Dear investigating officer

Dear Investigating Officer

I hate to bother you as you worry about whatever it is you worry about, as you tuck into your Kenflucky Flied Chiggen. I don't mean to ask you, for the eight - or is it now the ninth time - if you have managed to even get off your chair and engage with us.

I'm not sure what the progress of my THREE cases with you is. The last time I checked you told me that unless I know "who the culprit is, we can not give it to an investigating officer" after you closed the first case. I know the second time you assumed that the fingerprint division was on off for the weekend, so the first chance you had at getting hard evidence was spoiled because you decided that it could wait. *sigh*

In all the spare time I have waiting for you, I though I might take the trouble to find out the meaning of the word "investigation" for you because I believe that the trainers at the Police College may well have forgotten that in your glossary of terms. But as I did my research I discovered what the problem is. I now think I can definitively declare it. You see Mr Officer, and investigation is defined as "the work of inquiring into something thoroughly and systematically". I think systematic and thorough are well covered by the tedious protocol you use to take my statement. It's the work that gets you, isn't it? The seriousness of the crime just does not warrant the effort does it?

You see, Mr Investigating officer, I was under the impression that my hard earned tax money meant that you are actually a public servant, and you should serve me and the rest of those hurt directly or indirectly by the criminal activities around us. I wonder, will someone have to die before you start to investigate?

Anyway - I'm done talking to a disembodied voice on the other side of the phone. I just thought I would write a little public letter - for my friends (who also contribute to your salary). Tomorrow, I will bring the witnesses to you. Maybe you can do your job. Maybe you can't.

Right now - I don't think you give a fuck about me. But I also think you couldn't be arsed about the people that would definitely suffer if we decided to say: "To hell with it - we're going to rather employ the fruits of our labour elsewhere!" Your failure to care just a little bit, Mr Officer, might just mean that one day soon, the 130 people or so that work here with me will no longer be able to feed, clothe and house the over 300 people that depend on them!

So, thanks for nothing - so far! We hope that we can crack the case ourselves.

Blooms that sould beat (some sense into you!)