I’m Samurai, I am… I’m Superstar Ninja

Night-Night

Night’s have been and gone. The one shift I was made for. Once again it did not fail to amuse with a barely tolerant mix of excessive alcohol, and obnoxious behaviour from all in sundry. Traffic offences galore, reckless behaviour from many and more often than not discussions in raised tones of an inappropriate nature. Modern day policing, it’s tough but look at all the stuff we get away with!!

This week I have been mostly eating a mixture of sandwiches and cooked goods from my local food vending emporium that also happens to do a bit of a side trade in vehicular fuels. Alright! I’ve been getting my dinner from the petrol station.

Last night I successfully circumnavigated a chicken chow mein meal to move rather audaciously onto a thin crust pizza. The night previously I decided to partake of some chicken and stuffing sandwiches, salmon and cucumber sandwiches and some rather lovely Aloo Gobi. Unsurprisingly my best diet does seem to be situated during the most unsociable shift.

Blue tinted glasses

There was an incident on one night, which had already staggered into morning and was very close to being a call that early turn would have dealt with rather than us. An old gent had his maisonette broken into by a young man who lived downstairs who appeared to have serious mental health issues.

The behaviour of the man during his arrest echoed back to a teenage lad I had dealt with about a year previously.

We were called by his Granddad who had seen the boy, Geoff (for the purposes of this story) kick in everyone of the cars body panels. This is no mean feat as both Gaffa and I found out, as we walked around what was once a Rover 75. Granddad also mentioned that Geoff had mental health issues and hadn’t been taking his medication.

Now here was the first mistake Gaffa and I made, we both huddled up at the end of the driveway and decided, 1. Geoff was local, 2. Geoff was probably at an address we already had, 3. Another colleague could take a statement, 4. It would be a good body of work if we could process the guy within the shift.

The simple plans are always the best, until you try and execute them.

We tracked Geoff all over Kingston, as we haired from one address to another, in a convoy of two police cars and the van. We finally caught up with him (as always) at the first place we had looked. We were met by his flat mate who said he’d help us speak to Geoff, as after some checks, it became apparent that Geoff was in the elite group of those that have the platinum membership of warning signals.

We climbed the rickety old narrow staircase (uh-oh) to meet a door right on the corner of the staircase. The flatmate turned almost triumphantly to tell us “This is his! I’ll go in and tell him you’re here, that way he should be alright.” Gaffa and I exchanged a glance, and agreed that SEEMED the best course of action.

We both awaited the soft tones of a calming voice escaping through the slight crack the door had left where it didn’t meet the frame comfortably. How wrong we were. The voice that escaped was… like Brian Blessed on acid.

“GEOFF WHAT THE HELL YOU BEEN DOIN? THE POLICE ARE HERE. THEY’RE NOT HAPPY. YOU’RE GONA BE ARRESTED. GEOFF WHY’D YOU DO IT MAN? COME ON THE POLICE ARE RIGHT OUTSIDE NOW.”

Gaffa and I again exchanged a more worried glance, which then trailed down the staircase we were currently stood at the top of. We then had an Indiana Jones moment as we both attempted to find an anchoring point to hold onto, before the expected collapse of the bridge. To our relief, the door opened and out stepped flatmate and Geoff (who was wearing blue tinted specs).

Geoff was twitchy to say the least and continually eyed both Gaffa and I, which meant I was continually puffing my chest out to look more menacing than I ever actually could be. I was almost hyperventilating by the time we got back to the station.

Our initial thoughts, he seems fine.

Samurai Steaks

By this time it was near the end of the shift and it had already become apparent that this wasn't one of our best ideas. Things got worse when we discovered there was no space for Geoff at Kingston and we would have to intrude on a neighbour. We found (a kind of) solace at Wimbledon (where they do the tennis we lose).

As always there was a bit of wait so we stood chatting with Geoff. His behaviour was intriguing as his character seemed to turn on a penny. For short moments he would ask us to clarify why he was there and what it was he'd done again. He'd then revert to a hardcore version of who he assumed his self image to be.

Gaffa has been gifted with an extraordinary ability to talk to anyone. He didn't bat an eyelid as Geoff leapt from topic to topic. It took me a while but I settled into it, and we began to get on quite well despite the often surreal subject matter.

Geoff told us how, in his words, he was Samurai, he was Superstar Ninja, and he was double edged. For ten minutes he told us how he was essentially the harder big brother of Bruce Lee.

The conversation then moved onto steaks. Both Gaffa and I agreed we could do with a lovely steak, as we had missed breakfast and lunch at this point. Gaffa then said to Geoff, “I suppose you like your steak bloody and raw” to keep with his Samurai persona. There came the reply “No, I like it well done, blood makes me faint.”

Well you did ask Doc...

Once the usual rig moral involved with detainees was over, the doctor was called to see if he felt Geoff was in a fit medical state to stay with us. As Geoff was becoming more agitated, it was deemed necessary for an officer to stand in on the consultation.

Gaffa’s about 6’2” and has a foreboding presence about him. So they picked me.

The Doc asked the most ridiculous leading questions I have heard, and, to his credit, Geoff played him like a fool.

Doc; So Geoff, do you believe you have superpowers?
Geoff; Course I have, I’m Samurai.
Doc; Ok. What powers do you have?
Geoff; All of ‘em, I’m dragon Ninja ain’t I.
Doc; Ok Geoff. Do you have Superman’s powers?
Geoff; Yeah, I’m like Superman, hard man.
Doc; Right Geoff. And can you fly Geoff?
Geoff; Course I can, I’m Superman.
Doc; And Geoff, tell me, have you ever tried jumping off a building to fly?
Geoff; No. I’m not a phuking idiot.

Geoff, if my memory serves me correctly, was never dealt with regarding the incident. As it was deemed that he could not be held accountable due to the lax supervision in place to ensure he kept taking the medication that he had been prescribed.

I’m not certain where he is now, but the character he was, really shone. He seemed completely content. I don’t doubt the demons he carried pressed on his character, but from the glimpse we caught, he seemed to be living his life to how he enjoyed.

I’m not condoning his actions. But in a way, I was able to lift from him, an ideal that every once in a while everyone needs to learn to let go.