Crime-watching

 First published in Column 8 on 23^rd January, 1991

 One policeman has recently been quoted as saying we shouldn’t tolerate foul language in public places. In his area they’re cracking down on people who speak obscenities in front of passers-by.

In line with current thinking that we all have to play our part in putting down crime, he recommended members of the public rebuke those who are openly foul-mouthed.

As a not-so-well-built and not-too-tall person, I’m a bit dubious about that.

You know what would happen if I went up to some great hulk who was swearing in the street and told him his language was not conducive to mental health?

He’d blast me with obscenities and profanities and lay me out flat.

It’s all very well saying we’ve got to play our part in reducing crime. When I see some of the replays of crims’ actions on programmes like Crimewatch, I’m glad I wasn’t on the spot.

For the moment I think I’ll stay cautious about approaching certain people to suggest they need to wash out their mouths with soap. Perhaps I just lack courage.

Courage is a quality that seems to arise when you least expect it. That couple in their eighties who beat off an intruder would no doubt have been the last ones to consider they had reserves of bravery. Perhaps it’s those hidden reserves the police are relying on.

I was driving through town on a Saturday night recently with a relative, Mrs F, when we saw three young men kicking someone on the ground. As we stopped at the lights, one of them gave a last kick – into the person’s face – before racing off.

My reaction was to drive on – in the story of the Good Samaritan, I’d probably have been classed as one of those who passed by on the other side.

Not so Mrs F. She told me to stop! I said I was already stopped, waiting for the lights. Next thing I knew, she was out of the car and racing over to the stationary figure.

I pulled into the kerb. Mrs F was down beside the man, seeing how he was. He wasn’t very good. His face was bleeding badly, like something out of a war movie.

Then we saw another figure by the wall, lying motionless. At first, on being instructed by Mrs F to see if he was all right, I thought he was dead.

However, he proved merely to be keeping out of harm’s way. Seems he’d also been kicked. When he finally got up and saw the extent of his father’s injuries, he opened his mouth and a flood of obscenities poured out.

Long-forgotten movie about a 
brave woman...

It certainly wasn’t the time to tell him to stop.

Mrs F, who doesn’t seem to get fazed by this sort of situation, yelled out to the taxi-drivers across the Exchange to call the police. She claimed later her knees were knocking but she didn’t have time to think about it.

Meantime she spent fifteen minutes calming the two guys down till the police arrived.

On another occasion she stood between two guys who were beating up a third outside a hotel and kept them at bay. Mrs F reckons it’s probably because she’s a woman that ruffians are less likely to have a go at her.

It’s probably because I’m a man that I think they’re more likely to have a go at me.

In the end I guess we don’t know how much courage we have until we really have to use it. Most of the time, for a lot of us, it’s easier to run the other way.

 

 How times change: nearly 25 years later and the country is so rife with crime and with angry humans (men and women) that it’s become very dangerous to get involved in street squabbles. What comes out of their mouths barely gets a look in. In fact, one brave man on a very public street in Auckland got himself killed trying to rescue a young woman from a violent man. When I was young, if a murder occurred anywhere in the country, there would be shock for days afterwards. Now it’s so commonplace it rarely gets a headline.

As for Mrs F. Well, I’ve no idea why I gave her a disguise. The lady in question was – and is - my wife, and on a number of occasions she has exercised bravery. Even today she’s still brave, though she’s a bit less liable to tackle big bruisers.