I was distressed at yet another intrusion to my property. This against the background of the police repeatedly losing crucial evidence. I tore off to the police station to report the crime – but this time I was determined, too, to report to the police that the police were non-functional. There is a special procedure for that. But this was, needless to say, a contradiction in itself. I entered the police station to find that they were – non-functional. The communications officer had a spectacular tantrum in the charge office (I couldn’t repeat it on my blog). He was not able to track down an officer on duty. He said to me: “This is not the worst!” and volunteered a worse scenario. He’d get an officer to come over and see me at my home, he said. As I left, my eye fell on this police vehicle parked next to my car (pictured). A few hours later I received a call from a police officer: “Where are you? Call me! I’m out of airtime!” The line went dead. I struggled to find his number, then returned his call. The patrol van arrived, he parked it in front of the house, got out and slipped. “Whoops haha!” he said, “I’m a little bit hung over.” We sat down together. He began to take a statement from me. I said that I didn’t have a full account just yet, but I could tell him what I knew so far. “OK,” he said, and stood up. I said: “Is that it? “Yes,” he said. “There’ll be no need to start again where we left off. Just start again.” At the same time, his partner was talking to wife E: “We’re tired of picking up dead bodies this weekend,” she said. They zoomed off down a long cul-de-sac – before I could tell them it was a cul-de-sac.