Police sniffer dog

Well there is a limit!!!!

look at the eyes.

23 March 2007 reunion

This ode was created by an unknown author prior to Christmas Eve 1976

A CHRISTMAS HOWL

T'was Christmas Eve in the Police Force and the Sherbert Lodge clock struck ten,
Scrooge McCraddock sat in his office and in his misers hand a pen,
Outside t'was cold and frosty and snow lay all around,
Scrooge McCraddock was shivering though his lips uttered not a sound.
As he sat in his quiet office,
At his hand stood a bottle a gin,
Icicles formed at his noseholes,
And hung from his wiskery chin.
His eyes they glowed like rubies,
And his face was dark and grim.
He dreamed of revenge, on Mansfield Traffic
For all they had done to him.
As he leapt to his feet in a fury,
He cried, "I hate the Mansfield crew".
He babbled to himself inanely,
And thought of what he would do.
For many long years I've suffered the jibes,
And taunts of those Mansfield twits.
But now I shall take for myself "Revenge"
On that horrible shower of 's....s'.
A Christmas message is what I'll send,
With jibes and sarcastic parts.
I'll give them, 'Buy a blue battleship',
Merry Christmas you horrible farts.
To Pc POINTON I shall send
A Marjorie Proops slimming guide.
Cause we're buying smaller patrol cars
And he's too fat to get inside.
For Pc PIERCE, (The Silent One),
Squeaky boots for when he walks,
And in case he wants to say something,
A loud hailer for when he talks.
Outside the house of Dave HALLAM,
Yellow lines on the road I'll unroll.
To stop him parking his Police car,
When he really should be on patrol.
To Vic PATTINSON known as old 'Fish Face',
I'll send a bionic lung.
'Cause the longer he stays underwater,
The less I have to look at the bum.
I've heard of this Pc Dave HEWITT,
Between blonde curtly hair and nice molars.
I know what I'll send him for Xmas,
A set of Carmen Hair Rollers.
The hair of Pc T. SPENCER,
Is exceedingly grey I am told.
I wonder if there's truth in the rumour,
He's not grey at all, he's just bald.
Jim MOODY's a new chap at Traffic,
And under his feet there's no hairs.
But with regard to producing your sketch plans,
You produce them in ones lad, not pairs.
Pc HOLMES has been Acting up Sergeant,
At Mansfield and Worksop Police Station.
I know what I'll send him for Xmas,
A Passover Feast invitation.
Pc TROLLEY they say has got everything,
With silver spoon in his mouth he was born.
He'll tell you that his is the greatest,
And it's longer and stronger than your'n.
Pc GREADY's also been Acting Sergeant,
And I think a fair Sergeant he'd make.
But this lad has quite a problem,
He has difficulty staying awake.
Pc HILL who is nicknamed the 'Smiler',
Has never been known to laugh.
Because if he did, it's a pound to a quid,
That his face would fall in half.
"Stoolie Rembrant" they call Pc SENTANCE,
Drawing sketch plans has won him his name,
But he spends lots of time in 'Mins' office,
I wonder what's his little game.
Jim DOOHAN, he has a slight problem,
That even his best friend can't tell.
But I can't stand by and say nothing,
Jim land, your armholes they smell.
I've heard about Pc Clive STARKEY,
I'm told that he's a bit thick,
I don't know a great deal about this lad,
'Cause the bugger is always off sick.
In a home owned by D SULLEY,
Overalls are worn by the mouse,
In respect of the area surrounding,
Wipe your feet please when leaving his house.
On Sundays I've heard Pc STEVENS,
Get up to his usual frolics,
Swinging round goalposts like 'Urko',
And when spoke to he'll just say 'Aw Bollocks'.
Pc JONES has gone in for dressmaking,
And sewing and all that sort of stuff.
I think JONES has been underrated,
Do you think he's becoming a Puff.
Keith HARDSTAFF is known as the 'Slurper',
He drinks tea with noise like a weir.
Before I make him up Sergeant,
He can learn to drink through his ear.
Phil HURT, the immaculate conception,
Striven with his might and mane.
To present himself as perfection,
But in my asshole he gives me a pain.
When J. ALLCOCK calls up on duty,
We never know what call sign he'll use.
Tango, Charlie, Bravo or Alpha,
I think the boy is confused.
There's nothing I know of John DILLON,
He's not been in trouble I hear,
He must get up to something,
I wonder if the buggers a queer.
Min MARRIOTT the Typist at Mansfield,
A lady of good repute,
She paints up her face and combs up her hair,
'Till she looks like an old hobnailed boot.
Merry Xmas to Inspector TEATHER,
He'd leave Mansfield if he had his way.
But 'till Hell freezes over Inspector,
At Mansfield you're going to stay.
Inspector BLAGG likes to send nasty memo's,
To the lads on his section, I see.
I like to send nasty memo's,
I think he's modelling himself on me.
Sergeant WIGGLESWORTH the worrier at Mansfield,
and jobwise he don't get much fun,
But if any of the lads defect motors,
It's, "Oh Sir, just look what they've done".
By now Scrooge McCraddock was exhausted,
His head hanging low on his chest,
The whole of his body fell forward,
And he thumped his head on the desk.
"One last greeting", he cried in his anguish,
"And my work is finished down here".,
A very miserable Christmas,
And a Most Unhappy New Year.
From Scrooge McCraddoc life now departed,
But Police Angels were standing close by,
And they carried the soul of our master,
To the great Police Force in the sky.

This tale is entirely fictitious and any resemblance of its characters to any persons living or dead is merely coincidental.
And we still have not found the author!

The re-union, Ex-County Traffic & Dog Section held at The Staff of Life Public House, 23 March 2007 was a great success.

Mick Holmes did say it was to be the last, but hopefully he will change his mind.

A little poetic licence

THE START OF MY CAREER, AS A POLICE CADET

Upon leaving school, with little ambition,

No profession to follow from family tradition.

I started at first with a friend, Dad had made

At a place in Nottingham, dyeing and finishing trade.

Gaining results from exams I had sat.

With 5 O'levels and a head too big for my hat,.

I went straight to the manager and asked for a few bob,

To reward these results, or a better job.

He sat at his desk, thought long and hard,

Then said, " Go downstairs lad and pick up your card".

Not Christmas or my birthday I thought, looking back.

When I picked it up, I'd been given the sack.

No hardship, those days, of finding more work,

There was plenty about and no need to shirk.

The money wasn't good, I was only a kid,

But, by living at home, what was a quid?

This time, I wanted to find a position,

With prospects, good pay, a purpose, a mission.

So I landed a job, testing water, from a well.

A lab technician, at Spray & Burgess, Bulwell.

With dye baths, water checks and Technical School,

This gave me nothing and I felt a fool

To continue, when I could do better.

So, to the Notts. Constabulary I wrote a letter.

Saturday morning was the day for the 'tests',

Good knowledge of English, I knew I'd been blessed

With the tools to pass what they could offer.

Big head, once more, I came a cropper.

English, Maths, dictation, all went well,

Then along came Geography, bloody hell!.

Not taught anything at school to do with that,

I felt a little daft, and quite a pratt.

With paper handed in, no answers, quite bare,

Inspector Buckley said, "Now pull up a chair.

Sit down again, you're intelligent, not thick.

Write anything, but make it stick".

Done with conviction and adequate diction,

The answers I gave, were now perfect fiction.

An interview later, with medical, passed.

Outside the office, with others I massed.

To us all, "Well done lads", the Inspector cried,

"Pick up your uniforms and wear 'em wi' pride".

Undercover Police Dog?

P.c. Taff Sydenham

Taff with Police Dog Wotan

A DOBE CALLED ‘PIDDLING PETE’

by

Taff Sydenham

You’ve heard about the villains

Who roamed the old Wild West.

You’ve heard about their marksmanship

Twas shooting at its best.

There were heroes, there were villains

Whose lives were short and sweet.

But none could match the swiftness

Of a Dobe, called ‘Piddling Pete’.

A hero or a villain,

Call him what you wish.

His organ was his pistol

His ammunition, guess (his piss).

His accuracy uncanny,

His movement swift and neat,

He could hit a poodle in the eye

At a range of twenty feet.

Now life had been hard for Pete.

He’d never known his Dad

And every morsel he devoured

He fought for all he had.

He roamed around ol’ London

Until his feet were raw.

Fighting for his existence

And always evading the Law.

From Wembley down to Clapham

He roamed around quite free

‘Til captured down in Streatham

And taken to Battersea.

The kennel staff were wary

When Pete was around

And when they dared approach him

They wouldn’t make a sound.

For Pete was a crafty devil

And easily upset

And he’d cock his leg up

And squirt his deadly jet.



His aim was swift and deadly

No-one quite knew why.

Then a poor old kennel man

Would get one in the eye

Things became quite serious

Behind the Dogs’ Home door

And the kennel staff all threatened

To pack their bags and go.

The Super’, he was livid,

“I’ll cure the dirty sod!”

He then went out into the yard

With a lead and a four foot rod.

But Pete saw him coming,

Twas a matter of life or death

So he drank 2 pints of water

And then he held his breath.

The Super, looked around the yard,

His face was red with rage.

When suddenly Pete appeared

From behind a clump of sage.

“I’ve got you”, cried the Super’,

With his rod held high.

But Pete, he beat him to the draw

With a jet straight in his eye.

The Super’ toppled over

And lay prone upon the grass.

Then Pete trundled over

And bit him on the ass.

The Dogs’ Home staff just cringed with fright

Behind the office door.

They could see the poor Super’

Motionless on the floor.

Pete was strutting round him

At an aimless pace

And every time the Super’ moved

He’d piss right in his face.

The staff by now, were quite aware

That Pete was getting madder

And watched Pete run to the trough

To refill his empty bladder.

Back to the Super’ then he’d go

Other dogs he would ignore.

Then he’d piss all over the Super’

Lying helpless on the floor.

One of the first search dogs
UK Police Dog History

Cartoon Capers

A little spoof training

Visits away from training

Taking driving lessons at the now closed 'Guide Dog for the Blind School', Sherwood, Nottingham
UK Police Dog History - Nottinghamshire