On the beat with the specials

The police's force is looking for more volunteers to join its ranks. Reporter JESSICA CUNNIFFE went to find out what's so special about being a special constable.



Most people go home after a hard day's work, eat their dinner, slump on the sofa, and, quite often, watch one of TV's many cop shows.

But there are others who don't watch police dramas, they live them.

Sergeant Paul Mongston, who by day works for Mercedes Benz, has been a special constable for ten years.

"Same uniform, same powers," says Sgt Mongston, describing his role. "The only thing we've got different to the regulars is the SC," he adds, looking at the letters on their epaulettes.

These SCs work a minimum of 16 hours a month, although Sgt Mongston actually does 50-60 a month, on top of a full-time day job.

The Special Constabulary brings a whole new meaning to people who say they have two hats, with managing directors, dentists, chefs and radiographer being among the 43 people who moonlight as police officers.

Specials, as they are commonly known, are often misunderstood, plagued by a myth that as supposed 'plastic plods' or 'hobby bobbies' they have fewer powers than the regulars. In fact, their powers are the same. Now the derision has shifted to PCSOs, who unlike specials and regulars cannot make arrests.

Another myth is that specials are just there to direct traffic or help out at events (which, of course, they do). Because they are also attached to neighbourhood policing, patrolling hotspot areas and executing warrants.

Not only do they back up the regulars on Friday and Saturday nights, there is also an opportunity to work in specialist areas, such as with traffic, CID, SOCO, helicopters or the dog unit.

So one day they could be working on crowd control, and the next busting drug dens.

Jackie Kesterton, who works in business, performed her first duty as SC Kesterton in December after several months' training.

"I was bored and wanted a challenge, and had worked as a civilian volunteer before," she said.

"But being a special is the best thing I've ever done; I wish I'd done it ten years ago."

IT worker Barnes Thomas found the role in which he has been for 18 months a far cry from computing.

He said: "I just wanted the challenge, I wanted to contribute. In IT you're sat at a desk, 9am to 5pm, and it is service issues which is the thing people are most concerned about."

A bonus is the fact that specials are not lumbered with as much bureaucracy.

Sgt Mongston said: "We don't get as much paperwork as the regulars. Because of our full time jobs we can't do investigations and interview suspects."

Despite the perks, nationally their number has declined during the past 50 years, from 67,000 in the 1950s to 14,000 in 2008.

Though training and vetting takes between 9 and 12 months, there are efforts to bring this period down to six months.

According to the three officers on this unit, the wait is worthwhile.

As the sound of sirens signifies a Friday night in Milton Keynes, and the discovery of 'two shoplifters, aged 10 and 12' stands out amongst the chatter on the police radio, they begin a 3pm to 3am shift.

Within just a couple of hours this unit of three officers had dealt with a variety of incidents, spanning the city.

In Coffee Hall they came across an alleged dog attack, where a woman flagged the police car after an encounter with a Staffordshire bull terrier.

They did an area search in Leadenhall for mini motorbikes, before patrolling Netherfield and seeing a taxi driver using his mobile phone while driving.

As the driver fell to his knees in desperation to plead with the officers against the caution - £60 penalty and three points on his licence - Sgt Mongston told him: "I don't make the law, I just enforce it."

And while reading the man his rights, the unit were called to a car crash in Westcroft, which the control room informed them involved a baby.

But despite the to-ing and fro-ing, the boredom and the action - the thank you's and the **** you's - Sgt Mongston is adamant that nothing beats being out on the beat.

"I get satisfaction from making this a safe environment. Everyone does this because they want to put something back into the community, and very often because they've got fed up with the anti-social behaviour.

"A lot of people don't know that there are 40 unpaid officers that give their time to make this a safer place. People say we're silly. But we do it because we love it."

Special