With police called in to enforce the coronavirus lockdown, there are already numerous instances of enthusiastic cops rebuking those not taking the new rules seriously.
Social media is ablaze with drone footage of the rozzers snaring dangerous dog walkers, people loitering with intent to sunbathe and even one Labour MP, Stephen Kinnock, rebuked for taking his dad a birthday cake.
There is a point to this. The publicity helps reinforce the message to take the lockdown seriously. Nonetheless, some forces seem a tad zealous with their new power. On the upside, it could make for some cracking new crime fiction.
The scene: Oxford. A grizzled cop pulls up in a vintage Jag.
Ah, Morse, you took your time.
Sorry sir, I was checking for pubs that were open in defiance of the regulations.
Find any?
Sadly not. So what’s the story?
Punters.
What are the punters doing?
Well punting, you pillock. What do you think?
I see, sorry sir, you meant it literally. What’s happened to these punters? Have they found a body? A headless corpse by the Magdalen Bridge perhaps?
No Morse, nothing like that.
Well, what then?
They are punting. It’s not an essential activity.
Are they on their own?
Yes, but that’s not the point . . .
I’m homicide, sir; don’t we have constables for this kind of thing?
This is a national crisis. It’s all hands to the punt. They could be spreading the virus. This is virtually attempted murder.
It sounds more like attempted boating, sir. (Sighs.) OK, who reported it?
No one. Our drones caught them. We scrambled a helicopter but the bastards escaped.
If they were on their own sir, is it that big a deal?
Take this seriously. It might be a gang. There could be conspiracy to punt. We’ve got to find them. You’re an Oxford man, use your knowledge, visit a stately home first, climb up a church spire.
Can’t we just go to the boat house?
No, we’d never get a two-hour drama out of that. Oh and get down to the Turl, there’s a shop selling inessential Easter eggs.
Easter eggs! You should scramble all units. If you need me, I’ll be at home with Lohengrin.
I’ve told you Morse, you’re meant to be self-isolating.
Line of Duty’s Superintendent Hastings is talking to colleagues:
So we now have clear evidence of people driving to walk their dogs.
Sir, what if these dog walkers are some of our own?
What do you mean, fella?
We think these dog walkers could be cops.
Mother of God, bent coppers.
Yes sir, dog walkers in the highest levels of the force, that’s why they always seem to know when we’ve got the drones up.
Does the Assistant Chief Commissioner know?
We think he’s one of them sir. Do you not recognise this gilet?
We’re gonna have to get someone in under cover. Anyone here got a bichon frise?
The Sweeney arrive:
All right Kinnock, you’re nicked. We’ve got you bang to rights.
Who grassed?
You did you muppet, you tweeted out a picture of yourself with your parents, who we happen to know do not live at your home address. You visited your dad and took him a birthday cake.
It wasn’t like that, guv. I was taking round essential supplies and also took a cake for his birthday. Have a heart. I stayed well back from them.
You’re breaking my heart Kinnock. You’re going down for this. You could get five years, or perhaps a £30 fine. Unless . . .
Unless what?
Tell us who baked the cake and we might be prepared to look the other way this one time.
Second cop: give me five minutes alone with him, boss, he’ll crack.
Why do you care who baked it?
We’re running low on flour. We could use the name of your supplier.
Follow Robert on Twitter @robertshrimsley and email him at robert.shrimsley@ft.com
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