PC. Police constable
Quiff. A hairstyle favoured by teddy boys in the 60s in the uk which focused on leaving more on the top of the head but keeping the hair short elsewhere.
As before any resemblance to anything in this story and any persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
The team assembled in the canteen at 6 a.m. at the local police station, and Crusher was not happy.
“What sort of time do they call this?” thought Crusher. “I’m woken at 5 in the morning, yes, 5 in the morning, barely time to have a pee. Outrageous, I call it. No flipping consideration.”
With that, Crusher caught sight of Molly, the drugs dog. She was a Springer Spaniel—very tasty, he thought. He wouldn’t mind a close examination of her pedigree. Sadly, Crusher’s previous overtures had been met with a cool response. Molly, without doubt, was a class act, very professional, who had very little time for the amorous intentions of the likes of Crusher, who she thought was nothing more than a legalised thug totally lacking in manners and good breeding.
The Inspector leading the operation was giving details of the day’s operation.
“Today we are after some drug dealers. We will effect immediate entry by knocking the door off its hinges, we will be accompanied by Molly the drugs dog and at the rear of the building two officers will stop anybody from fleeing the scene along with Crusher who will deal with anyone who gets past them.”
He raised his head at the sound of his name and noticed that he was the source of everyone’s attention, and he knew why. His reputation preceded him. None of this bleeding heart nonsense or politically correct garbage for Crusher. He lived by two mantras.
Rule One: Don’t Break the Law.
Rule Two: Stop when Told.
“Simple enough, not rocket science. Well, you would have thought so, but the criminal fraternity was so stupid that they thought they could get away with anything.”
Crusher only had one weakness. Ladies. Crusher fell in love with any lady that stroked his tummy and he offered it regularly to any available female. His handler PC Sharon was used to this behaviour just as she was aware of his lustful inclinations toward the females of the canine species.
“Crusher, stop mooning over Molly, you randy sod.” Instructed PC Sharon. “Concentrate on the job.”
“I am concentrating on the job, but not the same job as you,” sighed Crusher as he gazed adoringly at Molly.
He wasn’t sure what set Molly apart, but it was probably the quiff hairstyle. Sexy or what?
The inspector continued addressing the team.
“We leave in one hour; take care; this lot can be violent.”
Crusher inwardly smiled. If there was one lot he enjoyed dealing with, it was violent criminals, giving them a taste of their own medicine.
“Sharon, a word, please.” Asked the Inspector
“Can you keep that demon dog of yours under strict control today? We are trying to arrest felons, not put them in hospital.”
Crusher glared at the Inspector. “Saints preserve us,” Thought Crusher. If I had my way, this sort of vile vermin should be flogged, never mind being tucked up in a nice, comfy bed in the hospital.”
“Mind you why they have to go to hospital l don’t know. They should go directly to jail, none of this passing go and collecting £200.”
Crusher had watched as Sharon and her friends played the game MONOPOLY. A concept that Crusher completely misunderstood.
“Why should you be able to avoid jail AND get £200.”
“I despair at the mentality of humans.” He mused.
Sharon smiled disarmingly and assured the Inspector that Crusher would be under control and would only be released if absolutely necessary.
“I’m delighted to hear it; you do know, of course, that the last five arrests that have involved Crusher have resulted in the victim being hospitalized.”
Crusher wanted to explode. VICTIMS!! They were villains and they ran from me. Ran… from me. Nobody does that. These despicable knuckleheads need to understand my rules, particularly rule two: Stop when Told!!
The team piled into the two vans transporting them to the address. Naturally, Crusher had his own vehicle. Quite rightly, of course, as far as Crusher was concerned.
“Let’s face it, who does all the work, me!! I’m the one who drags the scumbags to the ground, and do I get the credit that I deserve? No, just because they have to be taken to hospital. Typical of the criminal classes, they can dish it out but just can’t take it.”
On arrival at the house, Crusher was quietly led to the rear of the building to deal with any escapees. A loud crash signified the forced entry to the front of the house and sure enough the back door burst open and two men emerged, one was detained by the two policemen whilst the other one managed to evade the policemen’s clutches much to Crushers delight.
Pc Sharon shouted, “Stop, or I release the dog.”
Now Crusher had a system, he liked to give the villain a good head start and the reason was that he could cover the ground twice as fast as any human being thus giving him time to take an extra lump out of the offender before Sharon caught up and instructed him to let go. This of course had to be done out of sight of the mamby pamby liberal do-gooders who always sided with the miscreants.
Crusher hesitated before starting the chase, much to the chagrin of Sharon, who knew exactly what he was up to.
Crusher, who could reach speeds of up to 30 mph from a standing start, easily caught the reprobate and had time to deliver his mandatory retribution before the arrival of Sharon, who was weighed down by full kit.
“One up for the good guys.” thought Crusher. “That will teach the morally bankrupt, lowlife, drug dealer to stop when told.”
With the success of the operation PC Sharon and PC Gary, the handler of Molly, had time to give both dogs the chance to exercise in the local park. Molly who had previously rebuffed the carnal advances of Crusher was just beginning to be attracted to his bad boy reputation as the two enjoyed the natural courtship of their species which involved a great deal of sniffing of rear ends.
Both Sharon and Gary sat quietly enjoying the warmth of the sun and suddenly Sharon realised that Crusher was missing and Molly was out of sight as well. Where were they? With the fast rhythmic swaying of the nearby bushes came the realisation…..
“CRUSHER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE BUSHES!!?”
“My dog may be a handful but he’s my handful and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Anon
With subtitle or not?