‘ENJOY the rest of your holiday’, said Det Insp Andrew Lockwood (no relation) of the Kirklees Kops on Monday morning, with no apparent sarcasm. Maybe it’s a Lockwood thing – we’re all generally sincere when the occasion demands.
He could be going places that lad – when I said I was in Croatia he’d replied “oh, I thought it was a foreign ring tone”. Poirot, eat your heart out.
Presumably as part of a belt-and-braces operation, a colleague of DI Lockwood had driven out to our family home in York on Sunday night to hand-deliver a letter to the same effect: No DNA match with MP Paula Sherriff’s litter lout, no further action – but reserving the right to change their mind if further evidence arises. They’ll have fingers crossed, I’m sure.
I can certainly understand that. Chief Supt Julie Sykes and her Keystones could trip up over a bloke in a black and white striped jumper, wearing a mask, with a bag marked ‘Swag’ over his shoulder, and still need a second bite of the cherry.
Where these people are involved, a third and even a fourth chance helps – rather like Chief Supt Sykes’s boss, West Yorkshire Chief Constable Dee Collins. According to journalist and justice campaigner Neil Wilby, Julie Sykes’s boss failed her sergeant’s exam four times but got the top job anyway, albeit in the face of massive competition.
(I made that up. According to Wilby, Collins was parachuted into the Chief Constable’s chair with no rival candidates. A shortlist of one, apparently. Someone with a mischievous mind – not I, obviously – might even suggest that goes some way towards explaining how Julie Sykes landed her plum position).
Anyway, we are where we are, which in my case is free, exonerated, bail dropped, in the clear. Carry on as as you were, Mr Lockwood, all is well in the world.
Except no. It isn’t.
A number of unanswered questions remain – why me, what were the other “sufficient grounds” to suspect my guilt that Sykes communicated to Miss Sherriff’s staff, and why the mass of armed police when I’d volunteered to attend the police station?
There’s one major concern too – forget me folks, because I’m old enough and ugly enough to handle this rubbish. But it could be you next, stitched up on no account. Any of you.
So even if I was minded to simply put it all behind me, as I’m sure Sykes and her command team wish, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I let the matter drop.
People are put through this kind of capricious, agenda-driven ordeal on a daily basis, based on the petty prejudices and whims of what I consider over-promoted and under-witted police officers.
As such, I sincerely hope and intend that Julie Sykes gets sick of the sight and sound of Lockwood.
I’ve taken legal advice, so step one is beginning the formal complaints process with the West Yorkshire force and the Independent Police Complaints Commission.
We’ll see where the journey takes us – but it really has only just started. As a Spanish toreador once reputedly said: “If you mess with the bull, don’t be surprised if you get a horn up your arse.”
PS: I made that up as well. I know, really naughty.
PPS: Can I just thank everyone for their kind messages of support, especially after I posted a Facebook Live update of the police decision to drop the case.
As a result I was inundated with ‘friend’ requests. No offence if I declined, but I generally keep my social media circle tight to people I know, or at least whom I have a lot of mutual ‘friends’ with.
I’ve been sabotaged in the past by people sneaking under the radar so forgive me being cautious – plus, photos of my holidays and the family dog aren’t all that exciting.
But thanks for the encouragement, one and all.
IT COMES to something when the Girl Guide movement is being torn apart over the latest transgender fascism.
Two women who run Brownie/Rainbow groups have been expelled because of their concerns over Girlguiding’s so-called equality and diversity policy. It’s shameful.
Would you want a crossdressing bloke with a 7 o’clock shadow and his big old size 12 plates of meat squeezed into ballet pumps calling himself Brown Owl and taking your five-year-old daughter to the toilet? I wouldn’t – but the Girl Guides think it’s cool.
And before the transphobe insults come raining down, this is nothing about sexuality or respecting how people choose to live their lives. It’s about safeguarding kids.
I’ll go further. A boy of six or seven who is sexually aware enough to want to define as a girl, obviously has issues that require sympathetic help. Thank goodness we now have a society enlightened enough as to provide it.
But in the fanatical age of neo-liberal ‘diversity’ the Girl Guides insist that youngster should not only be allowed to join, but share toilets, showers and tents with innocent children less sexually aware.
Do you conceivably think that’s right? Really? In which case, I think you’re the one who either needs help or needs watching.
Can I remind people of the days when former Labour ministers Patricia Hewitt and Harriett Harman championed causes like the Paedophile Information Exchange and allowing adults to have sex with children? Harman argued that child pornography shouldn’t be illegal unless it could be proven that the child was harmed. Yes, really.
Those were once thought of as liberal, enlightened times, too. Didn’t turn out very well though, did they?
Meanwhile, just up the road at HMP New Hall women’s prison in Flockton, they are coming to terms with the case of paedophile rapist David Thompson (aka Steven Wood) who was on remand for sex crimes when he bought a wig, some lippy, said “call me Karen White” and demanded a transfer to a women’s jail.
Give him a slap, you say? Course not – give him a transfer, more like! He attacked four women inmates within days.
Still, when 48% of so-called ‘trans’ prisoners are in for sex crimes to start with, what do you expect?
The world’s gone mad and apparently our children’s innocence is a price worth paying ... all in the name of diversity.
WE’RE a bit short on good TV comedy these days; it’s either panel shows with the same-old, same-old line-ups of hackneyed comedians, or repeats of James Corden.
Whatever happened to genius political satire like The Thick Of It, or Yes Minister?
I’m not sure where their writers went, but it clearly wasn’t into government public relations. I doubt they’d create a character as stupid as whoever advised Prime Minister Theresa May to enter the Tory Party conference to the strains of Abba’s Dancing Queen.
That was a good idea? Really? For a woman who dances like one of The Woodentops? (for younger readers think Parker from The Thunderbirds – pictured – and I can even see a facial resemblance ). May’s cringing entrance was too embarrassing to be remotely funny, like your gran flashing her knickers at a funeral after one too many sherries.
I would ordinarily feel desperately sorry for May, because the continual ridicule and loathing must take a mental and emotional toll.
But I can’t. She’s dug a hole so deep, it seems her only coping mechanism is to keep digging ever more furiously, hoping she actually surfaces in Australia. And even then I suspect they’d throw her out – probably without a trade deal.
I mean, she and her idiot advisers couldn’t even get the right Abba song to fit the occasion. Waterloo would have been entirely appropriate – no doubt ending up with with SOS.