A slow week, so I thought I'd dig out something that I wrote a couple of years ago, pre-blog, that is still relevant in these days of terror.
August 2005:
In his stand up days, writer John Dowie commented that he preferred cats to dogs because you'd never get a cat joining the police force.
This is amusing, but unfair on our canine companions as they don't have too much say in it, as they, like their feline adversaries are just ANYONE'S for tinned food.
The British Police favour two breeds of dog:
The German Shepherd, an all purpose assault dog.
The Springer Spaniel, sniffer dog.
The German Shepherd is the perfect animal for the police mindset, it's ferociously, even pyschopathically loyal to its handler, and views everyone out of uniform as a target. It doesn't do polite, and sees itself as just getting the job done. Sometimes people get hurt.
All in a days work.
The Springer Spaniel on the other hand seems to be off-message when it comes to its role as Police Dog.
Firstly, the average Springer is permanently in a state of tongue-lolling tail-spinning over-excitement that would give a Sunny Delight imbibed three-year old a run for its money.
Secondly, it loves everybody unconditionally, like a born-again Christian on E.
Discipline? What's that when it's at home?
I make this observation, as there is a considerable visible presence of these furry law-enforcers at the entrances of tube stations across the capital at the moment, as the olfactory arm of the war on terror. They are strategically, yet unsubtly, led by their handlers across the concourse towards all-too-suspecting commuters, to whiff the air on the off-chance that someone may be carrying a compound of the loud stuff.
Actually, like the rest of the police presence, the dogs are there chiefly as a visibility exercise, a warning to those that MAY try it on that they could get caught.
Which brings me to my point regarding the Springer Spaniel as Police Dog.
Last evening, at around 21.00 hrs, I was entering Holborn Underground Station, when my progress was blocked by a fat woman, who was crouching over in order to SMOOTH a highly animated Springer who was standing on his hind legs, tail whirling, with his front paws on her arm; LICKING HER FACE! And the handler (equally overweight) just stood there making amused small talk!
What sort of message does that throw out to the forces of evil?
(Unless, of course, it is assumed that a real baddie would rebuff the dog's advance with a cruel blow from a leather clad hand, thus identifying him as a wrong 'un.
Hmmm, maybe I've been mistaken, maybe the subtle approach WILL work.)
However, I do not forget the time in 1989, on arrival at Bournemouth v. Manchester Utd, (FA Cup 4th Round) and the huge police presence, typical at football in Thatcher's Eighties. There were a lot of German Shepherds, restlessly lining the streets around the ground. One young lad, clearly impressed at the sight left his father's side and approached a dog, hand-first. There was one of those collective intake of breath moments as the dog leaped viciously at the child, with handler in tow, and there was a palpable CHOP! of the dog's fangs as his jaw closed inches short of the youngsters little outstretched fingers.
As the father bundled the boy away, and fans shouted belated warnings to the frightened kid, the handler merely reigned the frothing animal in to heel, once more standing to attention.
He said nothing, neither apology, nor explanation ("never apologise, never explain" W. Churchill), he just resumed his duties.
Now THAT would give radical islam something to think about. Would it be possible to enter paradise with a domestic wolf attached to your balls?
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