Is it any wonder that there's little sympathy from the public for Plod, at a time when Plod need sympathy and support **and reliable information** more than ever? (No offence meant to the feet on the street, who are **on the whole** (exceptions apply) doing their best in very difficult circumstances. Lions, donkeys, etc).
The local police in 99.7% of the country are invisible. Meanwhile the Chief Constables have done so well for themselves that their mutual business isn't even confined to the Lodges these days; as noted in earlier replies, they've invented a few nice little taxpayer-funded earners on the side.
And meanwhile again, the very same police chiefs haven't yet implemented any worthwhile proportion of the post-Soham recommendations (Bichard report, 2004) on running police intelligence differently, and most of them aren't even running police intelligently (eg like police telephones that get answered or take messages if unanswered - ffs guys IT'S NOT ROCKET SCIENCE, even after you paid your mates down the Lodge tens of millions for an overpriced and frequently dysfunctional command/control/dispatch system whose front end can't even derive locations from postcodes so you have to spell strange names out in full over a crappy VoIP network... grrr).
There's a recent piece on BBC news about a couple who were angry that it took police 13 hours to respond to a burglary. Where most folks live, the news would be that the police *did* actually respond to an ordinary burglary:
Meanwhile, The Powers That Be are preaching at kids not to carry knives: "no need to have a weapon just to feel safe", even if the kids don't intend to use them for real. But when The Powers That Used To Be, Tony B Liar and his best mate Gordon B Ruin, also say "we have to have these weapons, just to feel safe, but we really truly hope we don't need to use them", it's supposed to be somehow different, because Gordon and Tony are talking about nuclear weapons and not daggers?
And let's not even start about Tony's lies, war crimes, and corruption politely being swept under the carpet by the folks with their snouts in the Westminster trough.