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How To Spot A Paedophile In The Park

YOU join us in Telford town park, Shropshire, where a man is striding out across the open space. A park ranger approaches…

RANGER: “Excuse me, Sir…”
MAN: “Ye-es…”
RANGER: “ARE YOU A PAEDOPHILE…”

The Mirror does not take the conversation any further.

All we say is that if a man wants to wear five-inch high heels on his boots, a silver sequinned jumpsuit and a large expanse of jet black wig hair and asks kids if they want to be in his gang, then who are we to judge?

Paedos come in many guises. As the Mirror says, they could be giant penguins, envious of the attention polar bears get:

Rachel Whittaker and Neil Donaldson were thrown out of Telford town park in Shropshire, as they handed out climate change leaflets while dressed as penguins.

What say the bigwigs?

David Ottley, of Telford and Welkin Council, wrote saying: “Our town park staff approach adults are not associated with any children and request the reason for them being there.”

Says Councillor Denis Allen:

“Our staff are asked to approach adults without children, using their own judgment and discretion. We have a duty of care to children.”

So adults are being asked why they are walking across the park by other adults, whose duty it is to watch and adults less they mess with children, who are at home playing on their games stations and taking recreational drugs, which is much safer…

Picture

Anorak

Posted: 10th, September 2008 | In: Police Log, Tabloids Comments (10) | Follow the Comments on our RSS feed: RSS 2.0 | TrackBack | Permalink

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chenier says:
September 11th, 2008 at 12:20 am

I grant you that Anokra may well be on the cutting edge there, but mano e mano on the Dictionary may not really fit the gap…

Probably because nobody understand what it means…

Percy Stilton says:
September 11th, 2008 at 12:12 am

hey chenier ,cheer up ..we have always got the War on Words…..

chenier says:
September 10th, 2008 at 9:55 pm

Promising, though I’m in favour of adding more caffeine to the mix; wouldn’t want the Scientologists to hold back progress.

But we would still be left with a yawning gap on the Moral Panic legislation; if the pols can’t terrorise us with the thoughts of paedos roamimg the land they will have to find something else to whip up the hysteria.

We’ve done the War on Terror, and we’ve done the War on Drugs, and the promising newcomer, the War on the Large Hadron Collider, doesn’t seem to be hacking it so far.

A bit of a dilemna, all in all…

magnetite says:
September 10th, 2008 at 9:39 pm

I propose then mandatory kid-hamster wheels in each home with children, and a breakneck building programme of kid-hamster-wheel filled power stations (they could be called powerhouses or something. Powerworks, maybe? Work-somethings?) supplying those household with no loinfuit of their own, and Gary Glitter’s house. It’d be like a modern-day Oliver..

“Please sir, can I have some more?”
“What do you think I am boy? Made of Red Bull? Back to your wheel.”

chenier says:
September 10th, 2008 at 8:59 pm

One small problem; bugger all coal.

We have wood, but those namby-pamby treehuggers would chain themselves to the objects of their affections, and we couldn’t use a power saw on the chains, or indeed the trees, because the energy companies have decided that as they are brands they should diversify into not selling energy any more .

Other than that it’s a great idea…

magnetite says:
September 10th, 2008 at 8:47 pm

I have no idea how one would dress to best attract an unsuspecting likkle victim, but presumably a disguise of a huge bottle of white cider, walking bag of crack or the Stabby McSwitchblade knife costume that’s been gathering dust at the back of the local joke shop for years would be better than penguin suits. If left unmolested(ha!) by park staff, these two campaigners would have been hoisted aloft by a feral gang and chucked into the pond (as long as it hadn’t been filled in with something safe like upholstery foam after safety numbnuts raised their panicky shrill voices against all that dangerous water) just to see if the one educated one amongst them was right when he said they were “fuggin’ good swimmas, innit”

This is what we get for royally f**king up Ellen Key’s idea of the century of the child. 2001 came around and we realised we couldn’t start shoving them up chimneys again, so we kept running with the ball past the goalposts, out of the grounds and into bloody madness. Personally I’m all for the return of the little human chimney sweep. It’ll keep them off the streets and no-one’s going to climb up a sooty flue after them, no matter how badly they want to get thjer perverted talons on ‘em.