Written by dutch
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Tags: Police

Saturday, 29 January 2011

If you go down to Clifton Woods today you are sure of a big surprise. The Plod is there to check and compare the clues that they have already bodged now that Vincent is in the slammer.

The Plod have botched both DNA and other circumstantial evidence. Coppers have plodded in their size 10s all over the garden in Cannynge Road and have churned up the mud withpolice issue boots and have put up lots of pretty, yellow tape. We have seem them in their white spaceman suits grimly carrying out paper bags and over stuff from Jo's flat. Every twist and turn of the Plod is reported at a police press conference except the naughty ITN who were banned by the coppers from the press conference.

The assembled journalists gasped when a grey sock was triumphantly produced by plod framed in a cardboard frame. Teenagers all over the land laughed out loud and said, "Where is the sock!" and said "Shall we buy a grey sock and claim the reward money, a good wheeze hey? It has descended to the level of a farce and a "policeman's lot is not a happy one."

The whole nation is enthralled by this whodunnit/soap opera which has become more farcical by the day. It reminds one of the Two Ronnies, "Phantom Raspberry Blower", in the Seventies. The whole inquiry has become in effect like an extended episode of CSI; we expect it all to be neatly sorted out and all the loose ends tied up.

Instead we have a tangled birds nest of clues and possible leads. Did the killer/killers return to the scene. Was Landlord, Chris Jeffries, overwise known as "the Nutty Professor" or "Wizard" responsible? What role did supposedly nice and boring Vincent Tabak play. People all over the land are wondering what has happened to the pizza and its box. Is it possible that this has not been discarded and destroyed by the perpetrator.

If the sock was used to strangle Jo has the killer kept the other sock as some kind of weird trophy? How do the police sleep at night when so much is left unresolved. We saw the reconstruction and wondered what to make of it all. A crying girl grassed up Vincent Tabak; was she on 'wacky backy' at the time. Did Jo have a lover? Did a disgruntled lover who she had spurned do the wicked deed. Or did a Facebook 'friend' do the dirty on her?

The wooden tops are bringing a wise 'old head' to try and solve the mystery and bring the inquiry forward. However, poor old Sherlock will have to wade through all the botched evidence which has been trampled over by the Plod's incompetent oversized feet.

What joy it would be for the mystery to finally be resolved. It would be so satisfying to be able to know for sure who was the perpetrator and how, what, when and why. All we have are a few grainy CCTV photographs and a glossy crime reconstruction.

The whole nation was aghast when Chris Jefries was arrested and there was an absolute feeding frenzy for the assorted media circus. Now alas the sharks are circling again and we are holding our collective breath and hoping that this time the sharks will bloody the right fish. Unfortunately there is only one fish in a very small DNA genetic pool of evidence. Poor Sam Morson and her family and friends; and Vincent's nice Dutch relatives are waiting with bated breath. Let's hope this time that justice will be done and that the right fish is in the frame. It is hard to believe that this is real life and not the Keystone Cops. Let us hope that Vincent Tabak will be judged by a higher authority than the media judge and jury and the constant buzzing and tweeting that never stops. It is hoped that he is not being used as a sprat to catch a mackeral; there are surely enough red herrings which have been defrosted from the police's evidence barrel.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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