Way back in the late 1970s, when I used to patrol the streets of Peckham, south London, in my immaculately maintained police uniform, we had a marvellous word that we used to describe persistent, irritating, rude or lawless youths.
Whilst the media, the courts and the establishment would give these feral kids titles such as ‘juvenile delinquents’ or ‘recidivist offenders’, we preferred to call them scrotes.
Whenever you used the word scrote in conversation with a colleague, or someone else within the criminal justice system, they knew immediately and precisely the type of person you were discussing. There was never the need for any clarification.
Needless to say, I nicked a few scrotes. I chased a few, I rugby tackled a few, and I unceremoniously threw many of them into the back of the police van. I loved it, and it was what the law-abiding public paid me to do.
Quite often the scrotes would be mouthy. They’d show off in front of their mates by giving the old bill a bit of lip, but the moment they overstepped the mark, I’d grab them by the scruff of the neck and introduce them to the pavement. They tended to pipe down a bit at that point.
Fitting the handcuffs particularly snugly, in order to ensure that a scrote couldn’t slip out of them of course, was also another oft-used tactic that encouraged once gobby youngsters to pipe down a bit. The crimes for which such scrotes would be arrested were varied, and ranged from behaviour likely to cause a breach of the peace, to theft, burglary, taking and driving away a car, handling stolen goods, criminal damage and more.
The carrying of knives was a problem back then, although the scale of it was nowhere near the epidemic that it has become today.
Consequently, quite a few scrotes got nicked for possession of an offensive weapon, or ‘off weep’ as we frequently abbreviated it to.
Back then, most senior police officers had actually seen a fair bit of service on the front line. They had well-earned reputations, which were supported by well-worn tales that would precede them, and told of their courage, or detective brilliance, or outstanding leadership, or all of the above.
One of the many examples of leading from the front from my first inspector came when we attended the suicide of a teenager who had taken his own life with a shotgun.
PC Lorne Castle. Remember that name. What the police did to him is a warning to us all - Peter Bleksley
Dorset Police/PA Wire/GB News
I’ll spare you the details, but the scene was horrific, and Inspector Snoad insisted on doing the clean-up himself, thereby sparing any of his team and the grieving parents that awful task. That, my friends, is leadership.
Last week, PC Lorne Castle, recently of Dorset Police, was sacked, having been found guilty by a panel of Gross Misconduct. I’ve seen some footage of the events for which Castle got the boot, but as is so often the case, we do not get to see all the background and build-up to events.
It is fair to say, and Castle himself admits this, that he could have handled himself and the scrote he was nicking a bit better than he did. I think his actions warranted some degree of sanction, perhaps a written warning and some re-training, but in my opinion, sacking him was extreme and unnecessary.
It seems I’m not alone in holding this view, because a fundraiser for PC Lorne recently stood at £100,000 and counting. A couple of days after the news of PC Castle’s dismissal broke, and in light of the publicity the case attracted, an uninspiring senior officer from The Met was being questioned by committee members of the London Assembly about supporting officers who operate on the front line, the really sharp end of policing.
This commander, whom I had never heard of, and who appears to be yet another one of those who has risen without a trace, started spouting off about ‘the values of the organisation’. I’m sure it’s very easy to be a paragon of virtue when you’re sitting behind a leather-topped desk all day, and the only danger you might face is that of getting a paper cut.
It’s a bit more challenging when you’re rolling around on the pavement with a knife-carrying scrote like PC Castle had. This senior officer didn’t strike me as the kind of leader who would readily grab a mop and bucket, as well as get down on his hands and knees, in order to spare his team possible trauma like Inspector Snood had done all those years ago.
‘The Job’ has fallen a long, long way from what it used to be. It’s never been perfect, and it never will be, because it’s full of people, and people sometimes make mistakes or do bad things, but by crikey, the public and the front line were served so much better back in my day.
We all have reason to be afraid.
Following an outpouring of support from the public, Castle wants to clear his name and is in the process of appealing the decision.
A fundraiser has been set up by a retired temporary Chief Inspector at Dorset Police, Chris Amey, who oversaw Castle’s training as both a PCSO and PC.
You can donate on the GoFundMe page
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