I paid a visit to the newsagents on Poulton Road, Wallasey this morning. On my way there I heard someone over the road shout, “Twat…!!”.
My first thought was, is this someone from Wirral Council who’s recognised me? But no, looking up I saw a blonde kid across the road, sprinting back up the street, the way I’d came. Then came the screech of tyres as a police car pulled up a few yards away to intercept him.
This suspect was fast and disappeared into the front garden of one of the detached houses, leapt over the fence and was then into the back garden, out of sight, and making his escape. The chasing police officer was left standing.
I then continued to the shop. Whilst in the shop I noticed how the air was filling with sirens …which got louder and louder as they approached.
Five minutes later, I was on the way back and noticed how many police cars had turned up… at least four, a big yellow camera van, more on the way, and the area was swarming with uniformed officers. It had turned into some sort of incident zone.
As I ambled up the street, making my way through circling, uniformed officers and amidst the gathering crowd of onlookers, the air filled with shouts. It seemed the kid had somehow doubled back and had re-emerged from the garden he’d first escaped into.
Now, I don’t know what the crime was. It may have been serious, but if it was theft, robbery or a burglary, I doubt that the sum stolen would have amounted to £736,756.97. I’ll come back to this point a bit later.
The kid legged it up Deveraux Drive and turned right into the first entry, pursued by about half a dozen coppers.
If the alleyway gates had been locked he would have been cornered immediately. But they weren’t, so on he went, left and all the way up the much longer entry dividing Deveraux Drive, left, and Annesley Road, right.
And that’s where my part in this ends. The coppers emerged from here empty-handed because the kid must have scaled an 8 foot garden wall and made his escape through somebody’s property and out into either Annesley Road or Deveraux Drive further up. Maybe they nabbed him later, maybe they didn’t. But he was like shit off a shovel, powered by adrenaline, and the coppers had their work cut out, it has to be said.
Now let’s come back to that sum of money I mentioned earlier. The money was taken over a period of NINE years and amounted to £735,736.97. If a thorough inquiry had been mounted, this would in reality have exceeded £1 million.
The money was unlawfully removed by Wirral Council officers from the bank accounts of learning disabled people who lived in three of Wirral Council’s supported living accommodations in Moreton. These people were all Angela Eagle MP’s constituents.
The council officers who took the money knew what they were doing was unlawful but continued doing it anyway, presumably because they perceived that they were protected from above.
Two of the prominent people unlawfully taking this money were Maura Noone and Mike Fowler, senior persons in Wirral Council’s Department of Adult Social Services.
Social Servies whistleblower Martin Morton did the right thing and reported the theft (and much more involving abuse, alleged rape and a death) to not only his employer, but to the Audit Commission. The two officers were suspended but later reinstated.
Later, much later, an external investigator, Anna Klonowski, found that the pair had been involved in the theft of this money. Another external investigator, Martin Smith, found Martin had been bullied by managers, mobbed and forced out of his job.
Most right thinking people would regard this theft as a serious, high level crime, one for which the perpetrators should have been arrested, charged, tried and if found guilty, then sent to prison for a long time.
But this didn’t happen. Although Martin reported it to the police, they said it was “too difficult”. So rather than facing justice, Fowler and Noone were:
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paid off £110,000 each
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gagged inside compromise agreements, as was their employer
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permitted to leave just days before the release of the full Anna Klonowski Report
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granted clean bills of health should they wish to seek re-employment in the future
If they had still been employed when the Klonowski report was released just days later, they would have had to face justice and accountability. But this was where then CEO Jim Wilkie stepped in. He was the person who gave them the facility of leaving and dodging ALL accountability.
We spotted in 2012 that there was a potential safeguarding disaster in the making should either of these people be employed in a senior caring position in the future. This has now happened.
Fowler has a senior job at the Brook Young People charity.
But worse, Noone is the new Interim Head of Adult Social Care at Reading Council.
The following links have the full history:
1 An emergency safeguarding message has been left with our representative on Wirral Council, Seacombe Councillor Adrian Jones – 4th June 2018
2 The causal link between a Wirral Council failure and a safeguarding emergency – 5th June 2018
3 Safeguarding Emergency. An updating email to Councillor Jo Lovelock, Leader of Reading Council – 13th June 2018
4 Reading Council latest. We hate saying “We told you so…” but… – 14th June 2018
5 It looks like holding Wirral and Reading Councils to account is not going to be easy
6 Reading Council latest. The emergency safeguarding situation. Here’s some “Private Eye” cuttings.
7 Thousands endangered in Reading. Here’s the FOI request spelling it all out. Yet still… Wirral Council FAILED
8 It’s “Wirral In It Together” ……as the Wirral Tory Leader closes ranks to march in step with his Labour chums
9 Reading Council Safeguarding emergency. Confirmation of Noone and Fowler’s compromise agreements
10 Our local councillor Adrian Jones washes his hands of Wirral Council abuse, then passes the buck to Reading Council
Finally…
When you consider there were five police cars and a van, and around a dozen officers, we wonder how much the above incident will end up costing Merseyside Police (council tax payers) this morning? Even the 10 or 15 minute interval that we managed to witness will not come cheap… and don’t get us wrong, we’re not saying we shouldn’t pursue all crimes as and when they occur.
The whole thing may have continued for another hour until the suspect was apprehended. Yet more costly resources may have been called into action.
In summary, our question is: why do we lavish huge amounts of money and pull out all the stops to arrest and try petty crooks when there have been protected thieves, such as Wirral Council’s Noone and Fowler, cemented in, financially abusing vulnerable, disabled people who are supposed to be statutorily protected within our legislation?
We get the firm impression that some types of crime – although they run into the many millions of pounds stolen – are deliberately written off because they would cost too much to pursue, and those involved in perpetrating them KNOW they are protected because even if they’re “caught”, they can relax and pick up a top job somewhere else.
All the evidence we’ve gathered over the years points to this.
What do you think?
Wirral In It Together 
Excellent report. Keep up your good work.
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The Police Service throughout Britain has become a haven for skivers. Worse, it’s lead by incompetent bungling idiots who’ve never walked in the shoes of those on the front line and are so detached from reality they’ve no real understanding that people, normal salt of the earth people want to support them but cannot any longer see the point in bothering to understand why they can deploy dozens of officers to chase a young kid but can’t be arsed to attend a burglary.
The answer of course to halt their slide toward even faster distant policing is to be bloody awkward and not comply with their telephone recording of the incident or crime you wish to report to them.
To fuck it all up, you simply phone them, tell them who you are, tell them what you are reporting, give them your name, address and phone number and tell them that you’ll provide all the other stuff for their computer generated incident when an officer can be arsed to pop round.
Believe me, this does fuck it all up because while you’ve been wailing and moaning telling them that some twat has tippy toed into your house and stolen your bestest sunday Tea Service, they’ve begun a record and those ‘fields’ have to be completed before they can close it up and then tell you to detect it yourself.and piss off. It works because I’ve done it.
Me best has been when I reported me bloody shed being burgled. They wouldn’t attend. Nobody available. I lied and told then there were two fella’s in me shed. Still wouldn’t attend. Nobody available.
So, I,put the phone down, gave it a couple of minutes, phoned the Police back and told them, ‘I’m the fella who’s just phoned you about me shed’. They said, ‘we can’t attend were to busy’. I said, ‘I understand. Don’t worry yourselves. I’ve sorted it out. I’ve just shot them’ and then I put the phone down.
Within a few minutes me house was surrounded by them. Uniform, dog handlers, the sound of a helicopter and shouts of ‘come outside straight away’. After searching me shed for two shot bodies they quickly realised that I was a twat. After advising me about wasting their time and lying to them they reluctantly agreed that they’d also lied by telling me they were to busy and nobody was available to sort me shed out.
Problem is, the Police nowadays are only interested in the interesting stuff and creating their own street theatre. The reality is crime, the sort of crime most of us encounter isn’t very interesting. It’s boring as fuck and they don’t want to bother with it. And it’s this reason that this young child was chased around the Town probably for an aggravated offence of scrumping.
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I saw a scene like this the other day and assumed it was something serious like a murder. Instead it was very much a copper after a scally and calling for back up which arrived in droves.
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And when my car got damaged – both wing mirrors smashed – the cops at Wallasey asked me to scour local cctv and do house to house enquiries. I kid ye not.
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All I’m saying is the Police have lost their way. Instead of worrying themselves about me and the lads falling out of an ale house after an afternoon session and lovingly calling a lady, ‘love’, ‘darling’, ‘chuck’ or ‘duck’ or whistling our approval at the magnificence of them being bloody female, they’re set up and designed to stop me and the lads attacking them with a butter knife or worse stubbing me bloody cigarette on the pavement and saying something that implies to them that we’re in need of a detention under the provisions of the bloody Mental Health Act. They seem to think that for every moment they’re on duty there are tens of thousands of us out there desperately intent on causing them harm. They won’t talk to you anymore!
The consequence to this mindset is that there barely able to get out of their cars and walk about because of the huge weight that’s dangling from their utility belt or their stab proof shell. They can’t walk upright anymore because of the weight. It can’t be unlike being required to lug about to giant sacks of spuds you’ve just harvested from your local allotment.
They’ve got their radio, their first aid kit, the bundles of tickets that can be issued whenever and wherever we’ve carried out some sin, the bloody long armed baton, the side arm baton, the gas canister, the dreadful taser designed to make you ride the lightening bolt as fifty thousand volts thrust their way through your ravaged limp body and into the good earth after they’ve decided that you are an awkward twat and you might be capable of displaying defiance and shouting ‘fuck off. I’ve had enough’. And it that’s not enough, after you’ve been beaten with an array of batons, gassed, electrocuted and handcuffed, in case you spit or wriggle about in the back of the van, they wrap you up in a ‘wrap blanket’, pop an anti phlegm mask on your confused cranium and remove you from society because you are a twat who simply wanted to chat, have a giggle and make your way home to face the horrors of being married to a woman who, when she glares at you and threatens you with her frying pan, you want to crawl into a corner, get into the foetal position and pray for an early death.
And the new generation of recruits all seem much the same. They all want to be stars in their very own movie of life in the eye of a blue light chase that’ll give them the chance to shine and display an ability to use the kit that’s completely responsible for their lower back disc pain and the debilitating sciatica that can only be erased from their minds when they’re given the opportunity to beat you senseless or better still, gas and subject you to electrocution. Talk to people, it’s easy. It’s simple and it’s perfectly natural!
Nowadays, once or twice a year they’ll pop on some pink lipstick, shake hands with a homeless street beggar before burning his cardboard box into ashes, wear some high heels, dance to an LBGT anthem and then revert back to their nature and character, a collection of odd individuals who were once bullied at school.
Give me a thief taker. Give me a tall intimidating bastard blessed with simple common sense who lives in my community, cares about my community and ain’t interested in subjecting me to a society riddled with hurdles and pitfalls designed to buggar up all our young people who’ll be very fortunate to reach middle age and not have their DNA and fingerprints stored on a database at New Scotland Yard.
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Wirral crimes in the spotlight…
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