As we at the Inchy’s True Tales of Woe Corn-plaster Appreciation Society move temporarily into Inchcock’s Security Career Woes, let’s take a moment to reflect for a moment on the earlier true masterpieces formulated from the memory of the insanitary, bald old chap’s tormented mind.
We know he was born a bloodied Park Drive cigarette ash covered unwanted little 3lb 3oz mite. Let’s face it, his mother and the mid-wife told him it was so.
But did it discourage our little hero? Well apart from the suicide attempt, and the rampant depression like.
Today in his twilight years, as he searches and hopes to find anyone other than Benefit office staff, bus drivers and shopkeepers who will talk to him, he has (He tells me), found a minuscule but certain iota of acceptance of his fate and Woes. How did he manage this you might ask? (If you don’t ask, please proceed to the main body of this True Tales of Woe Part 23)
Inchcock himself explains:
“Well, yer see midduck, I thought if I don’t not expect owt good to happen, I cud accept the things that ain’t good like, yer see?”
Security Guard Inchy – Has to call for backup
The company had asked for a security officer, as an end wall to the factory, had been hit by a fork lift, and it had collapsed. So security was well and truly compromised, and they required cover over the night until it could be repaired or rebuilt.
I was summoned from my first night off in fourteen days to attend.
The night manager met me there, and took me on a quick walk around the site, as it started to pour down with rain.
He warned me that the RT (Radio Transmitter) did not work well in that area, nor did the mobile phone.
I was based in an old dilapidated office near the entrance gates, with a land-line phone that did not work. A cold outside tap and an electric kettle that leaked and a holed roof.
The unit was at the end of a cul-de-sac, they had sensor lights in the lorry yard, as I found out on my first patrol, I also discovered that in the centre of the yard, the RT worked a little better, so decided I’d make my check calls through the night from that spot.
The night manager called at the site about 0030hrs for a sit-rep, and kindly freed me of the problem I was having of whether to eat my shortcake biscuits now or later, by consuming them himself.
Off he shot into the night, it began to rain again, I relocked the gates, and realised I was a little late with my regular check call to the control room – so I walked into the centre of the lorry park yard to make the call. While doing so, the sensor lights came on, and lit up the sight of two male bodies at the far end of the site near the damaged wall!
I asked for back up, as the two bodies went in different directions, one I saw jump over the fencing.
I waited near the gate, and the back-up arrived in the form of Mick, a mobile patrol officer along with his white Alsatian bitch dog, named ‘Belle’.
I opened the gate to let them in, then relocked it, and joined them as he was letting the bitch out of the van. I gave him a quick explanation of events, and the three of us were walking down the yard to the area where I’d last seen the missing intruder.
It was at that point that I realised the dog was chewing on my right ankle as we walked! Mick laughed, I cursed ‘Belle’, and she just growled a bit in my direction and looked at me with a puzzled expression!
We moved on to where they had placed stacks of pallets in place of the wall. I moved towards the pallets, to see if I could find any rain made footprints on them, to identify whether the intruder had or had not climbed or tried to climb over the pallets into the factory.
There were no footprints, but as I was returning into the yard, I noticed a large drain cover was dislodged in the yard. I pointed this out to Mick, who also thought it possible that the intruder had hid himself under the drain cover – so I bent down, and as I shone my torchlight into the depths… ‘Belle’ decided to chew on my left hand this time!
More laughter from Mick. More cursing from me. Oh, and tail wagging from Belle as she gnawed away at me limb ensued.’
There were no signs of the intruder in the drains.
At this point I told Mick top get the ‘…king dog back in his van.
A visual check of the site brought no signs of the intruder, and we walked back to the vehicle at the gates, to find that the night manager was sat outside trying to get our attention to offer further support.
Mick and ‘Belle’ departed, and the boss came in.
He looked at my leg and hand, and went to get the first-aid kit out of his van. I followed him out of the office and down the steps towards the gate where he’d parked, and slipped on a wet step, going arse-over-tit onto the concrete path, cutting and bruising my right knee!
By then, I was genuinely concerned for the health of the night manager, as he was laughing so much!
The boss managed to contain his merriment long enough to treat the wounds, and as he was about to leave site, two police officers arrived and they all came in for a cuppa, and finished off me shortcakes whilst laughing energetically at my downfall!
It was an awfully long time before for the other lads stopped the jibes. You’d be amazed at the ingenious ways they brought ‘bite’, ‘dog’, ‘bell’, ‘Wood-Would’ and ‘blood’ into the conversations!
When they had all gone, I secured the gates and started on a patrol of the site, as it started to thunder and lightning… guess who got hit my the lightning?