The Off-Topic, insult, picture and everything else thread

metman wrote: »

Take care on wintry roads.....only in America :rolleyes:

Now that's a time to be on your meal break!

A Traffic Corpse Guard stops a man for speeding. Naturally, the hard-done-by taxpayer pleads his case. He explains how he has a clean licence, was only doing 102 in a 100 zone and that he's usually very careful and so on.

His excuses fall on deaf ears as the dutiful guard continues to write out the ticket.

"Well, thanks a lot, Guard. That's my job down the toilet"

"What exactly do you do, sonny?" asks the guard as he continues to write.

"I'm an arsehole manipulation engineer" replies the driver.

"What's that, then?"

"Well, you take an arsehole and gently ply and manipulate it to make it bigger and bigger. Some of our arseholes can be manipulated up to 6 feet!"

"And what the hell do you do with a 6 foot arsehole?" asks the guard.

The driver puts the car in gear, takes his ticket and replies "We send them to Templemore !"

Sifting through some old files in the bowels of Deadwood mansions, i came across some footage of a young Deadwood getting in shape for the urban warfare that lay ahead. Deadwood doesn't move with suchcat-like agility these days, but stil has some moves.
http://www.stupidvideos.com/video/stunts/Parkour_Champion_1/

CLADA wrote: »

ACCEPTANCE STAGE Years 16 - ????

I'm never showing anyone a picture of the wife and kids at this stage. It's a sure-fire way to get yourself killed!

I'm not going to work on my last day - that's when the psycho robs the bank as you queue to cash your last pay cheque.

And i'm not bringing home some rookie so he can throw a length into my daughter.

Deadwood unfolds his ungainly frame out of the Focus, having done a quick scan of the yard to notice the Supers car isn't around - always a good thing.

On entering the public office, he sees a new probationer busily texting his girlfriend while a young woman with a few passport forms waits patiently outside the hatch.
"Where's the.." Deadwood is about to enquire.
"Upstairs" clips the recruit.
"..uniform fitting. Thanks. In the.."
"Kitchen" interrupts the banbh, not even lifting his head.

Deadwoods knuckles whiten as he grabs the door handle. Approaching the stairs, he's about to bound up them three at a time when the reality of what he is about to attempt dawns on him and he places his hand on the railing to haul himself up slowly, one health and safety notice step after the other.

"Ah, Deadwood - the only time we see you here is when they're giving stuff away!" says a colleague, loaded down with office stationery pilfered from the store.

"How many highlight markers can one man need?" asks Deadwood squeezing past.

"Super's away so time to stock up. 3 in school, Deadwood - they go through this stuff like money grows on trees"

Deadwood knows the irony is lost on this man.

Approachng the kitchen a small queue has formed. "You always manage to find the kitcen, Deadwood!" says the 'drugs' guard who always makes sure the .38 is positioned to the front of his belt for maximum exposure. Deadwood is amazed at the ability of a plain clothes member to turn up for uniform fitting one day, while ripping the piss out of regular members every other.

"...and can we not get it in any other colour?" is heard from inside the kitchen. The Sergeant i/c jokes with the fitters, looking around for approval from his subordinates, who laugh appreciatevly. The Lady fitting him smiles politely at his joke while she prepares for another razor-sharp witticism as she turns her head and holds her breath to measure his waist.

"Fair play to ya skipper, they'll be retelling that one for years in the suppliers!" Deadwood never does himself any favours with this guy. Now he's embarrassed him in front of his cronies so there'll be a nice little job for him soon, no doubt.

Deadwood surveys the goods on offer. Having been fitted a number of times for "radical new designs" he's not expecting much.

He's not dissappointed.

Trying on a hat, he wonders how his head could have shrunk from the last fitting. Looks a bit funny, but taller - so that's always a good thing. Makes the new recruits look even smaller beside Deadwood.

Trying the gloves, he sees that they're slash proof. "So if i piss in one of these it won't leak?" he enquires from the fitter to deadpan silence and a smug look from the I/C.

Instructed to go behind the "Carry On Doctor" style changing screen, the fitter grabs a few shirts. "What neck?" she asks. "Thick!" replies the chorus.

Having given up moaning about the cheese grating qualities of the shirts years ago, Deadwood makes a mental note to look up the shareholders in Polyester Inc. He suspects a lot of the shareholders have addresses in Dublin 8 and not in the Zoo, either. Surely, no right thinking person would force others to wear such crap if they weren't making a profit from it?

A pair of trousers, radically the same, land over the screen. This time, he's a 38" waist and 32" leg. The last fitting, he was a 34/34. He notices they're still putting baton pockets in. Deadwood misses that reassuring tap on hickory he'd give the old style stick at the start of the beat. He also missed the curious looks he'd get from people as he'd "accidentally" bump into stuff to get the distinctive ping from his baton. No sense of mystery any more, he sighs.

He then tries on the pull-ups."Not bad" he muses, as he and another guy practice their golf swing to check out the movement.

As he pulls on the new fleece, he notices they have the same unique absorbtion qualities the old sponge-like fleece had. With no elasticated waistband, it hangs nicely mid air to show off his belly. The patrol jacket has also managed to maintain its skin exfoliating collar. The solution to the collar which helps the wearer collect water? A little velcro strap - genius. Deadwood is reminded of the original Patrol Jackets issued years ago. One step forward, two back.

On seeing the reflective jacket, he's reminded of the ones you'd see hanging up outside a farm co-op shop. He's given up at this stage. They've worn him down.

"Try the t-shirt" instructs the fitter. "Wha? T-shirt?" wonders a curious Deadwood. Having regretted being so critical, Deadwood then sees what is produced. Expecting a polo shirt, he's presented with a vest. "I better hit the gym if i'm wearing this in public!" he thinks to himself, while sucking in his belly. He is informed the vest is for under his shirt to keep him warm under the stab-vest . . .or cool, the fitter wasn't sure. "How many do we get?" he asks. "Well, hopefully two each" he's told. "You mean I should be changing my underwear more than once a week?" Nothing. Blank stares.

"Now" announces the fitter proudly. She holds up a trench coat for Deadwood to slip his arms into. "Jesus, i've never worn the Napoleonic one I have!" "Gabardine" cuts in the fitter dismissively. He slips it on - looking good! The boots though, surely we don't wear it with the boots?

Job done, Deadwood wonders what planet his bosses are on. Haven't these people ever heard of a hood? How about trousers that don't start to crease as soon as the iron is switched off. How about a flap on the side of the jacket -there's a project for Mrs Deadwood.

What a waste, Deadwood thinks. A big hullabaloo about a new uniform which looks like it could have been bought in the bargain section of an army surplus store.

Cutbacks? Recession? You wouldn't think so.

On the second turn the Focus labours into action. Deadwood decides to return another day to use PULSE. No point overdoing it, now, is there?

donvito99 wrote: »

Also, do you decide what your going to wear before you go out on the beat? Eg, I always see the pair of guards with the exact same uniform on ie. hi viz and hi viz or fleece and fleece.?

"Whatcha wearin tonight, Nog?"

"Dunno Deadwood, lets go with the community policing look. I hear Lugs Brannigan is making a comeback"

"Cool, Nog. Tunic and shiny shoes, so. Karlito...i mean ERU won't like it, he spent a fortune on all that gear!"

I remember a few years ago, one of these sites was launched to the outrage of some members on the public. Needless to say, they bypassed the Minister for Justice, RSA, Commissioner and T.D.'s and went to the real mover and shaker - they "Talked to Joe!"

Anyway, the person who ran the site was on defending it. When someone from the Press office came on, he roundly welcomed the site as this meant this would make people drive more carefully at these locations so the site was doing the guards work for them - saving lives!

I know of some (un?)scrupulous guards who pile on loctions to this site too!

Does anyone recognise themselves here???:P


4 STAGES OF POLICING


1.FASCINATION STAGE
Years 1 – 4



2.HOSTILITY STAGE
Years 5 – 6


They now show up for work about 2 minutes before their shift, and they are hiding about 30 minutes before end of the shift, writing reports
so they can just throw them in the sergeant's
in-box and leave ASAP. They have to get to their second job to earn money to pay for the divorce that is pending. They gripe about everything, drink excessively, chase women, and hate the public, politicians, media, etc. They feel they
have more in common with the hookers, thieves, druggies, etc. but hate them too.
Those pens that write in the rain are no longer
needed. Writing traffic tickets can be a
lot more trouble than they are worth, even on a
nice day.
To write one, or to write anything
while standing in the rain, is a sure sign of an
insane person. Their spouse is no longer
interested in hearing about all the gore and
heartache. They get the "you spend more time
with the cops than you do with me" speech.




3. SUPERIORITY STAGE
Years 7 – 15


This is when cops are at their best... They have
survived changes in administration. They know
how the political game is played, both inside
and outside the job. They know who they can
trust and who they can't. They have select
friends within the job, and stay away, as best
they can, from the nuts and boot-lickers. They
know the legal system, the judges, prosecutors,
defence solicitors, etc. They know how to
testify and put a good case together. They are
usually the ones that the gaffers turn to when
there is some clandestine request or sensitive
operation that needs to be done right. These
cops are still physically fit and can handle
themselves on the street. They will stay around
the station when needed, but have other
commitments, such as a second spouse, a second
girlfriend (sometimes both), and most of their
friends are non job.


4. ACCEPTANCE STAGE
Years 16 - ????


Now the cops have a single objective... retirement
and pension. Nothing is going to come between
them and their monthly payslip. The boss, the
force, the idiots around the station, and the
creeps on the street can all go to hell,
because they could come between them and
"sitting on the beach". There is no topic of
discussion that can't somehow lead back to
retirement issues. These guys are usually
sergeants, detectives, scenes of crime officers,
community, or some other post where they will
not be endangered. They especially don't want
some young stupid cop getting them sued, fired,
killed, or anything else causing them to lose
their "beach time". They spend a lot of time
having coffee, hanging around the station, and
looking at brochures of things they want to do
in retirement.

The retired cop usually dies within five years of
retirement, saving the force a bunch of money.
Of course, nothing is ever 100% true, but if you
are a cop, were a cop, know a cop, then you will
certainly recognize some of the above
statements!!!!

Thanks eroo, missed that one!