Nice Speedos, Sarge
The news buzzing around the Greek newspapers and info sites at the moment is all to do with holiday-wear. The headline at Keep Talking Greece, for example, reads: “Economic police in shorts and swimsuits to combat tax evasion on Greek islands.”
Now then, I think we’re talking about those who police the economy, rather than low-cost men in blue, but they are, it seems, called ‘economic police’, so that’s fair enough. I have nothing against men in uniform, far from it, and the thought of a policeman in a swimsuit, well now, there’s a thing. ‘Carry On’ jokes about truncheons come to mind, and I won’t mention helmets, but I do wonder where they will keep their warrant cards. Perhaps they will be going for the shorts look, as suggested in the article. Read the full article here.
It does make me wonder what the scene would be in the British Police Force should the same kind of measures ever be taken. I assume it’s still called a ‘force’ is it? It hasn’t become all PC and right-on and changed its name to ‘The Citizen Assistant Service’ or something naff like that has it? Let’s say a new department is set up, The TE Squad, that’s tax evasion to you and me…
The top brass comes in wearing flip-flops, a dayglo lime t-shirt and some startlingly revealing Speedos…
‘Right lads, today we’re targeting Bournemouth. PC Stander, PC Mullins, I want you in La Perla Sunlight swimshorts all day. None of that nipping off to get changed into your sarongs. We’re not the bloomin’ Fraud Squad.’
‘Yes, Sarge.’
‘WPCs Paggly and Racey, the Dolce and Gabbana is working, but you still need to bring out the, er, upper storey. Maybe get some cleavage shine. PC Williams can lend you his.’
‘Yes, Sarge.’
‘No, no, Fletcher, this ain’t Baywatch! We are the British Tax Evasion Squad. We don’t wear orange one-piece bathing costumes that push out the boobs like that and shape us into a very obvious V pointing down to your, you know, whistle. We’re Brits, and you’re a bloke, so you shouldn’t be wearing a woman’s one-piece in the first place. Oh, sorry. Yes, of course I respect your right to wear women’s clothing. Hell, we’ve lived it with at the station for long enough. (Aside: Dorothy Perkins, more like.) Alright, you can wear it. But shave before you go out.’
‘Yes, Sarge.’
‘Now then, the chippie on the prom. Been dodging tax for years, now’s our chance to nab ’em. It’s gonna be a sting. Hang on. Where’s the rookie? PC Gunman?’
‘Yes, Sarge?’
‘Hate to say it, lad, but you’re getting a bit too big for your boots. That is, you’re getting too big for your Boots’ Summer-thong line with minimal pouch. Want to find something baggy? What? (Listens.) Yeah, I’ve seen what the Greeks are doing, but this is Bournemouth, not Mykonos.’
‘Right, Sarge.’
‘Chip shop, yeah. Stander, Mullins? You’ll be on topless patrol so watch out for hot fat. PC Stabbings? You’re too fat for Versace. They’ll smell a rat a mile off. We have to blend in people! Questions?’
He listens to a few.
‘Right, Mullins. No, flippers and a mask is not a subtle disguise. You’re kind of missing the point of the blending in, ain’t you? Stabbings? Yes, look normal. You’re a dad on a day out at the beach, the kids are waiting, and you’re bringing the stuff from the car when you want a tea at the café. That’s it. Simple. Go see Smith in props for your pushchair, three beach bags, four ice creams, a pack of baby wipes, the picknick hamper, five towels and the sandwich toaster, alright? Look natural. And, lastly, Gunman, what was it? Oh yeah. No need to accessorise. You’re not really going to the beach. You’re going to catch tax evaders. Got it? Yes, what is it, Mullins?’ (He listens.) ‘Mullins, I would love to tell you where to stick your warrant card, but you’ll just have to improvise. Okay? For *$&@’s sake, PC Studly! This ain’t Brighton, put some bleedin’ clothes on. Thank you. Right. Everyone got sunblock on? Yes, I know it’s Bournemouth, Paggly, but stranger things have happened. Right, now who’s gonna do my back?’
And so on. But, seriously, police in disguise is the way it’s going. It will worry black-market businesses into declaring taxable income for the good of the country.
Ps, if you like a comedy read, don’t forget to pick up a copy of my comedy novel, ‘Remotely’ right here.
