Regardless of your views on police priorities these days, I think you'll like this back-in-time introduction to “Penryn's Own Mr Plod,” one PC Jago in the 1930s, writes Mike Truscott.
I spotted it during another dip into “Roy Coote, Boxer, Tugmaster, Sailor,” written by John Marquis and published by the Packet in the early 1990s.
PC Jago was not a typical old-style copper, known for a no-nonsense clip round the ear for young miscreants; he was a much gentler soul, happy with a quieter life.
John wrote: “Roy remembers his own mother's peremptory treatment of PC Jago when he called at Bank Cottages, then a noisy enclave packed with boisterous families, to enquire about some misdemeanor.
“'What do you want now, Jago?' she would ask. 'It's not my lad; he's been here all afternoon.'
“Roy remembers that his mother intimidated PC Jago far more than PC Jago intimidated her, but Bank Cottages was always a natural place for the hapless bobby to call as he pursued his inquiries among Penryn's young folk when a window or a street lamp had been smashed.”
Roy also recalled visiting PC Jago's house to report that he had ridden someone else's bike off the end of Penryn Quay and that, before he and his mates could fish it out, “a coaster came in and sat on it.”
PC Jago invited Roy and his pals in for a cup of tea and then settled for just telling them how naughty they had been.
John observed: “The Penryn bobby was as far removed from the archetypal authoritarian community copper of the day as can be imagined, though Joan (Roy's widow) recalls his Falmouth counterparts being far more fearsome, filling local youngsters with awe.”