I received a phone call today.
From the police.
It was regarding the incident last month when my number plates were nicked.
You see, I’m now classed as a “Victim Of Crime” and today’s call was a follow up from the support unit (or some such) to see if I was OK and hadn’t suffered further number plate thefts, or to see whether I was stressed and anxious over the original crime and needed support.
Which I’m not. But it was a nice thought.
Of course, in these days where everyone is measured in everything they do, this phone call had an ulterior motive: to find out if I was happy with how the police had dealt with my issue.
“Was there anything we could have done better?” asked the very nice man at the other end of the phone.
“Well yes, you could have stopped my number plates from being nicked in the first place”, I said in a slightly serious tone, “From now on, I’d like to see a policeman on every street corner, please, and two outside my house.”
His affable voice changed slightly and he gave a small nervous laugh, obviously not sure whether I was being serious or not. “Well, I’m not sure that we can…”
“It’s OK”, I interjected, “I’m only joking. I know that you can’t afford that level of policing… that would be ridiculous. Just the one policeman outside my house will do.”
“Erm, well, I think I have everything I need,” he said, ” Thank you for your time.” And he hung up.
Well, that’s me red flagged on their database then. Hope I never have to call 999.