Tied Up in Soho
Have you ever wondered how police investigators seem to have a 'sixth sense' in matters of honesty? They know when the suspect is being dishonest, and the truth seldom waits for breakfast. (=Cold porridge and sugarless gnat's tea - or so they tell me.) Our Boys in Blue use a series of progressive interrogation techniques that exploit human behaviour when the going gets tough. Some crooks (usually the ones who've been interrogated before) are capable of suppressing or controlling their body language, but when pressure is applied over prolonged periods this becomes increasingly difficult. As they bend and buckle under the strain of interrogation, signs of deceit surface.
This doesn't mean the fuzz have the crooks cold - far from it. The investigators see the crooks are withholding information, so they squeeze harder, eventually he or she cracks. When depends on the crook's resilience to the applied mental pressure - it's just a matter of time.
This month our Bodyspy is Detective Sergeant McBiggles, who's been assigned as chief of staff for the bungled bank robbery on Regent Street, Soho...
"Did you get him constable?"
"Yeah Guv, we got him alright."
"Any sign of the get-a-way car?"
"Nah, it disappeared down Beak Street with Fast Eddie in tow. We only got him 'cause Betty Jobbins saw him coming and tied a stocking round the lamp post outside her parlour door. She pulled it tight as Eddie ran past. You should have seen him gulpin' at her in undies - with plenty showing - as he flew through the air and landed flat on his face."
"What about the dough?"
"Oh yeah, they got the dough alright, or 1.6 million of it. It would have been a clean get-a-way if Eddy hadn't dropped his sack and stopped to scoop it up as he sped towards the get-a-way car. They got edgy and drove off as Billy Busker beat him about the head with his fiddle stick. He grabbed the sack and ran, only to be apprehended by Betty's ingenuity."
"OK constable, I think I've got the gist. When are you bringing him in?"
"Oh, we're just mopping up now. We'll be back at HQ in twenty minutes."
"I want the hussy and the fiddler for questioning too."
"OK Guv, we've got the fiddler here, but Betty's gone back to work."
"Well, get her off the job and down here fast!"
"Yes Guv." The radio crackled and went dead.
Latter, back at the nick, "You do not have to say anything." Voiced McBiggles huskily to Fast Eddie, "But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court." Eddie sloped back in his chair, lifted up his right leg and rested a Dr Marten on the interview room table where he now sat opposite McBiggles and WPC Tire. To complete his carefree gesture he placed his hands behind his head. McBiggles noted his nonverbal challenge and continued, "Anything you do say may be given in evidence."
Having finished reading his caution to this cocky pizza-faced git opposite him, McBiggles lent forward and pushed his boot off the interview table. Eddie jerked forward as his leg fell to the floor and then slouched back in his chair once more taking up the hands behind the head position. McBiggles choose to let his gesture ride. Questioning began, but Eddie was feeling none too informative.
The questioning continued as McBiggles found himself tiring from Eddie's defensive backchat and constant display of the nonverbal challenge. McBiggles sloped back in his chair, placed his hands behind the head to mirror Eddie's stance. This obviously agitated Eddie (it was intended to) as he once more placed a Dr Marten on the table. McBiggles immediately broke his gesture, lent forward and pushed Eddie's boot off the edge. Again Eddie Jerked forward and then slouched back in his chair, this time crossing his arms (defensive). Ahh, mused McBiggles, Mr Fuzz one, 'Fast' food face nil! Questioning continued.
With each question Eddie came back with a flawless defensive answer, sometimes leaning his head forward as he did so to reinforce his words. WPC Tire sat at the table like a dummy, not being able to get a word in edgeways, her plump belly resting on the table. Eddie felt like singing the lyrics of that popular Ian Dury and The Blockheads song 'Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick' (for those of you who are too young to remember: "hit me with your rhythm stick, two fat persons click click click, hit me, hit meeee..." sorry I got carried away there), but didn't dare do so. The interesting thing was that Eddie's head was tilted slightly to the left side throughout most of the interview. Being a Bodyspy McBiggles knew why. Eddie's head position was one of 'interest', it showed he was listening carefully to every word in order to maintain consistent answers with no hint of contradiction. He was a tough nut to crack.
McBiggles had wanted to nick Eddie ever sine the burglary on Toff's Jewellers on Cavendish Street; there just wasn't enough evidence to do so. That's when he'd earned the name 'Fast' for outrunning PC Longlegs. Indeed, you may ask whose legs are longest. The answer is Longlegs, but Eddie was still faster. As the pace of questioning quickened and the pressure on Eddie grew, McBiggles noted what he thought to be the beginnings of a hand to face gesture, but Eddie quickly nipped it in the bud. Ahh, weakening at last thought McBiggles while feeling his tummy rumbling for Mrs Sweet's sticky buns. After seeing this his first thought was to push on, but hell, he needed a hot mug of coffee and a bun. Besides, he had an idea he wanted to put into action.
So McBiggles and WPC Tire strolled off to the Police canteen while Eddie had to be content to sip another cup of gnat's pee from the stiff boards of his cell bed. WPC Tire - strangely enough - became disconcerted as she was called to the Police radio to relieve the duty sergeant who'd slipped out for a call of nature. She arrived back at the canteen just in time to witness McBiggles stuffing the remainder of his last bun into his mouth (one was never enough) as he jumped to his feet; flecks of saliva danced on his lips. WPC Tire saw the plate of sticky buns on the canteen counter and ran her tongue around her chops. "Right, let's see if we can slacken off Eddie's jaw bones shell we constable?" said McBiggles rubbing his hands to lose the remaining sugar. Inconsiderate Bun-hog mused WPC Tire.
They entered the interview room. McBiggles turned up the heating on the wall thermostat. "No matter how hot you feel constable, just keep quiet and reframe from making any oh it's hot gestures. Now go and get him."
The interview commenced once more; this time Fast Eddie had slumped back into his chair and taken a defensive arms-folded position. Indeed he had something to hide, but it was to be expected; after all he was as guilty as Flufikins the pussy in a flowerpot calamity. The tension grew and grew over the next hour and things began to look grim for Eddie. McBiggles had taken to a new tactic. He paced around the interview room while asking questions (WPC Tire remained seated) by the time he finished each question, he was standing right next door to Eddie, remaining in the confines of his intimate sphere so as to invade his personal space until he answered. From time to time Eddie would make a 'collar pull' gesture, a classic sign of deceit. That's what he had seen earlier when Eddie had nipped it in the bud. Turing up the heating had made it much harder for Eddie to resist the temptation to relieve the clammy feeling around his neck that results from telling so many lies. (I told you those boys in blue were clever didn't I!)
Eddie was clearly buckling under the pressure as McBiggles reclaimed his seat. The questions kept coming; McBiggles clung to the end of every answer never giving Eddie the time to relax. Then it came: a sweet, sweet contradiction to one of Eddie's earlier answers. Ooops, the PC plod's got me now mused Eddie.
The result of Eddies' slip of the tongue was cooperation, after a little protest that is. His body language was quite different once he started to cooperate. He was leaning forward in his seat with arms folded on the edge of the table (defensive) as he answered each question. Thanks to McBiggles' interrogation skills, the gang was apprehended, the money was recovered, and the garage responsible for the get-a-way car (a suped-up Skoda) was closed down.
Have you ever wondered how police investigators seem to have a 'sixth sense' in matters of honesty? They know when the suspect is being dishonest, and the truth seldom waits for breakfast. (=Cold porridge and sugarless gnat's tea - or so they tell me.) Our Boys in Blue use a series of progressive interrogation techniques that exploit human behaviour when the going gets tough. Some crooks (usually the ones who've been interrogated before) are capable of suppressing or controlling their body language, but when pressure is applied over prolonged periods this becomes increasingly difficult. As they bend and buckle under the strain of interrogation, signs of deceit surface.
This doesn't mean the fuzz have the crooks cold - far from it. The investigators see the crooks are withholding information, so they squeeze harder, eventually he or she cracks. When depends on the crook's resilience to the applied mental pressure - it's just a matter of time.
This month our Bodyspy is Detective Sergeant McBiggles, who's been assigned as chief of staff for the bungled bank robbery on Regent Street, Soho...
"Did you get him constable?"
"Yeah Guv, we got him alright."
"Any sign of the get-a-way car?"
"Nah, it disappeared down Beak Street with Fast Eddie in tow. We only got him 'cause Betty Jobbins saw him coming and tied a stocking round the lamp post outside her parlour door. She pulled it tight as Eddie ran past. You should have seen him gulpin' at her in undies - with plenty showing - as he flew through the air and landed flat on his face."
"What about the dough?"
"Oh yeah, they got the dough alright, or 1.6 million of it. It would have been a clean get-a-way if Eddy hadn't dropped his sack and stopped to scoop it up as he sped towards the get-a-way car. They got edgy and drove off as Billy Busker beat him about the head with his fiddle stick. He grabbed the sack and ran, only to be apprehended by Betty's ingenuity."
"OK constable, I think I've got the gist. When are you bringing him in?"
"Oh, we're just mopping up now. We'll be back at HQ in twenty minutes."
"I want the hussy and the fiddler for questioning too."
"OK Guv, we've got the fiddler here, but Betty's gone back to work."
"Well, get her off the job and down here fast!"
"Yes Guv." The radio crackled and went dead.
Latter, back at the nick, "You do not have to say anything." Voiced McBiggles huskily to Fast Eddie, "But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court." Eddie sloped back in his chair, lifted up his right leg and rested a Dr Marten on the interview room table where he now sat opposite McBiggles and WPC Tire. To complete his carefree gesture he placed his hands behind his head. McBiggles noted his nonverbal challenge and continued, "Anything you do say may be given in evidence."
Having finished reading his caution to this cocky pizza-faced git opposite him, McBiggles lent forward and pushed his boot off the interview table. Eddie jerked forward as his leg fell to the floor and then slouched back in his chair once more taking up the hands behind the head position. McBiggles choose to let his gesture ride. Questioning began, but Eddie was feeling none too informative.
The questioning continued as McBiggles found himself tiring from Eddie's defensive backchat and constant display of the nonverbal challenge. McBiggles sloped back in his chair, placed his hands behind the head to mirror Eddie's stance. This obviously agitated Eddie (it was intended to) as he once more placed a Dr Marten on the table. McBiggles immediately broke his gesture, lent forward and pushed Eddie's boot off the edge. Again Eddie Jerked forward and then slouched back in his chair, this time crossing his arms (defensive). Ahh, mused McBiggles, Mr Fuzz one, 'Fast' food face nil! Questioning continued.
With each question Eddie came back with a flawless defensive answer, sometimes leaning his head forward as he did so to reinforce his words. WPC Tire sat at the table like a dummy, not being able to get a word in edgeways, her plump belly resting on the table. Eddie felt like singing the lyrics of that popular Ian Dury and The Blockheads song 'Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick' (for those of you who are too young to remember: "hit me with your rhythm stick, two fat persons click click click, hit me, hit meeee..." sorry I got carried away there), but didn't dare do so. The interesting thing was that Eddie's head was tilted slightly to the left side throughout most of the interview. Being a Bodyspy McBiggles knew why. Eddie's head position was one of 'interest', it showed he was listening carefully to every word in order to maintain consistent answers with no hint of contradiction. He was a tough nut to crack.
McBiggles had wanted to nick Eddie ever sine the burglary on Toff's Jewellers on Cavendish Street; there just wasn't enough evidence to do so. That's when he'd earned the name 'Fast' for outrunning PC Longlegs. Indeed, you may ask whose legs are longest. The answer is Longlegs, but Eddie was still faster. As the pace of questioning quickened and the pressure on Eddie grew, McBiggles noted what he thought to be the beginnings of a hand to face gesture, but Eddie quickly nipped it in the bud. Ahh, weakening at last thought McBiggles while feeling his tummy rumbling for Mrs Sweet's sticky buns. After seeing this his first thought was to push on, but hell, he needed a hot mug of coffee and a bun. Besides, he had an idea he wanted to put into action.
So McBiggles and WPC Tire strolled off to the Police canteen while Eddie had to be content to sip another cup of gnat's pee from the stiff boards of his cell bed. WPC Tire - strangely enough - became disconcerted as she was called to the Police radio to relieve the duty sergeant who'd slipped out for a call of nature. She arrived back at the canteen just in time to witness McBiggles stuffing the remainder of his last bun into his mouth (one was never enough) as he jumped to his feet; flecks of saliva danced on his lips. WPC Tire saw the plate of sticky buns on the canteen counter and ran her tongue around her chops. "Right, let's see if we can slacken off Eddie's jaw bones shell we constable?" said McBiggles rubbing his hands to lose the remaining sugar. Inconsiderate Bun-hog mused WPC Tire.
They entered the interview room. McBiggles turned up the heating on the wall thermostat. "No matter how hot you feel constable, just keep quiet and reframe from making any oh it's hot gestures. Now go and get him."
The interview commenced once more; this time Fast Eddie had slumped back into his chair and taken a defensive arms-folded position. Indeed he had something to hide, but it was to be expected; after all he was as guilty as Flufikins the pussy in a flowerpot calamity. The tension grew and grew over the next hour and things began to look grim for Eddie. McBiggles had taken to a new tactic. He paced around the interview room while asking questions (WPC Tire remained seated) by the time he finished each question, he was standing right next door to Eddie, remaining in the confines of his intimate sphere so as to invade his personal space until he answered. From time to time Eddie would make a 'collar pull' gesture, a classic sign of deceit. That's what he had seen earlier when Eddie had nipped it in the bud. Turing up the heating had made it much harder for Eddie to resist the temptation to relieve the clammy feeling around his neck that results from telling so many lies. (I told you those boys in blue were clever didn't I!)
Eddie was clearly buckling under the pressure as McBiggles reclaimed his seat. The questions kept coming; McBiggles clung to the end of every answer never giving Eddie the time to relax. Then it came: a sweet, sweet contradiction to one of Eddie's earlier answers. Ooops, the PC plod's got me now mused Eddie.
The result of Eddies' slip of the tongue was cooperation, after a little protest that is. His body language was quite different once he started to cooperate. He was leaning forward in his seat with arms folded on the edge of the table (defensive) as he answered each question. Thanks to McBiggles' interrogation skills, the gang was apprehended, the money was recovered, and the garage responsible for the get-a-way car (a suped-up Skoda) was closed down.
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