"The times they are a-changing" belted Bob Dylan many years ago. However, he neglected to mention that they seem to be changing for the worse, although we can guess that is what he probably meant.
Take the good Old English 'Booby' for example; much admired the world over for his cool demeanour, patience and politeness. Twenty years ago, when I was still at school, people respected and looked up to the police, they felt comfortable knowing that their local copper was patrolling the streets. If a policeman told kids "Clear off" they'd promptly do so without any lip. No teenager ever had the nerve to stand up to a policeman and boldly proclaim, "I know my rights!" They'd have got a thick ear or a size 10 boot up their backside. Not only that, it would have been done with the full approval of the child's parents. Today, parents run to their lawers and sue the police and teenagers too for simply clipping an insolent child round the ear.
I have fond memories of playing rugger with my mates at the local park, long after the Parkie had locked the gates - we used to sneak in through a hole in the fence to continue our boisterous game into the night. However, hearing the piercing shrill of PC Harris's police whistle put the fear of God into us. We'd momentarily freeze in our tracks then run like hell.
Today, I'd have trouble trusting a policeman with my wallet, let alone my life. They seem to be more concerned with looking out for shadowy terrorists in parks and supermarkets, or watching their CCTV monitors, to effectively patrol the streets. Stab vests and Walkie-Talkies are standard issue which complement the handcuffs and Rodney King approved, L.A-style truncheon. Yes, times they are a-changing. A few years ago, riding high on the back of 9/11 hysteria, Tony Blair stepped up police powers. A British policeman can now stop and search you if he has "reasonable grounds for suspecting you are carrying drugs or stolen property." My friend Eugene would disagree. One afternoon he was simply walking home after collecting his service wash from the local launderette. This was enough reasonable grounds, apparently for PC Plod to initiate a stop and search.  He insisted on rummaging through his smalls - maybe on the pretext that he was laundering dirty money instead of dirty socks and underwear?
Then another time in April my young nephew, Eddie, was subjected to a string of questions and had his rucksack searched by an overzealous young copper. What was his crime? Standing outside a supermarket where he actually works, waiting for his mate. I can understand at international airport or maybe at a major sporting event - but outside of your local supermarket in tranquil old British Ipswich? Unfortunately, too many people today are unaware of their legal rights. By rights, he should have been given a form which clearly stated his name, his self-defined ethnicity (Punk, Mod and Chav don't count!), when and where he was stopped and searched, the PCs name and ID number. Finally, he should have been informed as to exactly what the PC was searching for (Maybe weapons of mass destruction or depleted uranium - take your pick!)
How many teenagers know their rights these days? Granted, many aren't angels and dress in a manner which arouses the curiosity of the Old Bill, but that doesn't warrant getting your privates sniffed and podded by a police dof - without a muzzle I hasten to add! Little did young Eddie know that he could have, legally, refused the search as the policeman did not say that he had reason to believe he was carrying an offensive weapon or drugs. If you don't stand up for your rights now, you'll fall anything. In my opinion, we should forget Dylan and hark back to the wisdom of the Clash: "Know your rights!"

20 August 2006

Thoght it'll be worth reading for u. Please give your commentary wether u like this article or not, wether u agree or disagree with the author.
P.S. A.C.A.B. is inevitable