The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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Location: Kilcullen (Phone 087 7790766), County Kildare, Ireland

Friday, April 15, 2011

how corrupt is the irish police force

April sun on the city of Dublin.
Me sitting in the new Costa cafe on Dawson Street.
There are no Arab Muslim waiters on the staff so customers are not yet being racially profiled.
It's a relaxing place to be.
I revel in the cacaphonies.
Abruptly my peace is shattered.
Cousin Bill arrives and thrusts a newspaper article in front of me.
"Read that," he exclaims. "You're always giving out about the Guards."
Bill's comment relates to my much vaunted analysis of the recurrently thuggish behaviour of members of the Irish police force. Irish cops style themselves An Garda Siochana, and are often referred to colloquially by Irish citizens as "the Guards," "the Garda," or "those corrupt b--------s."
In my considered opinion the Irish police force is indeed individually and institutionally corrupt.
Not just institutionally corrupt you understand.
Individually corrupt also.
Because I hold ever individual Guard responsible for every individual rape, violation, assault and death in custody (Garda euphemism for murders committed by Guards) that he or she commits or covers up or turns a blind eye to.
They're all guilty.
But I digress.
Let us return to our sheep as the Russians say. (The French say it too. - Francois Sarkozy note.)
Bill watches as I read the Daily Mail arteekle.
It is headlined "Hero Cop."
Aren't they all?
I read fascinatedly of a Garda Seargent who has just been awarded a hundred thousand dollar payout for getting stabbed while on duty.
Presumably the Irish government will borrow that money to pay him from an idiot bank because no one else in the country has a bean.
I read the arteekle again to see if I have correctly understood.
Yes.
The gist of it is that Garda Hardman is being paid an extra hundred grand for doing the job he is already excessively remunerated to do.
That should bring his annual earnings for this year to something over a quarter of a million bucks.
The arteekle doesn't mention that particular fact of course.
Bloody hell.
Cousin Bill watches my face.
"There," he said. "That's why they're so well paid. And they're not all corrupt."
I fold the newspaper with what grace I can, and hand it back to him.
"The guy who's supposed to have stabbed him is dead," I said slowly.
"Serve him right,." said Cousin Bill.
"The Guards claim the guy stabbbed Sergeant Hardman and then pressed himself against two of his own knives. The Guards claim that he was somehow holding the knives to press against his own chest outwards from a wall. The Guards claim he managed to stab himself twice through the chest using this most unlikely method," I murmured.
"He must have been a right nut case," put in Bill affably.
"Some psychologists think it's almost impossible to stab yourself," I said softly. "The self preservation instinct kicks in. The mind tends to refuse to go through with it. I sure hope there were other witnesses to Sergeant Hardman being stabbed and to his supposed assailant stabbing himself to death. I mean I sure hope there were other witnesses who weren't Guards."

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