Why phoning the police is a mug’s game

The other day, I got home to find that my door had been kicked in.  I had a quich mooch around, and soon sussed that nothing had been taken – it didn’t even look as if the burglar or whatever he was had searched the place.

Now, I wouldn’t normally have bothered calling in the police.  Nothing was missing.  And even if it had, I doubt I woulda involved the filth.  Me and them live parallel lives – the less we have to do with one another, the happier we are.  But in this case I had to call the pigs.  I live in a flat owned by a housing association, and they demand that all criminal damage be reported.  I have to give ’em a “crime number”, otherwise I gotta pay for repairs myself.  Ain’t life grand…

Anyway, I  belled the rozzers.  It wasn’t a 999-style emergencies, so I called their “standard” local number.  Now, in times gone past the cop shop had a normal phone number, and if you called them you got charged standard local rates.  But not any more you don’t!  It had a 0870-prefix, which meant I the call was gonna cost me my first-born son or some-such.  And it didn’t end there…

I got a recorded bint-voice, telling me that operators were all busy circle-jerking or something… then I got a ringing tone.  But I was being charged to listen to the ringing tone.  I was in a public phone box (I don’t have a landline telephone, and I’d rather be buggered by King Dong than call a 0870 number from my mobile…) and I was being charged while the fucking pig-phone was ringing!  This went on for maybe 5 or 10 minutes… if the housing association hadn’t insisted on me reporting this crap to the rozzers, I’d have hung up on the cocks, believe you me!!

Next time I gotta bell the old bill about a non-emergency matter, I’m gonna dial 999.  Yeah, yeah, it’s reserved for emergencies – so fucking what?  You think I got money to waste on this kinda bollocks?  Think again, limpdick!!!


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