Festival "Warm—Up" Too Hot

I've just read the Sunday Times "Comment" on the [unclear: froogs] outside the Town Hall. It [unclear: o ls] like 'stumblebums', 'rowdies, ragamuffins', 'surlily'. Not about the police, of course, they were 'unruffled', 'cool', 'disciplined'. The Sunday Times fails to comment that with better organisation none of the chaos and violence would have happened. In which event the Sunday Times would have missed their chance to couch their smears on anti-establishment youth in the middle of their adulatory drivel about the police.

The police approach was low key as the paper described, except when they were making arrests. Then they used all the strong arm frogmarching, knee and boot action, in fact all the trademarks that our police share with the gestapo anywhere and anytime. Also low key but effectively inflammatory was the hectoring, patronising way policemen tried to get the crowd to disperse. They had many variations of "come kiddies, it's well past your bedtime", and used them all.

The Sunday Times predicts from Friday night's events that the police will be able to handle the disruption if the tour comes. They are fooling themselves, and misleading the public about the police tactics and about the causes of general discontent. If the police and the public continue to ignore the problems in the organisation of entertainment and the social conditions that have caused a large section of the country's youth to be prepared to violently confront the establishment, they wilt have only themselves to blame when there is a greater eruption of violence.

The conclusion I drew from Friday night is that the police will in fact not be able to handle such an eruption. They were successful on Friday night only because the Mongrels lacked conviction. In a typical instance three policemen, hundreds of yards from their fellows, arrested a bottle thrower and marched him a long distance to the van. About twenty of the arrested man's mates followed their progress. One shouted, "Let's get them, there's only three of them and twenty of us". If they had tried to free their mate and maul the policemen they would have succeeded. But the best they could do was to chant "Pig, Pig, Pig".

After all the bottle throwing, brawling and arrests were over, I overheard a fifteen year old boy boast "I killed three pigs tonight". On the night it was no more than a wish. Soon it may be a reality.

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While the police were wading through the [unclear: crowd] outside the library, constable [unclear: B5] stood guard by the police van parked at the back of the Town Hall in Wakefield Street. As I walked past him to get round to the other end of the fray, B5 was chuckling to himself, whistling, and generally enjoying his lot. Passers by may have thought to themselves "What a nice policeman", particularly if they were unaware of the scene on the other side of the Town Hall.

I, however, had seen it and been disconcerted by the hectoring, blunt police action, and I found [unclear: B5 s] nonchalance somewhat less than human.

Passers by would not have lingered to watch B5 when the pressure was on. As his fellow policemen were frogmarching arrested youths back to the van and throw ing them in, [unclear: B5] took it upon himself to help each one in with this boot.

I wasn't able to get close enough to discern whether he continued smiling, or smiled more, when he was putting the boot in. When I did confront him shortly after his action, to get his number, I remarked in the mildest tone I could man age that I wasn't over impressed with his unnecessary [unclear: savagery] The only public relations effort [unclear: B5] cared to make was to threaten me with the same fate, if I didn't 'move on' right away.

R.W. Steele

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Cop among 'The Daffodils'

Not all policemen are thick-skinned vulgar yobboes; some of them are friendly sensitive people, just like you or me. Take C.P.007^* for example. I came upon him in the corridor of the Magistrates Court the other day, having a cozy chat with a police witness. A well dressed, female, police witness. She smiled charmingly at C.P.007 and stroked the fringe on her handbag as though it was something else. I asked C.P. 007 if it was in order for him to talk with his witness before a case. He assured me that it was all right, provided that the case itself was not discussed. I took C.P.007's number and wrote the first three verses of "The Daffodils" in my notebook. This had a marked effect on the proceedings. The cozy little chat assumed the character of a furtive conspiracy. Suddenly our hero marched halfway up the corridor and invited me to join him there for a talk.

"Now look", he said, breathing a bit heavily in my face "Don't you go taking my number without asking me first see. It makes me very edgy". I remarked that the big silver numbers on his epaulettes had probably been put there to save him the inconvenience of being asked all the time.

"Well I don't care, I like to be asked, see I'll even tell you my name if you ask me". I did. It sounded something like Machiavellie. How was it spelt?

"That's for me to know and for you to guess" said C.P.007 triumphantly. I finished the "Daffodils" transcript and turned the page before he saw it.

"It's no good you writing down things I say and quoting them off" said our mate. "I'll deny it all, as you well know".

I did well know. So I began on "The Wreck of the Hesperus" instead.

"You aren't dangerous to us Mr Franks" said C.P.007 getting flustered. "You aren't dangerous to us at all. We've got more important people than you to get you know". I told C.P.007 that this was great. It gave me more room to move in. He leaned over me angrily, dismissing science for weight.

"Got anything I can arrest you for Mr Franks? Got any money owing to the justice department?" No there wasn't sorry. Would C.P.007 be'happier if there was? No answer. Only "just don't you take my number without asking see, it makes me annoyed. Very edgy it makes me".I promised never to take his number again with out first asking his permission. As I said before, you don't meet such a thing as a sensitive cop everyday. "I'm just watching these people like a shepherd tending his flock" C.P.007 told me at one stage in the conversation. How many such poets' hearts must beat beneath the blue serge pigskin?

"Names and numbers have been changed to protect their owners from possible embarrassment.

— Don Franks

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