The Police & I
Mum always told me police are to be trusted
We pay their wages
We’re their bosses
They’re there for us
To care for us
So whenever I forgot my watch
I asked them the time
Wouldn’t think twice about
Stepping out of line
I wouldn’t even so much as dodge a train
Or cross a road without looking both ways
But I’d still start feeling guilty if a police car crawled past
But it’s all part and parcel
Of being protected
Because authority is there to be respected
A few years later I get into punk
I haven’t read the books
But I got the look down pat
I put CDs on for my mates:
“Listen to that”
From the speakers we listen as someone shouts:
“All
coppers
are
bastards!”
And I agree
Because it fits perfectly
With my out of tune fury
Something’s felt wrong for a while now
The closer the adult world gets
The less great it seems
And the coppers
Are just a mixture of ‘proper’ jobs and authority
That I wanna avoid
And don’t quite know why
But it all sounded pretty cool
Comforted by people who broke the rules
That I didn’t dare bare to even glance at
Fast forward to a little bit more education later:
Armed with a degree
I wander the streets
While others march for something
That I still don’t quite understand
And I’m a little bit angrier
And a little bit more focussed
But still thinking, chewing things over
And regret rises slowly
At not reading more at uni
But there’s been so many punk gigs
To take the place of those writings
At every single one my heart untightened
For a few precious hours I forgot to be frightened
As I shouted along at someone else shouting:
“All
coppers
are
bastards!”
Then
Jean Charles De Menezes was shot seven times in the back of the head
.
And then:
April 1st 2009
G20
Kettling
Confusion
Smashing glass
Snapping cameras
Rivers of piss
Scarves over faces
A copper’s blank eyes
My friend’s leg battered
One man dead
I feel my diplomacy die
Bit by bit
Then one day
I was wandering back from the pub with a friend
Taking the short cut through a council estate
In Stoke Newington
And we hear shouts and cries
And then we see ten white coppers
Getting stuck into four or five black guys
Dunno what’s it about
Could be drugs
Could be guns
Or maybe just bored uniforms looking for kicks
They’ve got their sticks out
Threatening, challenging all on-comers
We stand on the fringe and cringe
I get flashes of that movie Do The Right Thing
We ask what’s up
And immediately we get their backs up
A plainclothes guy screams in my face:
“BACK OFF
BACK OFF
BACK OFF”
I ask him to calm down
But get the same response
Just orders, no listening, no rationale
And then I look to my side and my friend’s not there
Because she’s just been shoved down some stairs
By a cop who’s got at least a foot on her
And the rest happens in a speechless blur
I help her up
And we move back a bit
To stand and watch
A flurry of black and white skin
And blue and red lights
There’s a free cell tonight
And they’re gonna lock it
Then I remember the hash I’ve got in my pocket
I say to my friend, “We should fucking go”
But she wants to stay
And then a copper strides up to me
Grabs me by the back of the neck
And drags me round the corner
“What part of FUCK OFF don’t you understand?”
I try to mutter some calming words
But realise this guy probably isn’t in the mood
For an anger management session
He threatens me with arrest and then we leave
Fuming
Ranting
Impotent
Powerless
And it was that evening where my diplomacy
My sympathy
My pity for the police
Finally died
Because every one that gives you the time
In another situation will be on a different side
Baton raised
Prejudice burning their face
They’ve forced me into this place
And they can never say I didn’t give them a chance
But it’s too late now
There’s no turning back
So fuck the police
The pigs
The Bizzies
The Bobbies
The Babylon
Johnny Law
The scum
The rozzers
The Fuzz
The Feds
Whatever you care to call em
Because putting up with them
Is living in a lion’s den
Because with righteous rage
Comes confidence and pride
And now I can shout myself:
“All
coppers
are
(indeed)
bastards”
We pay their wages
We’re their bosses
They’re there for us
To care for us
So whenever I forgot my watch
I asked them the time
Wouldn’t think twice about
Stepping out of line
I wouldn’t even so much as dodge a train
Or cross a road without looking both ways
But I’d still start feeling guilty if a police car crawled past
But it’s all part and parcel
Of being protected
Because authority is there to be respected
A few years later I get into punk
I haven’t read the books
But I got the look down pat
I put CDs on for my mates:
“Listen to that”
From the speakers we listen as someone shouts:
“All
coppers
are
bastards!”
And I agree
Because it fits perfectly
With my out of tune fury
Something’s felt wrong for a while now
The closer the adult world gets
The less great it seems
And the coppers
Are just a mixture of ‘proper’ jobs and authority
That I wanna avoid
And don’t quite know why
But it all sounded pretty cool
Comforted by people who broke the rules
That I didn’t dare bare to even glance at
Fast forward to a little bit more education later:
Armed with a degree
I wander the streets
While others march for something
That I still don’t quite understand
And I’m a little bit angrier
And a little bit more focussed
But still thinking, chewing things over
And regret rises slowly
At not reading more at uni
But there’s been so many punk gigs
To take the place of those writings
At every single one my heart untightened
For a few precious hours I forgot to be frightened
As I shouted along at someone else shouting:
“All
coppers
are
bastards!”
Then
Jean Charles De Menezes was shot seven times in the back of the head
.
And then:
April 1st 2009
G20
Kettling
Confusion
Smashing glass
Snapping cameras
Rivers of piss
Scarves over faces
A copper’s blank eyes
My friend’s leg battered
One man dead
I feel my diplomacy die
Bit by bit
Then one day
I was wandering back from the pub with a friend
Taking the short cut through a council estate
In Stoke Newington
And we hear shouts and cries
And then we see ten white coppers
Getting stuck into four or five black guys
Dunno what’s it about
Could be drugs
Could be guns
Or maybe just bored uniforms looking for kicks
They’ve got their sticks out
Threatening, challenging all on-comers
We stand on the fringe and cringe
I get flashes of that movie Do The Right Thing
We ask what’s up
And immediately we get their backs up
A plainclothes guy screams in my face:
“BACK OFF
BACK OFF
BACK OFF”
I ask him to calm down
But get the same response
Just orders, no listening, no rationale
And then I look to my side and my friend’s not there
Because she’s just been shoved down some stairs
By a cop who’s got at least a foot on her
And the rest happens in a speechless blur
I help her up
And we move back a bit
To stand and watch
A flurry of black and white skin
And blue and red lights
There’s a free cell tonight
And they’re gonna lock it
Then I remember the hash I’ve got in my pocket
I say to my friend, “We should fucking go”
But she wants to stay
And then a copper strides up to me
Grabs me by the back of the neck
And drags me round the corner
“What part of FUCK OFF don’t you understand?”
I try to mutter some calming words
But realise this guy probably isn’t in the mood
For an anger management session
He threatens me with arrest and then we leave
Fuming
Ranting
Impotent
Powerless
And it was that evening where my diplomacy
My sympathy
My pity for the police
Finally died
Because every one that gives you the time
In another situation will be on a different side
Baton raised
Prejudice burning their face
They’ve forced me into this place
And they can never say I didn’t give them a chance
But it’s too late now
There’s no turning back
So fuck the police
The pigs
The Bizzies
The Bobbies
The Babylon
Johnny Law
The scum
The rozzers
The Fuzz
The Feds
Whatever you care to call em
Because putting up with them
Is living in a lion’s den
Because with righteous rage
Comes confidence and pride
And now I can shout myself:
“All
coppers
are
(indeed)
bastards”
Chris Dawson
Tue 30th Jun 2009 00:51
I don't agree really on two counts - first it's a sweeping statement with no basis in fact - either literally or figuratively. I agree that individually they can be 'nice' people but I don't think that 'instituationally they are an oppressive force' (sic).
They are public servants. If we educate those we expect to 'police' our country, train them properly, pay them commensurately, and treat them with some respect - I think we'd get the police force we wanted. All that can equally be said of teachers, medical staff, etc.
Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying we have a perfect police force - far from it, but I do agree with Isobel when she says that it is better - far better - than many others.
And the second reason - is because I like the poem and it deserves a better ending than an old cliché!
Cx