‘Ello, ello, ello, what’s going on here then?’ What is going on this week is that Essex Police is spending taxpayers’ money on putting electronic chips on the fuel tanks of police vehicles, so our boys and girls in blue do not put the wrong sort of fuel in.

Over the last five years, the force spent about £42,000 on repairs to vehicles which had been filled with the wrong fuel.

It’s an easy mistake to make apparently, but one that hardly fills you with comfort when you consider the awesome responsibilities the police force has.

We are supposed to have the best police in the world! A super hi-tech, 21st century force to protect society, uphold the law and prevent terrorism.

Apparently, however, they can’t be trusted at a petrol pump.

You hardly have to be Sherlock Holmes, Inspector Clouseau or Inspector flaming Gadget to be able to read the sticker on the inside of a petrol cap, but apparently it is too much for some.

You can picture it now, the Sweeney’s Jack Regan screeching round the streets of London in some souped-up Granada in a high speed chase, screaming “give it up sonny before I give you a smack, you’re nicked” out of the window before he suddenly grinds to a halt and George Carter says “sorry Guv, I put the wrong fuel in”.

Regan would have shot him!

Or in modern parlance, a Second World War veteran, at the end of his tether having called the police numerous times about a gang of feral youths kicking down his garden fence, shouting abuse and throwing things, finally snaps and gives one of the 14-year-olds a clip round the ear.

Before you can say “child abuse”, the yobs dial 999 and suddenly it is action stations.

Officers welcome being pulled out of their health and safety, illegal immigrant sexism and disability seminar to actually do some work.

The male officers (you can’t say policeman, even if they are men and in the police) who are monitoring Big Brother on Channel 4 in case someone says something out of turn, are told to turn off their tellies and get to action.

The PCSOs are told not to respond because they have not passed their bike proficiency tests, but the inspectors on self-improvement management courses are told to snap to it.

Even some of the top brass are told to stop investigating new ways of recording crimes statistics to make sure they go down and they all pile into a van.

Having made sure they mirror, signal, manoevre, the driver pulls away at an appropriate speed only to grind to a halt.

“Oh sugar (or the ruder expletive)” shouts one officer, and is immediately assigned to an appropriate use of language course.

Let’s hope the people feeding the police horses don’t make the same mistake and fill them full of ragwort.

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