I bumped into a retired CID officer recently and he was talking to me about his early days in the Met back in the 1970s. As a novice 'woodentop', he'd been attached to a sleepy suburban nick, where crime rarely intruded on the working day. First thing in the morning, the officers would arrive for parade and would be allocated their tasks. One guy would be sent for bacon, a second for eggs and a third to get a loaf of bread.
I've now studied the Special Constable poster in more detail (see blogs passim ) and can reveal the idea is even more complex and bizarre than I first thought. You'll recall that a Special is on some seedy looking street corner, just yards away from where a drug deal is in progress. He's keenly observing events and looks ready to take some kind of action. The copy says that Specials wear uniform and always have back-up. But this guy is on his own in plain clothes. Worrying. Perhaps he's off duty but just can't leave the policing thing alone? Once a part-time copper, always a part-time copper. But wait. There is back up. It comes in the form of the constable's own reflection in a puddle. If he took his eyes off the criminal activity for just a second and took the trouble to look down at his feet, he'd see that in Puddle Land, he is wearing a uniform and carrying a radio. There's enough material here to fill a semiotics seminar for a day. If I disco...
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