BOBBIES AND BISHOPS

Bobbies are never keen on making notes and will do the minimum if not at all to record an event. So I eyed that detailed & highly polished account of the “Pleb-gate”journal that appeared soon after the 19th September encounter with suspicion. Pure cunningly strewed “verbals”, I thought. Bits of the truth mixed skilfully with the embellished bits! The carefully crafted account of Andrew Mitchell’s run-in with the gate keepers had two goals; one to ‘goose’ the chief whip and the other to see him off if, as the script writers feared, this powerful peddle pushing minister decided to seek revenge against uppity gate-keeping Plods and ring the Commissioner. Surely not?

Now its clear which side the Commissioner is on; the troops of course, but the bobbies weren’t to know that! I can’t wait to find out the whole truth. Who decided to send the Ruislip email? Who worked on the wording? Didn’t they know that every email is traceable? Had they forgotten that CCTV was running and witnesses would be captured. “Mr Helpful Damning Emailer”, the officer who pretended to be at the scene has been “goosed” too by the gate-keepers. The police need a Christmas miracle to magic the one passer by caught on camera to push up the numbers who allegedly watched the drama unfold; needed to match the facts as shown in the police log. I bet the Permanent Secretary feels a real wally? I thought senior civil servants had a brain and could count!

Same old story repeats itself. The arrogance of believing the truth will never come out. The quashed convictions of the Hillsborough police fabricated lie, some 23 years on is a good example. The evidence that put Eddie Gilfoyle in prison for 17 year for a crime he did not commit has been exploding in the faces of several police forces, one being my own; Merseyside. Little by little like peeling an onion, the core of the corruption and conspiracy has been exposed. Lives ruined with justice denied for the 17 Gilfoyle wasted years and the 23 year wait for justice of the Hills borough’s victims. How dare that posh git who rides a girly bike, wears a pink tie and demands all the gates to be opened with a nod of that poufter hair cut, challenge the police. Andrew Mitchell’s career will be riding high soon again. And the careers of the officers who seemingly set about stitching him up? They will need a Christmas miracle too for sure to save theirs now! A custodial sentence must be a possibility in the New Year.

As the Cllr Heesom tribunal must surely come to an end in 2013 and no more excuses can be given to withhold those damning transcripts from police investigation my three year wait for justice too may be coming to an end. Another small but sad case of being shafted by lies on oath from the pen of a fellow councillor should be resolved if the police can be trusted to do what’s right. This is the problem. How on earth can we guarantee that?

Now for the Bishop.

Great excitement when the congregation turned up for Mass last Sunday. The Parish priest was laid low with a trapped nerve and we found no less a person than the new Bishop ready to step into the breach. Tall, urbane, and eloquent, he lit the 3rd Advent candle and off we went with a weighty homily geared for the arrival soon of the Child Jesus. As is the custom, he waited by the door and shook our hands. I think I over addressed him, giving him a more formal title that Bishop Peter as he gave me a hard stare. Perhaps he remembered that I was something to do with another parish that years ago was in turmoil. The Canon and his housekeeper had done so much damage to this Christian community, I moved down the hill to Queensferry to leave the stress and the hurt behind.

Even more excitement again today. Parish priest had put in fleeting appearance but the Bishop had arrived again to offer Mass. The church looked wonderful. The Christmas tree decked out and masses of red,white and gold flowers adorned the altars. A huge vase of lilies with pale green buds waiting to open guarded the pulpit. The Nativity figures were bedded on the straw awaiting the arrival of the crib. The Bishop’s homily was even more erudite and complex but he is a bishop and its good to hear a thorough provoking sermon and the last Advent candle was lit. One more to go: that reserved for Christmas Day Mass. Apart from a delay when a parishioner collapsed onto the shoulder of another, in a deep faint which demanded the services of an ambulance, the Mass drew to a somewhat delayed ending. The pink shade of the priest’s rope complimented the purple vestments of Advent.

Shaking his hand on the way out, I laid off the formal nomenclature. “Thank you for coming again,” I muttered. He looked pleased. “Its alright,” he murmured and I left with his command to do good works and spread the Gospel ringing in my ears.

I take this opportunity of wishing each one of you a peaceful and happy Christmas.

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