When you see a police raid on the telly, fictional or documentary, it's action-filled. You can smell the testosterone, adrenalin and machismo oozing from the screen (and that's just the women). Lots of shouting, 'Go go go, you cover the back', barging down doors, and asserting their presence.
I have just watched the crappest police raid ever. A block of flats somewhere in the City of Westminster. Six police officers standing outside; parked opposite, two police vans - one to transport the police, one looking like prisoner transport.
It's a modern block of flats, with controlled entrance. Six police officers standing outside. 'Obviously not a social call,' I remark to a fellow onlooker passer-by. I toy with the idea of suggeesting they try the Tradesmen's button, but remind myself 'Don't interfere'.
Two officers wandered somewhat aimlessly round the side and peered forlornly upwards. Another said 'Tescos' and shrugged (there is indeed a branch of the Satanic Emporium in that block). A few more tries of the various buttons on the intercom and they trooped dejectedly back to their van.
Super, I thought, when being subject to a mid-morning raid by the Boys in Blue, just ignore them, they'll go away.
At this point, a chap strolled up to the door, entered his code, and the front door opened. I pondered whether I should call-out 'Coo-ee! Coppers. You can tail-gate that chap.' I decided not. One of them noticed and huffing and puffing he trotted across the road, looking like an out-of-condition middle-aged bloke running for a bus. And they gained admission.
I did consider hanging around to watch them drag out the culprit, but decided against it. You never know with these things. They can get nasty. Maybe some Drug OverLord or Master Terrorist, shots being fired and so on. Mind you I saw no signs of Tactical Support Group, so I guess it was probably just a petty crim.
