Brian's Brief Encounters

This is an Unofficial Kaffe Fassett fanzine. Brought to you from a Leafy Suburb of the Throbbing Metropolis.

Thursday, December 15, 2005

The Polite & Orderly Act

Granny Brian (RIP) was never a navvy.

Consequently the conversations I had with her didn’t use the language found in most of today’s urban music. In fact we even had to stop discussing Cliff Richard after he sang about satisfying his Living Doll. Yet our weekly knit-a-thons were never conducted in silence.

To the soothing muzak of clacking needles and The Archers we managed to talk about all manner of things without the need to raise our voices, blaspheme or mention slapping our bitches up. Even when the topics being discussed were of a controversial nature; like the rough boys she sometimes saw in the village or the courting young maiden next door who was obviously in turmoil over which of her many suitors was the right one to take her up the aisle.

Almost twenty years ago the policy makers of the day saw fit to protect Granny Brian from having to witness anything stronger than a “blimey” whilst out visiting the local greengrocer when they passed the Public Order Act. I’m not sure this legislation was meant to prevent Ian and Adam from having a snog on Radio 4, which would not have been welcome in Granny Brian’s parlour. But, it should assist us in dealing with the rough boys on the village green.

We never did get to chat about the gradual breakdown of the nuclear family unit and the decreasing respect for anything remotely resembling authority. She popped her clogs around the same time we started reading the opinions of men in white vans in national newspapers being touted as representative of the populist view. I don’t think she would have agreed with most of them.

If Granny Brian had had a column in a tabloid I feel sure she wouldn’t have blamed the government, the teachers, the Police, video games, satellite TV, violent films or Snoop Dogg. No, it would have been a very short article. She would have blamed it on swearing and the parents.

The Public Order Act does not permit us to do anything about parenting skills. It does give us the power to address Granny Brian’s other concern though. Now, I’ll have to fess up here. I know one or two rude words and I’ve been known to utter them on occasion. They’re usually confined to occasions when I strike my digits with blunt objects, watching the TV news or when people ask me stupid questions. Don’t tell Granny though.

Included among the list of people I wouldn’t swear at/in front of are teachers, grannies and people I’ve never met before. Unless they’re the ones asking me stupid questions, I wouldn’t swear at Police officers either. I think I’m in the minority though.

Well I must be for I’m often subjected to crude language whilst at work. Some of it is even quite spiteful. I find myself routinely having to ask people I’ve only just met to refrain from using it. In the majority of cases it has a very calming effect as they then have to think about what they want to say, which usually means they stop shouting. I would recommend any new officer trying it out.

Of course you do get the odd person who has a hearing malfunction. In which case your recollection of the relevant section(s) of the act will be tested and you may need to issue a warning. Don’t delay; they need to understand they’ve reached the limit. Sometimes they can’t overcome their defective listening skills and then exceed the limit.

At this point you’ll need to make Granny Brian proud of you.

Nick the ****.

4 Comments:

At 15/12/05 5:50 PM, Blogger John said...

Many a weekend night I've warned drunken young men (and women) to moderate their foul language, to avoid upsetting the delicate sensibilities of other drunken young men and women.

Quite often, the reply goes along the lines of "F*** off you c***, you can't f***ing arrest me for f***ing swearing (edited in case Brian's granny has access to the Ethernet).

This response results in a short walk to the waiting van and a night in the cells. It always reminds me of pantomime - because I can't resist saying "Oh yes I can!"

 
At 16/12/05 12:59 AM, Blogger blacksanction said...

yes I too am having flash backs to my younger years when I used to walk the beat.
i would approach the boisterous and speak a quiet warning to him and arrange for a patrol car to attend. The young lad would usually contravene my friendly advice just at about the same time that the car arrive on scene. Imagine his surprise while acting the fool he is quickly hand cuffed and set off for a night in jail. We had it down to a science so much that the rest of the clowns got the msg not to be pissing about when we walked the beat.

 
At 17/12/05 12:31 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

But is it me or are the young "ladies" (and I use the term in it's loosest possible sense, quite fitting if you think about the little darlings I'm describing) able to utter such unadulterated streams of filth that from time to time even their equally innebriated and otherwise foul mouthed menfriends are stunned into blinking, shocked silence? My favourite so far is " I hope you catch cancer and f*****g die you f*****g fat c**t, and I hope your missus f*****g dies of it too, it'll serve the c**t right for marrying a fat f*****g pig like you"
She was 15.

 
At 18/12/05 7:07 PM, Anonymous Andy said...

I think I'd actually be stunned into silence (not an easy thing to do) if someone said that to me!!

 

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