pistol at the female cashier in the robbery demanding cash.
It was said in court that this all resulted from him being very depressed after leaving the police force? She was given 18 months probation and 70 hours community service. It said an internal inquiry was launched after two police officers came to blows during the get together. A policeman was asked to leave, but then a fight broke out among the party goers. Brian Parsons spent 11 years in prison for the crime, which he did not commit after police on the case constructed a false case.
It was suggested that evidence was planted by an over-zealous and dishonest police officer. Whilst with the Devon force he raped a woman, and is now due to face trial in Exeter: It now transpires she is suing the Devon and Cornwall Police because they did not offer her enough help to return to work. The Police Force declined to comment as they say it is an ongoing legal matter that will be settled in the High Court.
Computer equipment was seized at his home after customs officers intercepted a package ordered by the Crime Squad Cop. He was suspended pending further investigations. Baker received a suspended sentence of three months jail after he admitted to charges of deception. He was apparently arrested for failing to appear in a London Court. An arrest warrant was issued and cops incarcerated the man overnight.
He complained of being unwell and was examined and returned to the cell -- he was found dead the following day? It is already a fact that cops at the station suspect a colleague, but anger has provoked them into recording the event as a crime This time when using this 'electronic gun' Andrew Pimlott was engulfed in fire and burned to death. This police force used the taser 34 times in compared with 65 times in Solicitor Sophie Khan who often represents claimants against the police has called for an inquiry Devon and Cornwall Police refused to comment!
Sergeant Gary Watts has been suspended amid accusations that he committed gross misconduct in public office. Mention of his Twitter Posts once available to anyone can now only be viewed by request The mentally ill man who acted as a Church caretaker was arrested following a disturbance in Paris street, Exeter. He was arrested at 11 am and taken to Heavitree Police Station.
At just over an hour later he was rushed to the Devon and Exeter Hospital suffering from head injuries. The man Thomas Orchard was found slumped in the cell and died five days later in hospital.
It was reported that 7 officers restrained him. All four cops from Exeter are not being named as per usual and a file has been prepared for the CPS PS Its not the first cell death in police custody in the Devon and Cornwall area She was accused of intention to pervert the course of justice at Meldon on Dartmoor.
She was suspended from duty. The case was sent to the Crown Court. The offence was said to have occurred whilst she was on duty as a police officer. Scotland Yard once again pledged to rid the force of corruption as they have done so many times before? Commander Hayman vowed that their pals would be scrutinized and backgrounds of the jailed cops.
Police Commissioner Paul Condon with his elite anti-corruption squad rooted out twenty detectives after discovering malpractice in the Met. The activities of these officers included fraud, drug allegations, misbehaviour and impropriety. The case was not even contested so an order was made against the Police Commissioner, but he ignored the court and the money was not paid. Michael returned to court again and took out a garnishee order demanding the police chief turn up at court.
The Judge assured Mr. Alt that if the chief ignored the court again, the court would without fail, deduct the increasing amount from the Commissioner's bank account. It is reported that these three ran a police brutality squad in the city and up to being arrested were completely unchallenged.
The called themselves ' the wolfpack ' and all three appeared before Chesterfield Magistrates Court. Court 6 was busy with four un-named cops on trial. Warnes was accused of a plot to plant drugs on a mother so that the husband could get custody of their sons. Wigley was accused of helping Wilson to cover up the crime by falsifying his notes.
They are said to have stopped a motorist late at night and said he was in the bus lane. An arrest followed in which Constable Sams assaulted the man occasioning actual bodily harm. This latter charge was added to the other charges the constable faced. Had it not been for an independent witness the incident would have not turned out so lucky for the man arrested. The three police officers claimed the man had provoked them. He damaged Lee Scott's teeth with his baton and punched him in the face three times.
In this next session we look at the drinking sessions when cops behave badly and go onto committing crimes. The Met Police launched an investigation and the four officers were bailed to appear in court. Alcohol was banned in the bar for six months. The Nightclub staff alerted the police after seeing them on security cameras.
It started after a National Crime Squad Detective abused a girl in the cloakroom and began fighting with security at the hotel. The other officers, all much the worse for heavy drinking piled in and a huge fight followed. One senior officer of twenty years experience told the Essex tactical support unit to get lost when they were called to intervene.
Two Firearms cops had their gun licences revoked because of ' aggressive behaviour shown in the fracas. He was bailed to appear before St. Dozens of Met Officers were at the party. They assaulted Francis Milburn after they made comments about him and then followed him home. The three officers lied and found themselves at the Old Bailey on charges of ' attempting to pervert the course of justice '. There is much more on this kind of thing so we will come back to it later. Another report showing that coppers were using their warrant cards to get favours, free drinks.
Rudeness by cops and arrogance topped complaints by the public. The report urged that the police tackle the grave issue spiralling out of control, to be addressed. Another promise to eradicate bad behaviour was issued yet again. He suggested to colleagues his rank held favour in high places and what he did was 'locker-room behaviour accepted by all at the station'.
The sexual assaults and bad language was no more than a game he said. He admitted to having sex with a vulnerable woman who he was supposed to check on after she took an overdose. He crept into her flat and got into her bed while she was still under the influence and decided to have sex with her. The Judge said he would be put on the sex offenders register. A separate investigation was also ordered into his mileage expenses claims -- the IPCC said they were looking into financial irregularities.
The woman was awarded an out-of-court settlement and the police officer was sacked. Threats by officer in love vendetta lead to court case '. She unlawfully used the police computer to obtain her rival's home address and said she would fit her up with a drugs charge and plant the evidence. Begley who worked with the Birmingham police was suspended and appeared before a court in Coventry. The West Midlands Police said they would review the position after the trial. The youth had been picked up on a motoring offence and thrown into a cell.
Shortly after three police officers entered the cell and one began questioning the young man. Things got very confrontational and because the youth did not cooperate, one of the officers slapped the boy across the face. The suspect said he wanted to report this immediately, and the officer pushed his face up against the boy and said ' no one saw me do it, and no one will say I did.
Sadly, this kind of thing still goes on despite CTTV as the cops have learnt to work around it and make sure a blow cannot be seen easily enough for a court to determine. The married police chief was said to have embarked on an affair with a business woman and that this exposure led to his decision to take his own life.
The two constables were found guilty of misconduct in public office and will be sentenced after the next trial. The two will face trial for the raping of a drunken woman. The two Surrey Cops from Hampshire were charged with rape, indecent assault and wilful misconduct.
It was said by the prosecution that the patrol officers rushed back to Guildford Police Station in order to fix their stories and get them in first before the woman made her complaint. One of them admitted to having sex whilst one denied it, only to admit it later. He received 16 months for strip searches and abuse concerning boys at the Lyndhurst station.
Detectives from The Hampshire Force's Professional Standards Unit acted upon a complaint from the boy about his treatment. They arrested Inspector Hutchings and accepted the incident wasn't sexually motivated. It was said that Hutchings worked throughout the Hampshire area going to Havant in The above two reports obviously relate to the same cop, Gerry or Gerald, and in doing so throws up either a cover-up or case of misdirection.
The second report says that detectives accepted there was no sexual motivation in how he treated the boy, but in the first report we can clearly see that he was nailed for sexual offences against 11 prisoners and strip searches on boys? The next glaring question is what came first, the dismissal or the jailing?
I think not, not by any stretch of the imagination, What we have here is a scandal unexplained. Obviously the Hampshire Police hoped that these two cases and reports might never be connected. The offences began in and went until Some of the attacks would take place in the back of his car. He was finally caught and charged with 20 sexual offences including rape, indecent assault and indecency with a child. He was jailed for 10 years. It was described as a revenge mission after Pc.
Scannel became annoyed in a personal incident involving her brother. Sergeant Haque was already awaiting trial over a previous incident involving misconduct prior to this incident. The Sergeant strangled his wife in a furious attack leading to bodily harm.
The Hayling Island based cop with 29 years in the force was dismissed after doing two months of the jail sentence. He was on patrol and radioed in to say that he was watching raid suspects , a group of masked men near a shop. On examination of the bomb hoax it was found samples taken from his car matched the making of the bomb. No raiders were ever found. It was just a lie that if not so serious, would have been seen differently said the judge.
He told the court that he was seized by cops who accused him of kerb-crawling. He had been collecting for a charity when police grabbed him and took him to Southampton Central Police Station. Mr Fricker 64, is deaf and medically unable to have sex it was said, at the police station he asked for an interpreter, but it was ignored and not provided. When Mr Fricker of Botley, near Southampton tried to take the sergeant's number, the policeman deliberately covered it up.
The charge for kerb-crawling was dropped. In a press statement at the time, they said their inquiry was into the disappearance of expensive goods.
The Inspector based at Portswood, Southampton, was not named -- all they would say is that a serving police inspector had been suspended in relation to a criminal inquiry. He made 57 phone calls from the police station it was stated. He was ordered to attend a sex offenders program. The officer of eight years service was allowed to resign? Sean Hodgson went to prison for 27 years based on a false confession probably coerced as around this time, many detectives employed these tactics.
He was jailed for murder on the Hampshire police evidence which was held together by the 'confession'. The West Midlands Crime Squad were practicing this at roughly the same time along with other units around and into the 80's. The real murderer David Lace admitted the crime, but this was dismissed, but now DNA has revealed it was him. The Hampshire police say this is most regrettable and they wish to put things right. This matter borders on a Major Corruption Probe, a probe that never happened due to 'in-house' police tactics by Chief Constable John Hoddinott in Good cops are hard to find, and easy to set up they say.
This charge actively led to his death -- he committed suicide. The young man actually dropped the charges, but this did not help this officer. A fellow officer who was on the Isle of Wight with Graham Cruttenden spoke out about the file prepared against the Pc.
He said it was one of the worst proposed cases he'd ever seen and police procedures had not been followed. The PCA rejected the Hampshire Police Force's findings twice and ordered that a new inquiry be set up by an outside force. It was felt by his wife who lodged a complaint against the force, that they were trying really hard to ruin the officer at the time of the allegation.
And why would fellow officers and top brass be willing to do this? Police Constable Cruttenden gave evidence against six Met officers in He refused to remain silent and disclosed that six officers helped themselves to several thousands of pounds worth of goods at a break-in at a branch of Austin Reed in Fenchurch Street, London.
The Squad had been called out on a call. The corrupt officers were convicted in , and were jailed. He was threatened by colleagues and received anonymous phone calls. However, due to the case being discussed in police stations throughout the Greater London area, it wasn't long before some members of the Hampshire force became aware of his betrayal -- the cops in London made sure of it. Others too said he would be healthier if he did not make waves over the Cruttenden matter and stay out of Hampshire?
The case concerned a resident on the Isle of Wight and an ' altered a letter' submitted to the court knowing it had been tampered with, and it contained an additional passage so the court would be made aware of what they thought about him.
They as usual, deny this claim saying 'some phantom policeman' must have done it without their consent. Their lawyer in court claimed at one time that the letter was not sent and it did not exist, yet he revealed that the offending part against the man had been ' cut and pasted' from an internal police report?
He also claimed for the police on examination of two letters, that there had been a 'typographical error' so one question remains - how did he know the unsent and non existent letter had been altered at an official level within the Hampshire Police Force? Unfortunately the judge accepted it being an error and that was that. On researching our files in similar named 'forged and altered items by police officers' we found that no officers were ever charged or convicted and in just two cases at a tribunal stage judges made the comment that the officers had 'acted unwisely' but it didn't reflect on their honesty or integrity??
The police knew the stated article was altered and what effect it would have but they still presented it through their lawyer who also had prior knowledge that this evidence was disputed by the plaintiff, and that a complete new paragraph had been pasted onto the letter in order to give a different impression, an impression that was intended to reduce the plaintiff's case. A cop for 16 years, Bayldon. The Judge warned him of a possible 12 months jail sentence which would be considered for pre-sentence options.
The officer had sex with a 15 year-old schoolgirl it was said at Lewes Crown Court. One charge of perverting the course of justice was not dealt with by the judge? Further to the court case, the police admitted they were looking into an internal matter involving the officer that he indulged in sexual activities in a police car while on duty.
He is to be placed on the sex offender's register. The suspended officer from Ryde on the Isle of Wight, faced allegations of making false representations and misconduct in public office. The judge said the prosecution of Mr. Thompson had been malicious and hit out at the CPS. The most serious assault on Mr. Thompson happened in the interview room at the police station instigated by officer Hewes.
The judge concluded that the Hampshire Police wrongfully imprisoned Mr. Thompson and violently began assaulting him because they did not like him. The court awarded Mr. Besides sex on offer was spanking sessions, the secret schoolmasters always liked that. These happened oh her off-duty days as it was best to have the spanking and caning sessions in the afternoon. She was based at Hythe Station in Southampton. Two days were wasted as a result and the judge came to the conclusion that it amounted to a serious misconduct.
The Detective claimed he sent an e-mail to the CPS in relation to certain evidence, but they denied receiving it. The accused was acquitted and costs sent to the Hampshire Police. Officers had conducted a full strip search disobeying the laid down rules in the case of a minor by not calling in her parents or having an adult present to oversee that her rights were not violated. The girl Kerrie Crouch was just sat in the grounds of a Petersfield Church when the ordeal began.
Despite having no evidence of any crime two constables insisted that she go back to the station for a search. He said this was a serious matter when lying to the court. But Hampshire has not laid perjury charges against this obviously corrupt cop.
Both officers made gestures in the workplace aimed at her and most of a rude sexual nature. It was said in the tribunal that the all male CID Division except for Evans actively or passively engaged in this behaviour, considering what they did as amusing.
Crowe and Brunt were moved from Hyde Police Station after their three and a half years torment on Evans and the Chief Constable sent an apology? Tango Security the clampers accused him of criminal damage to their property - the sign and four plastic ties valued at around 4p that he had cut.
He did say he would recompense them to this amount but nothing else. The Hampshire Police were called by the clampers and they imprisoned Mr Hibbert in a cell for four hours! The CPS apparently through the charge out, obviously not wanting to have egg on their faces The Police trying to salvage something and not have their heavy hand tactics amplified press-wise backtracked and said the matter was one now of a land ownership dispute between the clampers and him in a civil procedures court.
The police will automatically say they had to act on the word of law, but where was the commonsense and why must they throw someone into a cell without giving the matter more thought? Isle of Wight Policeman Jason Bolwell in the Guildford Crown Court was arrested and suspended and faced two charges of fraud and false representation.
It was said in court he began his plan whilst on duty in the Central Police Station in Portsmouth. He was eventually trapped by his handwriting supplied to the magazine owners. The Hampshire Police Officer was jailed for four months. Hampshire police confirmed that an inquiry would be carried out by officers from the Thames Valley Police?
The officer from Havant in Hampshire left three women victims very frightened as he called them from various telephone boxes in the area. He was banned from going near the three women involved and faces dismissal from the Hampshire Constabulary. Journeying back to his cottage with CPS lawyer Penelope Schofield he hit the kerb in his precarious state, had a puncture and called in at the Bitterne Police Station where he was based. It was there that he was breathalysed and arrested.
It was then that lawyer Schofield began a lie to get him off a charge by saying she was the driver. Eventually it fell apart and Schofield was charged with perverting the course of justice.
The cop who did the night patrol conducted a test on himself before colleagues as a gesture to see how fit he was to drive when it registered he was over the limit. They dropped charges later and said there was an error? His case was initially turned down, but he successfully won legal aid to continue. The incident was hushed up and only came to light when Mr.
Prescott applied for a job at a Children's home, and his application was blocked. It was said that he had a similar name to the known criminal?
It finally reveals that 22 Police Officers and 11 civilian staff faced an internal disciplinary hearing. A force spokesman was quick to say these breaches referred to info of a personal nature rather than criminal? The Male cop was suspended by chiefs at the Cosham Headquarters in Hampshire.
She specifically mentioned an incident in a police van when male colleagues handcuffed her and made her go face down on the floor of the police van. She said many of the others were involved in the abuse, but only one handcuffed her.
He spent a day in custody accused of sending texts to a woman, but he didn't even know the woman's name or do texts on his phone. He said police on the Isle arrived mob-handed, seized his phone and kept it for well over a week.
Hampshire cops arrived with three cars it is said to arrest Mrs Cole when she refused to hand back a ball kicked onto her land by kids -- and not for the first time either. She was finger-printed and had her DNA taken, and locked in a cell for five hours.
And what's more those buffoons at the CPS are to consider the case as theft? Cole only wanted to teach these teenagers a lesson, a lesson of respect for other people, but she cannot do that, and no-one else can when it comes to kids rights, they have been given the right to do anything and have everything, because if you deny them this you are abusing them?
She never kicked their ball into her own garden, they did, and probably too many times to look the other way. It appears an eye-witness saw the off-duty cops climbing onto the vehicle. At the moment, the Hampshire cops are not disclosing why or what these two officers were up to or observing? Both officers are said to be under investigation and face professional misconduct charges, and that the Hampshire Constabulary Professional Standards Department is conducting the investigation.
He was found to be twice over the drink limit after a police woman smelled alcohol on him after he left the Park Gate Police Station. The cop from Southampton has since retired on health grounds.
It certainly looks like Hampshire cops are above the law, and this amply shows this to be the case. It shows one could not arrest a cop in a 'citizens arrest' without the tables being turned on them, even if the cop was bent or up to no good.
This kind of thing makes you wonder what they are really up to? Hampshire police arrested pub singer Simon Ledger for singing ' Kung Fu fighting' a 70's record hit for Carl Douglas in I would suppose the song was aired on the radio for thousands of plays,,,but no racist accusation, Carl Douglas was not charged, nor did he appear in court, and the record was not banned by the BBC.
One would think common sense might be adhered to,,,but no, the cops made the claim they have to respond to a complaint made by the public One should be aware that any complaint made about the police is not so diligently carried out, they often ignore and mess a complainant around before making any move to write out a statement It was his belief, of which he had no doubts according to his findings when he headed the inquiry into ' the Isle of Wight alleged child abuse and Paedophile ring and sacrifices' that he had no doubts what he was told by community social workers, were true.
This strange case was one that David Icke featured in one of his books and regularly featured it on his blog. The police headed by Kingman began investigating when it was claimed that a number of businessmen, prominent heads on the island were engaged in secret societies.
We have since been told that Kingman has now retired, and the other matter never resolved. A spokesperson would not comment on allegations that the cops had been convicted of Benefit Fraud, Discharging a firearm, Possession of Cannabis, Drunk and Disorderly, Assault and Theft.
Members of the public in Hampshire were not pleased to hear this, and top cop John O Connor formerly of Scotland Yard said ' It is totally inappropriate that these officers have been allowed to stay in their jobs '.
The Recent Murder of Jamie Dack by monstrous killers has not only led to criticism of the way Hampshire police responded to the Southampton victim, but the charge of misconduct on eight police officers: Two Inspectors, four police sergeants, two constables and one member of the civilian staff.
The outcome was that these accused all received ' management advice' Graeme Howlett, a holidaymaker from Essex. It was said by witnesses that the police mondeo car sped through red lights.
Howlett was very unhappy with the way police dealt with him after the accident, as the ambulance only took the officer, and his family had to wait for a second ambulance before being taken to hospital for treatment. He said his wife was cut and suffered bruising and the children were in shock besides his own injuries. Hampshire Police said they would be investigating? In certain profile cases mentioned it has been discovered that police have shredded evidence and strangely 'lost files' even amid an investigation carried out by the PCA and IPPC.
This happened on ' Operation Countryman ' the massive investigation into corrupt cops, and --' The West Midlands Crime Squad Investigation ' just to name two, there are several more on this site. It was confirmed that both officers were receiving 'management advice? Nawrot took his case to the Court Of Appeal against the Chief Constable of Hampshire after confusing evidence dealt him a blow in another court. At the previous lower court Mr.
Nawrot was found guilty of abusing and threatening a police constable. However, the Appeal Court Judges found that the police were seeking to avoid an award of exemplary damages for unlawful arrest and assault by the police constable because the appropriate sum or figure would be extremely difficult to be ascertained without the police constable being able to explain fully his actions.
Nawrot was given leave to sue the Hampshire police for compensation. The ratings by the Audit Commission said the record keeping by the Hampshire Force was poor in respect of the investigations into violent crime, criminal damage and domestic violence. Bosses also added that officers should meet monthly targets of five seat-belt offences, four mobile phone offences, eleven drink-drive offences and two commercial vehicle checks.
Hampshire Police said when asked about their anti-motorist purge - ' It is a minimum expectation of what we expect officers to be doing, we are not saying that at all costs someone must be arrested' said John Campbell.
In recognition of his resignation the CPS and Police decided not to proceed with the case? They were asked to produce match tickets in order to proceed along the public highway?
He now has little wonder there are wrongful arrests and unsafe convictions, the thuggish behaviour by cops goes a long way to confirming this. The officer is accused of dangerous driving and making the capture and pursuit of the offenders 'personal' It was stated on a news item that an onboard camera in the patrol car showed the officer taking risks that were not within the authority granted his trial continues. Evans was promptly arrested and held in a police cell at Alton in Hampshire.
Kelly said when he was eventually released the cops advised him not to press charges against his attacker?? What followed was a blunder that led to his name being supplied to the offender, and he was subsequently attacked by a gang of supporters to the offender.
Later after purchasing a field, the man found a 'man trap' set on his property, but the police failed to respond to his calls. CCTV video footage was requested formally to Roger Trencher, solicitor to the Force, but it was not forthcoming, and they dealt with the issue of the coat by paying compensation. Deakin retired amid the inquiries, which were ongoing in , and it remains a mystery as to who at the police station walked off with property not belonging to them, and why no-one was interested in identifying the person who must have been on the station CCTV If they do know, they aren't saying!!
The Crabbe Affair The Force was said to have agreed to investigate its own handling of the case. It was said in court that she had committed the offences during In October a Report in the 'Police Specials' mentions that two female officers were arrested in Southampton -- one of them on suspicion of supplying class A drugs and perverting the course of justice.
Apparently, free speech and a citizens right to complain seems to have been dropped from The Human Rights Act in Fareham. It shows a very 'devious and suppressive' side to the Hampshire cops, which writer Mike Whitby agrees with.
Galpin possibly an ex-cop of Fareham tells of a ludicrous dispute arising from casual remarks in a police canteen, which took two and a half years to resolve. He says that 11 high ranking officers were involved, two police sergeants and eight constables The 43yr old former Southampton Special Cop was arrested by cops investigating incidents involving motorists being subjected to on-the-spot fines.
It is stated that officers apprehended him on New Years Eve and he was bailed to appear before Southampton Magistrates. The Cop who was suspended by the Hampshire Police Force was charged with shoplifting and arrested on August the 3rd. It was said that the three Officers showed a complete lack of respect for their fellow officers. They were found to have used demeaning language regularly and had done so for a long time, as this case started in , a year ago.
The Chief Constable said that their behaviour and conduct was detestable Pulling something from the files, we found that a member of the Legal Profession complained about a police sergeant and said that he found their attitude insulting at the Havant Police Station. The allegations were of a serious nature, but the University decided not to act on it, and neither did the Hampshire Police Now its been revealed that the man accused was found out and fired Amid something of a lock down on public exposure and a mystery forming, news came in on December the 11th , that there had been the arrest of six men on the Isle of Wight in Hampshire, and three of those turned out to be police officers.
Julie Fry the Isle of Wight District Commander said the arrest of the three police officers were the result of a victim coming forward to complain about incidents that have been going on during Luty was arrested on his way home from Park Gate Police Station where he had been interviewing an officer who was the subject of a complaint.
She said she could smell alcohol on his breath during the interview, so she reported him to the station Officer, and Luty was followed home by cops who stopped him and arrested him.
He later appeared before Aldershot Magistrates and was said to be twice over the limit when tested. It certainly does no favours for the beleaguered cops of Hampshire and only helps to show that things are going on they'd rather the public did not know. Ex-Cop Aubry Hendy if actually true says he resigned after almost 18 years of service in the Hampshire Police He says he is now taking the Hampshire Police to Court.
He also touches on Freemasonry in the force Citing a second case Citing a third case PS - We shall be watching this site and the Hampshire Cops reaction to this. The shamed cop was to appear before magistrates and has been suspended. He ran off after being discovered by a citizen who grabbed his coat which yielded a bank statement with the officer's name on it.
He was put on the sex offenders register. The disgraced cop had two commendations for his work in the police. He appeared before magistrates in Staines. Another officer, un-named is also charged with keeping child porn images.
They appeared before magistrates at Bury St. It was alleged that he performed sex acts in front of a web cam in close up for the girl and said he wanted sex. An investigation team seized his pc and found images of child porn with children as young as five.
The Policeman appeared before Leeds Crown Court. The Met cop was allowed to join despite the reference on his application form. A spokesperson said there must have been an oversight when the vetting system failed in this particular incident.
The former cop was trapped in an Internet chat room sting. His seized computer revealed a stash of photographs showing children in lewd poses. The cop who won a medal in the police, is charged with indecent assault on a girl of 15 and another aged It is alleged that he used the police computer to contact two 12yr old girls in the USA, gather information on prostitutes, paedophiles and homosexuals, consort with a prostitute and exchanged photo images with with a fellow officer.
The officer who was stationed at Liverpool's Anne Street Station was suspended while further investigations took place. Unluckily for the constable, he was set upon by two other lads who came to the girls rescue. The officer stationed at Wanstead Police Station, London, refused to comment as he left the court. The Met Police said a resignation would be expected. Three young girls have accused him of sexual attacks that took place in the Tameside area of Manchester.
Based in Eltham, South East london, the constable has been bailed pending an appearance at court. The officer was actually involved in tapping the phone lines to catch offenders doing the same thing.
He was convicted of making nine malicious phone calls. After 24 years in the force he faces dismissal. He made a string of vile phone calls over the period of a year before being caught.
A Cyber Cafe set up by cops at their Luton based station in Bedfordshire came to a halt as cops tried to hack into porn sites on the Internet. The computers were installed with ' no go ' barriers, but officers tried avoiding these by making attempts to get into the system by a back door method. Cops carried out a further search in his home later, and found another And among all the objects in that landscape, I find myself returning at the last to those which I mentioned first.
In one way and another, those things have come to stand for so many other things, in the acted allegory of a human existence; the little church of my baptism and the waterworks, the bare, blind, dizzy tower of brick that seemed, to my first upward starings, to take hold upon the stars. Perhaps there was something in the confused and chaotic notion of a tower of water; as if the sea itself could stand on one end like a water-spout. Certainly later, though I hardly know how late, there came into my mind some fancy of a colossal water-snake that might be the Great Sea Serpent, and had something of the nightmare nearness of a dragon in a dream.
And, over against it, the small church rose in a spire like a spear; and I have always been pleased to remember that it was dedicated to St.
The very first thing I can ever remember seeing with my own eyes was a young man walking across a bridge. He had a curly moustache and an attitude of confidence verging on swagger. He carried in his hand a disproportionately large key of a shining yellow metal and wore a large golden or gilded crown. The bridge he was crossing sprang on the one side from the edge of a highly perilous mountain chasm, the peaks of the range rising fantastically in the distance; and at the other end it joined the upper part of the tower of an almost excessively castellated castle.
In the castle tower there was one window, out of which a young lady was looking. I cannot remember in the least what she looked like; but I will do battle with anyone who denies her superlative good looks. To those who may object that such a scene is rare in the home life of house-agents living immediately to the north of Kensington High Street, in the later seventies of the last century, I shall be compelled to admit, not that the scene was unreal, but that I saw it through a window more wonderful than the window in the tower; through the proscenium of a toy theatre constructed by my father; and that if I am really to be pestered about such irrelevant details the young man in the crown was about six inches high and proved on investigation to be made of cardboard.
But it is strictly true to say that I saw him before I can remember seeing anybody else; and that, so far as my memory is concerned, this was the sight on which my eyes first opened in this world. And the scene has to me a sort of aboriginal authenticity impossible to describe; something at the back of all my thoughts; like the very back-scene of the theatre of things. I have no shadow of recollection of what the young man was doing on the bridge, or of what he proposed to do with the key; though a later and wearier knowledge of literature and legend hints to me that he was not improbably going to release the lady from captivity.
It is a not unamusing detail of psychology that, though I can remember no other characters in the story, I do remember noting that the crowned gentleman had a moustache and no beard, with a vague inference that there was another crowned gentleman who had a beard as well. We may safely guess, I imagine, that the bearded one was by way of being a wicked king; and we should not need much more converging evidence to convict him of having locked up the lady in the tower.
All the rest is gone; scenes, subject, story, characters; but that one scene glows in my memory like a glimpse of some incredible paradise; and, for all I know, I shall still remember it when all other memory is gone out of my mind.
Apart from the fact of it being my first memory, I have several reasons for putting it first. I am no psychologist, thank God; but if psychologists are still saying what ordinary sane people have always said--that early impressions count considerably in life--I recognise a sort of symbol of all that I happen to like in imagery and ideas.
All my life I have loved edges; and the boundary-line that brings one thing sharply against another. All my life I have loved frames and limits; and I will maintain that the largest wilderness looks larger seen through a window. To the grief of all grave dramatic critics, I will still assert that the perfect drama must strive to rise to the higher ecstasy of the peep-show.
I have also a pretty taste in abysses and bottomless chasms and everything else that emphasises a fine shade of distinction between one thing and another; and the warm affection I have always felt for bridges is connected with the fact that the dark and dizzy arch accentuates the chasm even more than the chasm itself.
I can no longer behold the beauty of the princess; but I can see it in the bridge that the prince crossed to reach her. And I believe that in feeling these things from the first, I was feeling the fragmentary suggestions of a philosophy I have since found to be the truth. For it is upon that point of truth that there might perhaps be a quarrel between the more material psychologists and myself.
If any man tells me that I only take pleasure in the mysteries of the window and the bridge because I saw these models of them when I was a baby, I shall take the liberty of telling him that he has not thought the thing out.
To begin with, I must have seen thousands of other things before as well as after; and there must have been an element of selection and some reason for selection. And, what is still more obvious, to date the occasion does not even begin to deal with the fact. If some laborious reader of little books on child-psychology cries out to me in glee and cunning, "You only like romantic things like toy-theatres because your father showed you a toy-theatre in your childhood," I shall reply with gentle and Christian patience, "Yes, fool, yes.
Undoubtedly your explanation is, in that sense, the true one. But what you are saying, in your witty way, is simply that I associate these things with happiness because I was so happy. It does not even begin to consider the question of why I was so happy. Why should looking through a square hole, at yellow pasteboard, lift anybody into the seventh heaven of happiness at any time of life? Why should it specially do so at that time of life? That is the psychological fact that you have to explain; and I have never seen any sort of rational explanation.
I apologise for this parenthesis; and for mentioning child-psychology or anything else that can bring a blush to the cheek. But it happens to be a point on which I think some of our psycho-analysts display rather unblushing cheek. I do not wish my remarks confused with the horrible and degrading heresy that our minds are merely manufactured by accidental conditions, and therefore have no ultimate relation to truth at all.
With all possible apologies to the freethinkers, I still propose to hold myself free to think. And anybody who will think for two minutes will see that this thought is the end of all thinking. It is useless to argue at all, if all our conclusions are warped by our conditions. Nobody can correct anybody's bias, if all mind is all bias. The interlude is now over, thank you; and I will proceed to the more practical relations between my memory and my story. And it will first be necessary to say something about memory itself; and the reliability of such stories.
I have begun with this fragment of a fairy play in a toy-theatre, because it also sums up most clearly the strongest influences upon my childhood. I have said that the toy-theatre was made by my father; and anybody who has ever tried to make such a theatre or mount such a play, will know that this alone stands for a remarkable round of crafts and accomplishments.
It involves being in much more than the common sense the stage carpenter, being the architect and the builder and the draughtsman and the landscape-painter and the story-teller all in one.
And, looking back on my life, and the relatively unreal and indirect art that I have attempted to practise, I feel that I have really lived a much narrower life than my father's.
His mere name, of course, is enough to recall wider memories. One of my first memories is playing in the garden under the care of a girl with ropes of golden hair; to whom my mother afterwards called out from the house, "You are an angel;" which I was disposed to accept without metaphor.
She is now living in Vancouver as Mrs. Kidd; and she and her sister had more to do with enlivening my early years than most. Since then, I have met what used to be called the wits of the age; but I have never known wittier conversation. Among my first memories also are those seascapes that were blue flashes to boys of my generation; North Berwick with the cone of green hill that seemed like the hill absolute; and a French seaside associated with little girls, the daughters of my father's old friend Mawer Cowtan, whom I shall not forget.
But indeed I had a whole background of cousins; Tom Gilbert my godfather, who gave me his last and my first name had a large family of daughters, and my uncle Sidney a large family of sons; and they all still move in my memory almost like a male and female chorus in a great Greek play. The eldest of the boys, the one whom I once knew best, was killed with my brother in the Great War; but many of the others, I am glad to say, are still friends as well as relations.
All these are memorable memories; but they do not resolve that first individual speculation about memory itself. The girl with the yellow hair is an early memory, in the sense in which some of the others have inevitably become later memories, at once expanded and effaced. Really, the things we remember are the things we forget. I mean that when a memory comes back sharply and suddenly, piercing the protection of oblivion, it appears for an instant exactly as it really was. If we think of it often, while its essentials doubtless remain true, it becomes more and more our own memory of the thing rather than the thing remembered.
I had a little sister who died when I was a child. I have little to go on; for she was the only subject about which my father did not talk. It was the one dreadful sorrow of his abnormally happy and even merry existence; and it is strange to think that I never spoke to him about it to the day of his death.
I do not remember her dying; but I remember her falling off a rocking-horse. I know, from experience of bereavements only a little later, that children feel with exactitude, without a word of explanation, the emotional tone or tint of a house of mourning.
But in this case, the greater catastrophe must somehow have become confused and identified with the smaller one. I always felt it as a tragic memory, as if she had been thrown by a real horse and killed. Something must have painted and repainted the picture in my mind; until I suddenly became conscious about the age of eighteen that it had become the picture of Amy Robsart lying at the foot of the stairs, flung down by Vamey and another villain. This is the real difficulty about remembering anything; that we have remembered too much--for we have remembered too often.
I will take another example of this psychological trick, though it involves the anticipation of much later events in my life.
One of these glimpses of my own prehistoric history is a memory of a long upper room filled with light the light that never was on sea or land and of somebody carving or painting with white paint the deal head of a hobby-horse; the head almost archaic in its simplification. Ever since that day my depths have been stirred by a wooden post painted white; and even more so by any white horse in the street; and it was like meeting a friend in a fairytale to find myself under the sign of the White Horse at Ipswich on the first day of my honeymoon.
But for that very reason, this image has remained and memory has constantly returned to it; and I have even done my best to deface and spoil the purity of the White Horse by writing an interminable ballad about it.
A man does not generally manage to forget his wedding-day; especially such a highly comic wedding-day as mine. For the family remembers against me a number of now familiar legends, about the missing of trains, the losing of luggage, and other things counted yet more eccentric.
It is alleged against me, and with perfect truth, that I stopped on the way to drink a glass of milk in one shop and to buy a revolver with cartridges in another.
Some have seen these as singular wedding-presents for a bridegroom to give to himself; and if the bride had known less of him, I suppose she might have fancied that he was a suicide or a murderer or, worst of all, a teetotaller.
They seemed to me the most natural things in the world. I did not buy the pistol to murder myself or my wife; I never was really modern. I bought it because it was the great adventure of my youth, with a general notion of protecting her from the pirates doubtless infesting the Norfolk Broads, to which we were bound; where, after all, there are still a suspiciously large number of families with Danish names.
I shall not be annoyed if it is called childish; but obviously it was rather a reminiscence of boyhood, and not of childhood. But the ritual consumption of the glass of milk really was a reminiscence of childhood. I stopped at that particular dairy because I had always drunk a glass of milk there when walking with my mother in my infancy.
And it seemed to me a fitting ceremonial to unite the two great relations of a man's life. Outside the shop there was the figure of a White Cow as a sort of pendant to the figure of the White Horse; the one standing at the beginning of my new journey and the other at the end.
But the point is here that the very fact of these allegories having been acted over again, at the stage of marriage and maturity, does in a sense transform them, and does in some sense veil even while it invokes the original visions of the child. The sign of the White Horse has been repainted, and only in that sense painted out. I do not so much remember it as remember remembering it. But if I really want to be realistic about those remote days, I must scratch around till I find something not too much blunted to scratch me; something sufficiently forgotten to be remembered.
I make the experiment at this moment as I write. Searching for those lost surroundings, I recall for the first time, at this moment, that there was another shop, next to the milk-shop, which had some mysterious charm for my childhood; and then I recall that it was an oil and colour shop, and they sold gold paint smeared inside shells; and there was a sort of pale pointed chalks I have been less familiar with of late. I do not think here of the strong colours of the common paint-box, like crimson-lake and prussian-blue, much as I exulted and still exult in them.
For another boy called Robert Louis Stevenson has messed about with my colours upon that sort of palette; and I have grown up to enjoy them in print as well as in paint.
But when I remember that these forgotten crayons contained a stick of "light-red," seemingly a more commonplace colour, the point of that dull red pencil pricks me as if it could draw red blood. From this general memory about memory I draw a certain inference.
What was wonderful about childhood is that anything in it was a wonder. It was not merely a world full of miracles; it was a miraculous world. What gives me this shock is almost anything I really recall; not the things I should think most worth recalling.
This is where it differs from the other great thrill of the past, all that is connected with first love and the romantic passion; for that, though equally poignant, comes always to a point; and is narrow like a rapier piercing the heart, whereas the other was more like a hundred windows opened on all sides of the head.
I have made here a sort of psychological experiment in memory. I have tried to think of the things I forget adjoining the things I remember; and in the childish case, though they are without form, I am sure they are of the same tint.
I have long remembered the milk-shop; I have only just remembered the oil-shop; I have no notion at all about the next shop to the oil-shop.
I am sure it was a shop shining with the same lost light of morning; because it was in the same street under the same sky.
I have no notion on what street the row of windows in the long uplifted room looked out, when the white horse head was carved. But I feel in a flash that it was a happy street; or, if we must be pedantic, a street in which I should have been happy. Now it is not like that with even the happiest hours of the later things called love-affairs.
I have already mentioned how my honeymoon began before the White Cow of my childhood; but of course I had in my time been myself a calf, not to say a moon-calf, in the sort of calf-love that dances in the moonshine long before the honeymoon. Those day-dreams also are wrecks of something divine; but they have the colour of sunset rather than the broad daylight.
I have walked across wide fields at evening and seen, as a mere distant dot in a row of houses, one particular window and just distinguishable head; and been uplifted as with roaring trumpets as if by the salute of Beatrice. But it did not, and does not, make me think the other windows and houses were all almost equally interesting; and that is just what the glimpse of the baby's wonderland does. We have read countless pages about love brightening the sun and making the flowers more flamboyant; and it is true in a sense; but not in the sense I mean.
It changes the world; but the baby lived in a changeless world; or rather the man feels that it is he who has changed. He has changed long before he comes near to the great and glorious trouble of the love of woman; and that has in it something new and concentrated and crucial; crucial in the true sense of being as near as Cana to Calvary.
In the later case, what is loved becomes instantly what may be lost. My point here is that we can test the childish mood by thinking, not only of what was there, but of what must have been there. I think of the backs of houses of which I saw only the fronts; the streets that stretched away behind the streets I knew; the things that remained round the corner; and they still give me a thrill. One of the sports of the imagination, a game I have played all my life, was to take a certain book with pictures of old Dutch houses, and think not of what was in the pictures but of all that was out of the pictures, the unknown corners and side-streets of the same quaint town.
The book was one my father had written and illustrated himself, merely for home consumption. It was typical of him that, in the Pugin period he had worked at Gothic illumination; but when he tried again, it was in another style of the dark Dutch renaissance, the grotesque scroll-work that suggests woodcarving more than stone-cutting.
He was the sort of man who likes to try everything once. This was the only book he ever wrote; and he never bothered to publish it.
My father might have reminded people of Mr. Pickwick, except that he was always bearded and never bald; he wore spectacles and had all the Pickwickian evenness of temper and pleasure in the humours of travel. He was rather quiet than otherwise, but his quietude covered a great fertility of notions; and he certainly liked taking a rise out of people.
I remember, to give one example of a hundred such inventions, how he gravely instructed some grave ladies in the names of flowers; dwelling especially on the rustic names given in certain localities.
They followed him without revulsion when he said lightly, "Merely a sprig of wild bigamy. It was possibly this aspect of his unfailing amiability that is responsible for an entry I find in an ancient minute-book, of mock trials conducted by himself and his brothers; that Edward Chesterton was tried for the crime of Aggravation. But the same sort of invention created for children the permanent anticipation of what is profoundly called a Surprise. And it is this side of the business that is relevant here.
His versatility both as an experimentalist and a handy man, in all such matters, was amazing. His den or study was piled high with the stratified layers of about ten or twelve creative amusements; water-colour painting and modelling and photography and stained glass and fretwork and magic lanterns and mediaeval illumination.
I have inherited, or I hope imitated, his habit of drawing; but in every other way I am emphatically an unhandy man. There had been some talk of his studying art professionally in his youth; but the family business was obviously safer; and his life followed the lines of a certain contented and ungrasping prudence, which was extraordinarily typical of him and all his blood and generation.
He never dreamed of turning any of these plastic talents to any mercenary account, or of using them for anything but his own private pleasure and ours.
To us he appeared to be indeed the Man with the Golden Key, a magician opening the gates of goblin castles or the sepulchres of dead heroes; and there was no incongruity in calling his lantern a magic-lantern. But all this time he was known to the world, and even the next-door neighbours, as a very reliable and capable though rather unambitious business man.
It was a very good first lesson in what is also the last lesson of life; that in everything that matters, the inside is much larger than the outside. On the whole I am glad that he was never an artist. It might have stood in his way in becoming an amateur.
It might have spoilt his career; his private career. He could never have made a vulgar success of all the thousand things he did so successfully. If I made a generalisation about the Chestertons, my paternal kinsfolk which may be dangerous, for there are a lot of them still alive , I should say that they were and are extraordinarily English. They have a perceptible and prevailing colour of good nature, of good sense not untinged with dreaminess, and a certain tranquil loyalty in their personal relations which was very notable even in one, like my brother Cecil, who in his public relations was supremely pugnacious and provocative.
I think this sort of sleepy sanity rather an English thing; and in comparison it may not be entirely fanciful to suppose there was something French, after all, in the make-up of my mother's family; for, allowing for the usual admixture, they ran smaller in stature, often darker in colouring, tough, extraordinarily tenacious, prejudiced in a humorous fashion and full of the fighting spirit. But whatever we may guess in such matters and nobody has yet done anything but guess about heredity it was for another purpose that I mentioned the savour of something racial about such a stock.
English in so many things, the Chestertons were supremely English in their natural turn for hobbies. It is an element in this sort of old English business man which divides him most sharply from the American business man, and to some extent from the new English business man, who is copying the American.
When the American begins to suggest that "salesmanship can be an art," he means that an artist ought to put all his art into his salesmanship. The old-fashioned Englishman, like my father, sold houses for his living but filled his own house with his life. A hobby is not a holiday. It is not merely a momentary relaxation necessary to the renewal of work; and in this respect it must be sharply distinguished from much that is called sport.
A good game is a good thing, but it is not the same thing as a hobby; and many go golfing or shooting grouse because this is a concentrated form of recreation; just as what our contemporaries find in whisky is a concentrated form of what our fathers found diffused in beer.
If half a day is to take a man out of himself, or make a new man of him, it is better done by some sharp competitive excitement like sport. But a hobby is not half a day but half a life-time. It would be truer to accuse the hobbyist of living a double life. And hobbies, especially such hobbies as the toy theatre, have a character that runs parallel to practical professional effort, and is not merely a reaction from it.
It is not merely taking exercise; it is doing work. It is not merely exercising the body instead of the mind, an excellent but now largely a recognised thing. It is exercising the rest of the mind; now an almost neglected thing. When Browning, that typical Victorian, says that he likes to know a butcher paints and a baker writes poetry, he would not be satisfied with the statement that a butcher plays tennis or a baker golf.
And my father and uncles, also typical Victorians of the sort that followed Browning, were all marked in varying degrees by this taste for having their own tastes. One of them gave all his spare time to gardening and has somewhere in the horticultural records a chrysanthemum named after him, dating from the first days when chrysanthemums came to us from the islands of the Rising Sun.
Another travelled in an ordinary commercial fashion, but made a most amazing collection of cranks and quacks, fitted to fill a far better memoir than this, whom he had met in his wanderings, and with whom he had argued and sympathised and quoted Browning and George Macdonald, and done I fancy not a little good, for he was himself a most interesting man; above all, interesting because he was interested. But in my own household, as I have said, it was not a question of one hobby but a hundred hobbies, piled on top of each other; and it is a personal accident, or perhaps a personal taste, that the one which has clung to my memory through life is the hobby of the toy theatre.
In any case, watching such work has made one great difference to my life and views to this day. I cannot do much, by the standard of my nursery days. But I have learned to love seeing things done; not the handle that ultimately causes them to be done, but the hand that does them. If my father had been some common millionaire owning a thousand mills that made cotton, or a million machines that made cocoa, how much smaller he would have seemed.
And this experience has made me profoundly sceptical of all the modern talk about the necessary dullness of domesticity; and the degrading drudgery that only has to make puddings and pies. Only to make things! There is no greater thing to be said of God Himself than that He makes things. The manufacturer cannot even manufacture things; he can only pay to have them manufactured.
And in the same way I am now incurably afflicted with a faint smile, when I hear a crowd of frivolous people, who could not make anything to save their lives, talking about the inevitable narrowness and stuffiness of the Victorian home.
We managed to make a good many things in our Victorian home which people now buy at insane prices from Art and Craft Shops; the sort of shops that have quite as much craft as art. All the things that happened in the house, or were in any sense done on the premises, linger in my imagination like a legend; and as much as any, those connected with the kitchen or the pantry.
Toffee still tastes nicer to me than the most expensive chocolates which Quaker millionaires sell by the million; and mostly because we made toffee for ourselves. I may say with all modesty that I am that man, in everything except his solidity of repute and his successful commercial career. It was perhaps even more true, in that sense, of my father before me; but I for one have never left off playing, and I wish there were more time to play.
I wish we did not have to fritter away on frivolous things, like lectures and literature, the time we might have given to serious, solid and constructive work like cutting out cardboard figures and pasting coloured tinsel upon them. When I say this, I come to the third reason for taking the toy theatre as a text; and it is one about which there will be much misunderstanding, because of the repetitions and the stale sentiment that have somehow come to cling to it.
It is one of those things that are always misunderstood, because they have been too often explained. I am inclined to contradict much of the modern Cult of the Child at Play. Through various influences of a recent and rather romantic culture, the Child has become rather the Spoilt Child. The true beauty has been spoilt by the rather unscrupulous emotion of mature persons, who have themselves lost much of their sense of reality.
The worst heresy of this school is that a child is concerned only with make-believe. For this is interpreted in the sense, at once sentimental and sceptical, that there is not much difference between make-believe and belief. But the real child does not confuse fact and fiction.
He simply likes fiction. He acts it, because he cannot as yet write it or even read it; but he never allows his moral sanity to be clouded by it. To him no two things could possibly be more totally contrary than playing at robbers and stealing sweets. No possible amount of playing at robbers would ever bring him an inch nearer to thinking it is really right to rob.
I saw the distinction perfectly clearly when I was a child; I wish I saw it half as clearly now. I played at being a robber for hours together at the end of the garden; but it never had anything to do with the temptation I had to sneak a new paint-box out of my father's room. I was not being anything false; I was simply writing before I could write. Fortunately, perhaps, for the condition of the back-garden, I early transferred my dreams to some rude resemblance to writing; chiefly in the form of drawing straggling and sprawling maps of fabulous countries, inhabited by men of incredible shapes and colours and bearing still more incredible names.
But though I might fill the world with dragons, I never had the slightest real doubt that heroes ought to fight with dragons. I must stop to challenge many child-lovers for cruelty to children. It is quite false to say that the child dislikes a fable that has a moral. Very often he likes the moral more than the fable.
Adults are reading their own more weary mockery into a mind still vigorous enough to be entirely serious. Adults like the comic Sandford and Merton. Children liked the real Sandford and Merton. I venture to dwell on the point if only in parenthesis: Indeed there is what may be called a current cant; and none the less so because it is a cant against cant. It is now so common as to be conventional to express impatience with priggish and moralising stories for children; stories of the old-fashioned sort that concern things like the sinfulness of theft; and as I am recalling an old-fashioned atmosphere, I cannot refrain from testifying on the psychology of the business.
Now I must heartily confess that I often adored priggish and moralising stories. I do not suppose I should gain a subtle literary pleasure from them now; but that is not the point in question.
The men who denounce such moralisings are men; they are not children. But I believe multitudes would admit their early affection for the moral tale, if they still had the moral courage. And the reason is perfectly simple. Adults have reacted against such morality, because they know that it often stands for immorality. They know that such platitudes have been used by hypocrites and pharisees, by cunning or perversion.
But the child knows nothing about cunning or perversion. He sees nothing but the moral ideals themselves, and he simply sees that they are true. There is another blunder made by the modern cynic about the moralising story-teller. The former always imagines that there is an element of corruption, in his own cynical manner, about the idea of reward, about the position of the child who can say, as in Stevenson's verses, "Every day when I've been good, I get an orange after food. The modern philosopher knows that it would require a very large bribe indeed to induce him to be good.
It therefore seems to the modern philosopher what it would seem to the modern politician to say, "I will give you fifty thousand pounds when you have, on some one definite and demonstrated occasion, kept your word. But it does not seem like that to the child. It would not seem like that to the child, if the Fairy Queen said to the Prince, "You will receive the golden apple from the magic tree when you have fought the dragon. He does not think that good things are in their nature separate from being good.
In other words, he does not, like the reluctant realist, regard goodness as a bad thing. To him the goodness and the gift and the golden apple, that is called an orange, are all parts of one substantial paradise and naturally go together.
In other words, he regards himself as normally on amiable terms with the natural authorities; not normally as quarrelling or bargaining with them. He has the ordinary selfish obstacles and misunderstandings; but he does not, in his heart, regard it as odd that his parents should be good to him, to the extent of an orange, or that he should be good to them, to the extent of some elementary experiments in good behaviour.
He has no sense of being corrupted. It is only we, who have eaten the forbidden apple or orange who think of pleasure as a bribe. My main purpose here, however, is to say this.
To me my whole childhood has a certain quality, which may be indescribable but is not in the least vague. It is rather more definite than the difference between pitch dark and daylight, or between having a toothache and not having a toothache. For the sequel of the story, it is necessary to attempt this first and hardest chapter of the story: Of this positive quality the most general attribute was clearness.
Here it is that I differ, for instance, from Stevenson, whom I so warmly admire; and who speaks of the child as moving with his head in a cloud. He talks of the child as normally in a dazed daydream, in which he cannot distinguish fancy from fact. Now children and adults are both fanciful at times; but that is not what, in my mind and memory, distinguishes adults from children.
Mine is a memory of a sort of white light on everything, cutting things out very clearly, and rather emphasising their solidity. The point is that the white light had a sort of wonder in it, as if the world were as new as myself; but not that the world was anything but a real world. I am much more disposed now to fancy that an apple-tree in the moonlight is some sort of ghost or grey nymph; or to see the furniture fantastically changing and crawling at twilight, as in some story of Poe or Hawthorne.
But when I was a child I had a sort of confident astonishment in contemplating the apple-tree as an apple-tree. I was sure of it, and also sure of the surprise of it; as sure, to quote the perfect popular proverb, as sure as God made little apples. The apples might be as little as I was; but they were solid and so was I. There was something of an eternal morning about the mood; and I liked to see a fire lit more than to imagine faces in the firelight.
Brother Fire, whom St. Francis loved, did seem more like a brother than those dream-faces which come to men who have known other emotions than brotherhood. I do not know whether I ever, as the phrase goes, cried for the moon; but I am sure that I should have expected it to be solid like some colossal snowball; and should always have had more appetite for moons than for mere moonshine.
Only figures of speech can faintly express the fact; but it was a fact and not a figure of speech. What I said first about the toy theatre may be urged in contradiction, and as an example of delight in a mere illusion. In that case, what I said first about the toy theatre will be entirely misunderstood. In fact, there was in that business nothing of an illusion or of a disillusion. If this were a ruthless realistic modern story, I should of course give a most heartrendering account of how my spirit was broken with disappointment, on discovering that the prince was only a painted figure.
But this is not a ruthless realistic modern story. On the contrary, it is a true story. And the truth is that I do not remember that I was in any way deceived or in any way undeceived. The whole point is that I did like the toy theatre even when I knew it was a toy theatre. I did like the cardboard figures, even when I found they were of cardboard.
The white light of wonder that shone on the whole business was not any sort of trick; indeed the things that now shine most in my memory were many of them mere technical accessories; such as the parallel sticks of white wood that held the scenery in place; a white wood that is still strangely mixed in my imaginative instincts with all the holy trade of the Carpenter.
It was the same with any number of other games or pretences in which I took delight; as in the puppet-show of Punch and Judy. I not only knew that the figures were made of wood, but I wanted them to be made of wood.
I could not imagine such a resounding thwack being given except by a wooden stick on a wooden head. But I took the sort of pleasure that a primitive man might have taken in a primitive craft, in seeing that they were carved and painted into a startling and grimacing caricature of humanity. I was pleased that the piece of wood was a face; but I was also pleased that the face was a piece of wood.
That did not mean that the drama of wood, like the other drama of cardboard, did not reveal to me real ideas and imaginations, and give me glorious glimpses into the possibilities of existence. Of course the child did not analyse himself then; and the man cannot analyse him now. But I am certain he was not merely tricked or trapped. He enjoyed the suggestive function of art exactly as an art critic enjoys it; only he enjoyed it a jolly sight more.
For the same reason I do not think that I myself was ever very much worried about Santa Claus, or that alleged dreadful whisper of the little boy that Father Christmas "is only your father. My fixed idolatry of Punch and Judy illustrated the same fact and the same fallacy. I was not only grateful for the fun, but I came to feel grateful for the very fittings and apparatus of the fun; the four-cornered tower of canvas with the one square window at the top, and everything down to the minimum of conventional and obviously painted scenery.
Yet these were the very things I ought to have torn and rent in rage, as the trappings of imposture, if I had really regarded the explanation as spoiling the experience.
I was pleased, and not displeased, when I discovered that the magic figures could be moved by three human fingers. And I was right; for those three human fingers are more magical than any magic figures; the three fingers which hold the pen and the sword and the bow of the violin; the very three fingers that the priest lifts in benediction as the emblem of the Blessed Trinity. There was no conflict between the two magics in my mind. I will here sum up in four statements, which will look very like puzzles upon this page.
I can assure the reader that they have a relevance to the ultimate upshot of this book. Having littered the world with thousands of essays for a living, I am doubtless prone to let this story stray into a sort of essay; but I repeat that it is not an essay but a story.
So much so, that I am here employing a sort of device from a detective story. In the first few pages of a police novel, there are often three or four hints rather to rouse curiosity than allay it; so that the curate's start of recognition, the cockatoo's scream in the night, the burnt blotting-paper or the hasty avoidance of the subject of onions is exhibited in the beginning though not explained until the end.
So it is with the dull and difficult interlude of this chapter; a mere introspection about infancy which is not introspective. The patient reader may yet discover that these dark hints have something to do with the ensuing mystery of my misguided existence, and even with the crime that comes before the end.
Anyhow, I will set them down here without discussion of anything which they foreshadow. First; my life unfolded itself in the epoch of evolution; which really only means unfolding.
But many of the evolutionists of that epoch really seemed to mean by evolution the unfolding of what is not there. I have since, in a special sense, come to believe in development, which means the unfolding of what is there. Now it may seem both a daring and a doubtful boast, if I claim that in my childhood I was all there. At least, many of those who knew me best were quite doubtful about it.
But I mean that the distinctions I make here were all there; I was not conscious of them but I contained them. In short, they existed in infancy in the condition called implicit; though they certainly did not then express themselves in what is commonly called implicit obedience. Second; I knew, for instance, that pretending is not deceiving. I could not have defined the distinction if it had been questioned; but that was because it had never occurred to me that it could be questioned.
It was merely because a child understands the nature of art, long before he understands the nature of argument. Now it is still not uncommon to say that images are idols and that idols are dolls. I am content to say here that even dolls are not idols, but in the true sense images.
The very word images means things necessary to imagination. But not things contrary to reason; no, not even in a child. For imagination is almost the opposite of illusion. Third; I have noted that I enjoyed Punch and Judy as a drama and not a dream; and indeed the whole extraordinary state of mind I strive to recapture was really the very reverse of a dream.
It was rather as if I was more wide-awake then than I am now, and moving in broader daylight, which was to our broad daylight what daylight is to dusk. Only, of course, to those seeing the last gleam of it through the dusk, the light looks more uncanny than any darkness. Anyhow, it looks quite different; of that I am absolutely and solidly certain; though in such a subjective matter of sensation there can be no demonstration.
What was the real meaning of that difference? I have some sort of notion now; but I will not mention it at this stage of the story. Fourth; it will be quite natural, it will also be quite wrong, to infer from all this that I passed a quite exceptionally comfortable childhood in complete contentment; or else that my memory is merely a sundial that has only marked the sunny hours. But that is not in the least what I mean; that is quite a different question.
I was often unhappy in childhood like other children; but happiness and unhappiness seemed of a different texture or held on a different tenure.
I was very often naughty in childhood like other children; and I never doubted for a moment the moral of all the moral tales; that, as a general principle, people ought to be unhappy when they have been naughty. That is, I held the whole idea of repentance and absolution implicit but not unfolded in my mind. To add to all this, I was by no means unacquainted with pain, which is a pretty unanswerable thing; I had a fair amount of toothache and especially earache; and few can bemuse themselves into regarding earache as a form of epicurean hedonism.
But here again there is a difference. For some unaccountable reason, and in some indescribable way, the pain did not leave on my memory the sort of stain of the intolerable or mysterious that it leaves on the mature mind. To all these four facts I can testify; exactly as if they were facts like my loving a toy gun or climbing a tree. Their meaning, in the murder or other mystery, will appear later.
For I fear I have prolonged preposterously this note on the nursery; as if I had been an unconscionable time, not dying but being born, or at least being brought up. Well, I believe in prolonging childhood; and I am not sorry that I was a backward child. But I can only say that this nursery note is necessary if all the rest is to be anything but nonsense; and not even nursery nonsense. In the chapters that follow, I shall pass to what are called real happenings, though they are far less real.
Without giving myself any airs of the adventurer or the globe-trotter, I may say I have seen something of the world; I have travelled in interesting places and talked to interesting men; I have been in political quarrels often turning into faction fights; I have talked to statesmen in the hour of the destiny of states; I have met most of the great poets and prose writers of my time; I have travelled in the track of some of the whirlwinds and earthquakes in the ends of the earth; I have lived in houses burned down in the tragic wars of Ireland; I have walked through the ruins of Polish palaces left behind by the Red Armies; I have heard talk of the secret signals of the Ku Klux Klan upon the borders of Texas; I have seen the fanatical Arabs come up from the desert to attack the Jews in Jerusalem.
There are many journalists who have seen more of such things than I; but I have been a journalist and I have seen such things; there will be no difficulty in filling other chapters with such things; but they will be unmeaning, if nobody understands that they still mean less to me than Punch and Judy on Campden Hill.
In a word; I have never lost the sense that this was my real life; the real beginning of what should have been a more real life; a lost experience in the land of the living. It seems to me that when I came out of the house and stood on that hill of houses, where the roads sank steeply towards Holland Park, and terraces of new red houses could look out across a vast hollow and see far away the sparkle of the Crystal Palace and seeing it was a juvenile sport in those parts , I was subconsciously certain then, as I am consciously certain now, that there was the white and solid road and the worthy beginning of the life of man; and that it is man who afterwards darkens it with dreams or goes astray from it in self-deception.
It is only the grown man who lives a life of make-believe and pretending; and it is he who has his head in a cloud. At this time, of course, I did not even know that this morning light could be lost; still less about any controversies as to whether it could be recovered.
So far the disputes of that period passed over my head like storms high up in air; and as I did not foresee the problem I naturally did not foresee any of my searches for a solution. I simply looked at the procession in the street as I looked at the processions in the toy-theatre; and now and then I happened to see curious things, two-pence coloured rather than a penny plain, which were worthy of the wildest pageants of the toy-theatre. I remember once walking with my father along Kensington High Street, and seeing a crowd of people gathered by a rather dark and narrow entry on the southern side of that thoroughfare.
I had seen crowds before; and was quite prepared for their shouting or shoving. But I was not prepared for what happened next. In a flash a sort of ripple ran along the line and all these eccentrics went down on their knees on the public pavement.
I had never seen people play any such antics except in church; and I stopped and stared. Then I realised that a sort of little dark cab or carriage had drawn up opposite the entry; and out of it came a ghost clad in flames. Nothing in the shilling paint-box had ever spread such a conflagration of scarlet, such lakes of lake; or seemed so splendidly likely to incarnadine the multitudinous sea. He came on with all his glowing draperies like a great crimson cloud of sunset, lifting long frail fingers over the crowd in blessing.
And then I looked at his face and was startled with a contrast; for his face was dead pale like ivory and very wrinkled and old, fitted together out of naked nerve and bone and sinew; with hollow eyes in shadow; but not ugly; having in every line the ruin of great beauty. The face was so extraordinary that for a moment I even forgot such perfectly scrumptious scarlet clothes.
The change from childhood to boyhood, and the mysterious transformation that produces that monster the schoolboy, might be very well summed up in one small fact. To me the ancient capital letters of the Greek alphabet, the great Theta, a sphere barred across the midst like Saturn, or the great Upsilon, standing up like a tall curved chalice, have still a quite unaccountable charm and mystery, as if they were the characters traced in wide welcome over Eden of the dawn.
The ordinary small Greek letters, though I am now much more familiar with them, seem to me quite nasty little things like a swarm of gnats. As for Greek accents, I triumphantly succeeded, through a long series of school-terms, in avoiding learning them at all; and I never had a higher moment of gratification than when I afterwards discovered that the Greeks never learnt them either. I felt, with a radiant pride, that I was as ignorant as Plato and Thucydides.
At least they were unknown to the Greeks who wrote the prose and poetry that was thought worth studying; and were invented by grammarians, I believe, at the time of the Renaissance. But it is a simple psychological fact; that the sight of a Greek capital still fills me with happiness, the sight of a small letter with indifference tinged with dislike, and the accents with righteous indignation reaching the point of profanity.
And I believe that the explanation is that I learnt the large Greek letters, as I learnt the large English letters, at home. I was told about them merely for fun while I was still a child; while the others I learnt during the period of what is commonly called education; that is, the period during which I was being instructed by somebody I did not know, about something I did not want to know.
But I say this merely to show that I was a much wiser and widerminded person at the age of six than at the age of sixteen.
Poem of the Masses. my smile melts with confusion artisticly enhanced she titty-danced her clients glanced at her mammarily-expansed bust, de-pantsed. II.—THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN KEY. The very first thing I can ever remember seeing with my own eyes was a young man walking across a bridge. He had a curly moustache and an attitude of confidence verging on swagger. FEATURED COPS. This section, and it is huge, looks at cases, dirty cops and what the Police do not like you to see about themselves. I will not bore you with their claims of unfairness on my part and the denials they continually issue to cover up their malpractice.