Policing a teeming and vibrant city like London during a health emergency can be a challenging, and sometimes, a dangerous business.
Take last Saturday evening for example. The lads from my unit, along with myself, were relaxing in the canteen before going out on patrol in the West End to look for people flouting the lockdown regulations.
We then got a shout from upstairs that a bunch of anti-lockdown nutters had gathered outside St Thomas’ Hospital in Lambeth where they were giving a load of grief to the doctors and nurses coming off shift after a tough day on the covid wards.
We immediately deployed to the scene and laid into the protestors with our batons, leaving many of them unconscious on the deck.
We threw a few of these into the Thames to bring them round before setting off back to the wagons.
At this point, I realised I’d worked up a bit of a thirst, so I told the lads I’d see them back at the nick and broke into nearby Lambeth Palace where I got stuck into the Bishop of London’s booze cabinet until I spewed my ring up into the font and collapsed to the deck in a pool of my own piss and sick.
PC Ted is the vice-chancellor of the Severe Liver Damage and Projectile Vomiting Association