By VennerRoad, 21st Feb 2017
If you thought the Keystone Kops were a comedy outfit from the age of silent films, think again.
The Keystone Kops
In the 1950s and 60s, the British police had a safe if sordid way of making their own work. They would hang around in public toilets, those frequented by homosexuals, and smile as they stood at the urinal. On occasion this would snare a big fish; in 1953, the actor Sir John Guilgud was arrested for importuning, the same year he was knighted. The American police are not averse to this sort of thing either, and in 1998 George Michael was infamously ensnared by a member of the “pretty police”.
The legalisation of homosexuality in 1967 put a severe dent in the easy pickings of especially the Metropolitan Police, so instead they spent much time harassing the operators of pornographic bookshops and private cinema clubs. Documentation on this sort of thing can be found in the NCROPA papers.
The 1960s and 70s also saw users of recreational drugs being targeted, as well as young black men of a certain type who were perceived as being up to no good. With the rise of political correctness, they switched to harassing racists including the geriatric Nazi Colin Jordan who was subjected to years of harassment by the police in North Yorkshire for publishing a cartoon and a satire that would not have attracted the attention of the authorities in the United States where they would have been viewed as moderate, even tame.
Then, most astoundingly came the revelations of Mark Kennedy, an undercover police officer who spent years working inside the eco-movement monitoring low level criminal damage and acts of civil disobedience, that’s when he wasn’t bedding airhead women who thought he was a real cool dude. If this sounds far removed from real policing that is because real policing would entail chasing real criminals who might be armed and shoot back; far better to take the soft option.
The coming of age of social media has provided rich pickings for these imbeciles, now all it takes is some woman with a grievance to claim she has been harassed on Twitter for plod to roll into action trampling all over people’s houses in their size elevens on dawn raids, seizing desktops, laptops and mobile phones, but there is even worse to come because these same imbeciles who masquerade as police officers – this time in plain clothes – have gone one better by trawling the imaginary crimes of dead men, including at least one former prime minister. Edward Heath was an anomaly, a single man who rose to hold the highest office in England. Because he was then single and indeed never married, that could mean only one thing, even though he could never have become Leader of the Conservative Party in 1965 when homosexuality was still illegal, much less have defeated Harold Wilson in the 1970 General Election.
With the media frenzy over the then recently deceased Jimmy Savile and the witch-hunt of celebrities including Cliff Richard, the police also turned their attentions to the investigation of a VIP paedophile ring that was said to have operated at the heart of the Westminster establishment.
They spent two years chasing this chimera at the instigation of attention seekers and outright lunatics, eventually being humiliated by one of its alleged members, Harvey Proctor. Alas, while Mr Proctor is very much alive and kicking, dead men cannot defend themselves, with no less an officer than the Chief Constable of Wiltshire declaring that he is 120% certain Heath was a paedophile. Clearly his mathematics are even weaker than his nous. Aren’t police officers supposed to exhibit a little skepticism now and then?
Serial killer Stephen Port.
It may just be this sort of attitude that allowed Stephen Port to murder four men when he might have been stopped after claiming two victims or even one. This was the claim made by a recent BBC documentary. Port murdered his first victim in June 2014. Anthony Walgate was lured to his apartment on the pretext of easy money then killed with an overdose of gamma-Hydroxybutyric acid. Port dumped the victim’s body outside his building then reported finding a drunk or medical emergency.
Wisdom in hindsight is a wonderful thing, but the circumstances of the first murder, and the striking similarity of the second in the same area a relatively short time later should have alerted them to the fact that something was seriously wrong here. Anthony Walgate’s mother refused to accept that her son’s death had not been suspicious, and suggested they track his movements from his mobile phone. She was told the cost was prohibitive. Unreal.
But for members of the public, Port could still be murdering men in East London now. The police were contacted by someone who claimed he had met Walgate through a website. When confronted with this information, Port admitted this was true but claimed the dead man had overdosed accidentally while administering the drug to himself. He was given a short prison sentence for perverting the course of justice, but before going to court and only two months after his first kill, he murdered Gabriel Kovari and dumped his body in a graveyard about half a mile away. The following month, victim number three was found in similar circumstances complete with fake suicide note.
All this would be laughable if it were not so tragic; Miss Marple could have done a better job, indeed she has when it comes to investigating imaginary historical sex crimes. If you don’t find the foregoing disturbing, you should, because these are the people who are supposed to protect us not only from deranged serial killers like Stephen Port, but from terrorists, and as things stand, they are not doing a very good job of it.
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