By the grace of Her Majesty, the Queen, and local electorate who bothered to get off their savoury snack infested sofas, I have been granted the golden opportunity to make a real and lasting difference to the health, safety and well-being of NorthWestFordshire (NFWshire). Under my visionary leadership, policing will improve, more criminals will be caught and there will be fewer victims. Under my excellent governance, local community safety projects will blossom and prevent crime & anti-social behaviour like a hot knife through butter. Under my wise coordination, the local criminal justice system will whirr like Swiss clockwork. The people of NFWshire will never have had it so good.
All this requires a considerable amount of refined thought, meditation and careful data analysis. Indeed beyond recruiting my own driver to free up my time for such contemplation, I have now had to hire a yoga adviser, a tame (and fairly short haired) criminologist and cognitive psychologist (whatever that really means) to fulfill my role. You will appreciate, I have thought very carefully about my need for such assistance but I considered I was worth it.
Now what I do not need are ripples in the Force. And frankly many of you (with a few notable exceptions) have been acting like mini Luke Skywalkers: asking me stupid questions and trying to levitate the petty concerns in your locality to what I am doing at a strategic level. Or even just trying to catch me out. I would advise you to read the law and know that your powers are really rather limited. Your job is to assist me to get the job done whilst giving a nod to public accountability. Ask me questions of course, but do not push things too far.
I know all about public accountability: I have an election in less than three years’ time (if I stand again). And in truth, I am not that bothered about the little people of NFWshire until then. I have far bigger and more pressing matters to worry about, such as how to treat the discolouration of my chain of office. I jest of course, there are more important matters than that (although if anyone knows a good silversmith...?). Over the next few months, for example, I am going to have to choose who victims should be supported by in the future. That will be a difficult decision. I may even get the NHS111 service to do it. Or perhaps a high street bank call centre.But you know, I probably won’t say that to them because they would get all huffy. And the last thing I need is a bunch of irritable, irritating has-been local councillors tying me down in glutinous procedures and tedious meetings. Life is too short for that. So I will carry on schmoozing them and making them feel important.
But back to the point: I hope I have persuaded you by now, that your job is not to challenge me. Your job is support me, help me, massage me, tickle my toes and just, you know, make me feel good. Have you got that?
It isn’t that hard to do…
The Secret PCC Diary until now:
- Collected diary - days one to ten
- Day 50
- Day 68
- Appointing the new Chief Constable
- PCCs must show people its worth voting (interview with the secret PCC)
- Fields of ponies: the Secret PCC does Income Generation!
- By the pricking of my thumbs, something radical this way comes!
Legal disclaimer: just in case you thought this series of secret PCC blogs is based upon a real person or persons: it isn't. It really isn't. Any similarity to a living PCC is entirely coincidental.
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