On Thursday 22nd December, I went for a Christmas drink with my son and my ex-wife. We had a pleasant night, other than a brief, unsavoury incident when this bloke confronted me as I went to get the beers in. I knew him instantly and, despite his domineering and provocative behaviour, I didn’t rise to his bait; I’ve never hit anyone in my life and never will. Instead I retook my seat with the family and thought no more of this unfortunate episode. He did though.
On
Friday 23rd December, he made an allegation against me to
Northumbria Police that I had behaved in a way that could be construed by a
reasonable person as being “threatening and intimidatory” to the extent that he
was fearful for his safety. Of course, this claim was errant nonsense, as I
said to Northumbria Police Constable 2838 who phoned me on Monday 16th
January to discuss the matter. Unfortunately, Northumbria Police are rather
keen to ask “how high?” when this particular complainant asks them to jump,
rather than counselling him as to the folly of wasting precious police
resources on mendacious trivialities.
In
all honesty, it is my belief that Northumbria Police have demonstrated a
relentlessly oppressive and prejudicial course of action towards me over a
number of years now. They have been extremely zealous in their willingness to
adopt the role of institutional “muscle” in support of one individual who has
conducted a campaign of vilification against me. As yet, I’m unable to prove
conclusively why Northumbria Police have repeatedly been so keen to
unhesitatingly accept my litigious bete
noir’s account of events. Then again, perhaps there is another explanation,
far closer to home that may or may not be known to the bona drag muscleheads
who hang off the complainant’s every whim and word, as he makes his fortune in
the world.
The
statement he gave on 23rd December was the fourth time I know of
that he’s made a formal complaint against me to the police. As a result, on
each occasion I’ve been forced to endure the kind of swaggering, brutal
policing that wouldn’t be out of place in 1970s Buenos Aires. In 2012, I twice
dealt with phone calls from wannabe tough guys, doing their best Jack Reagan
impersonation and in 2013; some bright boy flatty with a lap top came round and
made me sign something to say I’d never engage the complainant in any form of
communication, electronic or spoken, ever again. I had no bother with this, as
the complainant isn’t someone I have anything in common with, having seen the
true nature of his personality when he physically attacked a local radio
journalist in a charity 5 a side competition, then took to social media to
snipe at those who’d organised the thing, for daring to call him out for his
bullying behaviour in summer 2012. His initial whinge to Northumbria Police,
implausibly enough, was that I’d got his name wrong, which I still don’t
believe is an arrestable offence.
Now
in contrast, whenever I’ve had cause to ask for the help of the police, the
response has been considerably less than adequate. In December 2013, I was
mugged on the Metro between Wallsend and Hadrian Road, where the attackers
escaped. I pulled the emergency brake and the cops came. Unsurprisingly, the
CCTV on the train didn’t work and the cameras at both stations missed taking
any images of the 3 of them who jumped me. Case closed; unsolved. Shoulders
shrugged; I was left to deal with it. In May 2015, outraged by the Greville
Janner case, I finally plucked up the courage to report my mother for the years
of sexual abuse I’d suffered as a child. I didn’t do this simply for my own
sake, but for other potential victims. However, despite having clear evidence
of my mother and sister’s extremely close relationship with a notorious
resident of Dolphin Square, who boasts of being a worldwide authority on Lewis
Carroll, nothing came of my statement. Seems abundantly clear to me that some
families get better protection than others from the constabulary; looks like
I’m not inside the tent. Indeed when my sister was finally warned as to her
conduct towards me by Northumbria Police, I rather feel it was more a case of a
word to the wise from another one of the gang from around the camp fire, than a
case of helping a victim. The police in Newcastle and North Tyneside simply do
not respond with any degree of professionalism when I require their assistance;
am I paranoid or are they incompetent? Or worse; corrupt? It’s up to you to
decide.
In
July 2015, with the assistance of two friends, I sought help from the
Northumbria Police football intelligence unit, hoping they would intervene to
staunch a concerted campaign of vilification against me on social media, which
was being conducted by a onetime business associate of the serial complainant. The relentless torrent of personal abuse
stopped, though the guilty party did not apologise for his behaviour, much less
did he face any kind of official censure. In early 2016, I had 2 bicycles
stolen from the garden shed; while they were insured, officers made zero
realistic attempt to recover them. All of the above incidents, not to mention
an unsolved burglary in 1991 and an uninvestigated assault by a mentally ill
Leninist who broke my nose on Christmas Eve 1992, show Northumbria Police have
absolutely no interest in helping me and are firmly set on a course of action
that backs up the conduct of the complainant and his acolytes, temporary as
well as permanent.
The
chain of incidents following the complaint made on 23rd December
2016 was the worst of the lot. Ignoring the specious and spurious allegations
for a second, the lack of any corroborating statements or witnesses and the
indecent glee with which Northumbria Police pursued the case, it has to be
recognised that I was treated abominably. I really ought to have sued
Northumbria Police for wrongful arrest. From the aggressive and intimidating conduct
of the investigating officer on the phone on Monday 16th January,
she subsequently demonstrated absolutely zero empathy or emotional
intelligence. Therefore, the dawn raid that had her hammering on my door at
7.00am on Tuesday 17th January, arresting me and taking me into
custody for questioning, was perhaps predictable considering Northumbria
Police’s obsequious deference to the complainant.
During
the entire sorry incident of 17th January, the investigating officer
was barely in control of her temper and seemed ready to fly off the handle at
any second. In retrospect I am amazed she didn’t resort to either pepper spray
or a Taser on arresting me. I was actually fearful for my own safety as I
thought I was about to be physically attacked at any second. Perhaps this is
why another officer, who didn’t identify himself, intervened at the station, as
any attack in that location (unlike in my house for instance) would have been
caught on CCTV.
For
the whole of my dealings with Northumbria Police, it seems fairly obvious they
have been on a power trip that shows just what heinous forms of persecution the
police are actually capable of in these post democratic times. They aren’t
interested in upholding the law; all they care about is breaking the will of
those they see as irritants. I have been belittled, treated with contempt and
humiliated constantly; such a disproportionate and excessive response has
confirmed their wish to obey the instructions of the complainant when it comes
to me, for whatever reason. Not only that, the way they closed ranks after I
made a complaint about my wrongful arrest on the day itself, shows just how
keen they were to cover the investigating officer’s back after it became clear
just how badly she’d messed up.
When
in custody, being referred to as “mate” or “Ian,” rather than by my title is
just another insidious example of how the police belittle those they have
contact with, where guilt rather than innocence is assumed. It satisfies the
lust for power of the uniformed ranks that they can take out their power
fantasies on the weak and the helpless; in this respect the police are similar
to Militant or religious sects. The behaviour of the search team at Forth Banks
was utterly appalling and totally unnecessary; never before have had I to
suffer such invasive and personally humiliating close contact. The length of
time I was left in a cell, denied paper, pens, food and access to legal
assistance, was calculated to destroy my spirit. I did not need to be arrested
in the first place as I had arranged to come down to Forth Banks to give a
statement on 20th January; however, the investigating officer was
probably taking orders from the complainant regarding case management.
The
reason why Northumbria Police are so despised by the average citizen is because
of the way they conduct themselves in matters such as this. It’s all about
power trips. It’s all about social control.
The strategy they employ, often at the behest of their benefactors,
involves harassment, persecution and intimidation of those who do not
unthinkingly obey them, or pay tribute. Northumbria Police deny the right to
freedom of speech; they violate human rights and degrade those who oppose them.
I will not allow them to persecute me any longer. They may think the
announcement of 21st February that no further action will be taken
against me, unsurprising as I did nothing wrong, will bring this matter to a
close. They are gravely mistaken.
Did
I ever tell you about the time Vera Baird’s dog bit me up the arse?
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