There are those jobs which fall into the "now why did you go & do that" category.
I went to a domestic. Phil was well known at the local nick. He had a list of precons which amounted to petty theft & a little minor violence, of the handbags at dawn variety, usually in the town centre after a few too many Stellas.
I got called to Phil’s house one night by his wife. It was something to do with him spending money on a pizza takeaway on his way home from the pub. The upshot was that he’d pushed his wife over, she’d fallen in the kitchen & cut her arm.
Phil is reasonably affable, most of the time. He suggested that we had better things to do with our time than deal with petty domestics which would be forgotten about in the morning. He’d happily fill out the forms with us so we could be on our way & he could catch Match of the Day.
I explained that he probably went a little too far this time & he’d have to set the video for the footy because he was going to be coming with me. He resigned himself to the free taxi ride down to the cells, with barely a nod & I walked him out to the car.
I had hold of his arm, as I did with all my prisoners. We got out into the street & were discussing the likely time-frame for the forthcoming proceedings when suddenly & without warning Phil punched me in the face. I was a little surprised & after explaining it wasn’t a good idea to do that sort of thing to a friendly policeman because they tend to be less friendly, he was cuffed. We continued the few yards left to the patrol car during which time he was further arrested for assault on police. I said, "What did you do that for, Phil?"
He simply replied, "Well as you nicked me for a poxy domestic I thought I might as well get nicked for something decent."
You can’t help some people. I got £50 compensation when he appeared at court.
Phil never paid it.