Taking time
It was the 90s, and on a particularly quiet night we received a call about a prowler in a cul-de-sac. The dog handler, Rastus Murphy (name changed to protect identity), charged in with his dog Wolf. We set up cordons and eagerly waited for news. Thirty minutes went by. Our newly promoted Sergeant, a dog handler for 20 years, ordered us not to move unless we heard from him and ventured in.
In those days you really did do as you were told, but curiosity got the better of me and my partner as neither of our colleagues had responded to calls. After a 15-minute walk, we arrived and noticed Wolfy fast asleep under a lemon tree. Our colleagues stood at the top of the driveway near a house, having a smoke.
Through a gap in the curtains we could see two rather dubious chaps were busy with a couple of ‘friends’ we later established were prostitutes. Cannabis smoke wafted through the open windows. We had to take our time, because of the risky business of bearing down on the amorous couples in their heightened state of what we now know as delirium.
After about another 20 minutes of planning, we stormed the house under section 18(2) of the Misuse of Drugs Act 1975, and apprehended the parties for various offences, and in various states of undress.