What to do with drunks out in public spaces

Hams said :

That makes me curious what you did for the Police to pick you out of the thousands of people in town, (I am assuming this happened in Civic), to harrass for 10 minutes, and why you didn’t just walk away.
If they weren’t going to arrest you they wouldn’t have chased you if you left.

Nah, both times in Belco. One, I accept, there had been some sort of an incident at a house and someone in my group decided to introduce his rear-end from the alley next-door to one of their torchlights as they were searching the backyard. But for a while, it seemed that if you were walking home from anywhere in belconnen that they’d stop you and ask you for ID in the light-industrial area.

I blame pink polos

disorderly conduct offence (maybe should have been clearer) – there are no consequences for being a wanker on the piss. Have a good night just don’t mess everyone elses up.

Special G said :

Any pollies reading this – make some notes and make it happen.

Sorry – make what happen?

Most people in civic get themselves locked up for the night as they are drunk and disorderly. There being no other reasonable option for the police. Seems that every other state (inc NT) has a disorderly conduct charge adding a fine into the mix for acting like a tard on the piss. It’s probably against someones human rights or something in the ACT for such a thing to happen.

Any pollies reading this – make some notes and make it happen.

Saw some drunk wanker in Tuggeranong this arvo near Brothers Oven, abusing some Woolworths workers…. this dude had had a skinfull, was clutching some bottles. Was abusing the crap out of the young lads, threatening them etc. He was in the middle of the road, oblivious to traffc etc.

Maybe he was kicked out of Woolies and he saw them later? Dunno what the background was.

Sad thing was that he had his partner/wife and young kid with him, who were just quietly standing by the side of the Hyperdome. Poor kid growing up with a father role model like that.

Wish some coppers would have been around to haul his drunk arse off…

I just had a run in with a drunk lady screaming abuse at Hawker shops, telling me that i am indicating wrong when i was parking ( apparently there is another way that i dont know about ). She could barely walk in a straight line with bottle in one hand and shopping in the other and as she stumbled away i was amazed that she got into the drivers seat of maroon camry (?) and attempted to drive off, which she managed to do badly (only hit the gutter twice).

She was obviously happy that she got the last word in, but i got her number plate. I hope to see you again miss YGF-75P and we can have a chat about manners.

Bungle said :

I remember years ago crossing Northbourne Ave after a big night – it was daylight. The poppies were all out in a display and as we walked past a guy popped his head out of the flowers, realised where he was, got up and started walking towards the bus interchange.

Maybe we could turn we could have an area, like the middle of Northbourne or Glebe Park, where people can go and sleep it off. You could put a nice bed of flowers down there to keep it comfy.

I did this just yesterday, in fact, Bungle.

For some days I have been suffering at the hands of an evil-minded virus with a lust for revenge. However, I had been feeling decidedly improved and was leaning towards taking a chipper and optimistic view of the situation specifically and life generally.

Next morning I awoke and realised that, heavens to murgatroyd, I did not feel so good. As I lay there, groaning inwardly, I could only feel grateful that I had nowhere to go and nothing to do. I could stay home and sleep the jolly thing off. Bliss!

Then, like a herald of doom, the phone rang. I would have waited for the whole thing to go away. My preschooler, with all the joy and enthusiasm of one who has just discovered this technological marvel, raced to answer it.

“Hello!” she said, “Mummy’s asleep.” Then Quackers grabbed the handset. “Hello,” she chirped. Then, “Mum! Mum! Mum! Mum! Mum!”

It turned out my grandson had had an accident and his head was bleeding! “Tell her I’ll be right there!” I cried, jumping out of bed like a tased wombat and throwing on something resembling an outfit.

I raced off with, for all I knew, my grandson’s life blood ebbing away with each passing second only to be stuck behind a vehicle inexplicably doing 40k in the 60 zone. Did this person even have a licence, I had to wonder?

I arrived! My grandson bounced around me ineffably like a small puppy, no worse for wear except for a slight sticky patch in his hair. He looked pretty good to me, but my daughter burst into tears so I thought better of mentioning it. We loaded up the car and headed off to the torture from hell that is the Ginninderra Medical Centre.

I glanced in the mirror at my horrified reflection. “I need makeup … now!” I screeched and went for my cosmetics. At the last second I changed my mind and decided to make a mad dash for the toilet. Bundling everything into my bag I locked all the doors and went inside.

We waited. And waited some more. And just for the hell of it we waited a bit longer.

“There are only 19 people in front of you,” my daughter was informed an hour and a quarter later. By this stage I was really feeling like I needed to lie down.

“I’m just going back to the car to rest for a while,” I said, and went to the carpark. I rummaged in my bag for my keys, and rummaged some more. I pulled everything out. I put everything back in. I peered through the window. And there were my keys. I tried all the doors. I swore. I called in my troubleshooter. “Help!” I yelled.

“I’ll sort it out,” he promised, taking it all in his usual stride. Forty-five minutes later he called me. “I’m having some trouble finding the street,” he said. We found out where we were and let him know. “I’ll wait outside,” I told my daughter. He must be close now. I rang him again, only to discover that I had misunderstood and he had only needed the information for the NRMA. I was hungry. I was tired. I was sick. I absolutely hate waiting around like the plague. Worst of all, I needed a coffee! “Right! Well you have a nice day,” I said sarcastically in my worst bad Granny voice, and hung up.

Darn, I was having a bad day.

But the sun was shining, and the grassy nature strip was studded with little yellow daisies.

“That does it!” I thought, and lay down in the sunshine. It felt pretty darn good actually.

Just then a lady pulled up with a small child. “Are you alright?” she asked, but I was too embarrassed to answer and couldn’t have explained if I’d wanted. Which I didn’t, because I was having a very bad day.

Then the questions started:

What’s wrong with her, Mum?
I don’t know.
Nothing.
Is she dead?
Ssssssh. I don’t think so.
IS SHE DEAD?
I don’t know. NO.

Just then my phone rang and I sat up to answer it, like the great undead rising from the daisy patch.

It was my daughter. I had missed the NRMA man with all my lazing about, but he had mistaken her for me and let her into my car and given her my keys.

I didn’t care.

Off into the horizon I drove in search of coffee and lunch and a better life ahead. Over lunch I received another phone call. “How did you get on?” he said cheerily, completely unperturbed by my previous scathing manner. “Oh good,” I said, “I’ve just had the best cheesecake.”

It is odd how something as simple and pleasant as lying in the sunshine among the flowers has become so completely socially unacceptable.

Will I do it again?

Somebody stop me!!

*heh heh heh*

Tracker said :

Hah, a ‘drunkard recovery centre’ in the middle of the city – that’s hilarious.

You’re right – the last thing we need is another Legislative Assembly…

Hah, a ‘drunkard recovery centre’ in the middle of the city – that’s hilarious.

I can only think of maybe 100 reasons why it couldn’t happen, but that doesn’t make the idea any less funny 🙂

Maybe all the cops on here have sent around DMD’s photo on their most wanted list.

I remember years ago crossing Northbourne Ave after a big night – it was daylight. The poppies were all out in a display and as we walked past a guy popped his head out of the flowers, realised where he was, got up and started walking towards the bus interchange.

Maybe we could turn we could have an area, like the middle of Northbourne or Glebe Park, where people can go and sleep it off. You could put a nice bed of flowers down there to keep it comfy.

That makes me curious what you did for the Police to pick you out of the thousands of people in town, (I am assuming this happened in Civic), to harrass for 10 minutes, and why you didn’t just walk away.
If they weren’t going to arrest you they wouldn’t have chased you if you left.

Hams said :

Deadmandrinking. The Police do try to find alternative ways to get people home rather than taking them to the Watch house. Their are more people that get put in taxis, have the Police find their friends for them, get taken to the Sobering up shelter in Ainslie than their are that end up in the Watch house.
Of course that applies to happy drunks, if you are violent or aggressive you don’t leave the Police many options.
You also have to consider the Police officers duty of care. If the drunk assaults the taxi driver, gets run over or goes home and chokes on his own vomit it will be the last copper who spoke to him that will be found responsible for it.

Never did that with me! Bastards! Didn’t chuck me in the watch-house either. Just harassed me for about 10 mins. Several times this has happened, I might ad.

I can’t even bear to look!

They should give ’em one of these.

Deadmandrinking. The Police do try to find alternative ways to get people home rather than taking them to the Watch house. Their are more people that get put in taxis, have the Police find their friends for them, get taken to the Sobering up shelter in Ainslie than their are that end up in the Watch house.
Of course that applies to happy drunks, if you are violent or aggressive you don’t leave the Police many options.
You also have to consider the Police officers duty of care. If the drunk assaults the taxi driver, gets run over or goes home and chokes on his own vomit it will be the last copper who spoke to him that will be found responsible for it.

I think we should just leave drunks to their own devices, who are we to interfere with Darwins Theory!

Having been kept overnight for being slightly intoxicated in public i can say it’s really not that much of a deterrent to not do it again, no one thought less of me for it, most people actually thought it was pretty funny.

The upside of it all was at 3 am when I got picked up it would have cost me $50 to catch a taxi home, but instead I had a nap on a nice plastic mattress, got woken up when it was time to leave, and caught a bus home for $2.

Deadmandrinking said :

johnboy said :

I think the social stigma of waking up in a cell is important.

But police should, on this matter, be shielded from complaints by the fools they’ve been protecting.

The social victory, dude!

Seriously, it is a necessary thing. People get drunk. Lots of people, even otherwise respectable members of society are influenced by the beer demon that wants to to have a jagerbomb. Look at the politicians in NSW…

I think, though, that the police shouldn’t be shielded from complaints when they’ve assaulted people in custody, such as the case with John Birch. If you’re being a drunk moron, which is perfectly alright (but not on my carpet), you do sometimes need somewhere to sleep it off and keep you from destroying any self-respect you had in the nightclub strip post 3am.

I do reckon though, it might help for the police to establish whether the drunk has a reasonable method of getting home before kicking them in the cells. Maybe ask if they have enough in their wallet for a taxi then escort them to the taxi rank and boot them in one. Or if they’re about 5 minutes from home walking-wise, boot them onwards.

oh, you said kick them in the CELLS…. I read THAT wrong.

Some of these drunks may have nowhere else to go.

johnboy said :

I think the social stigma of waking up in a cell is important.

But police should, on this matter, be shielded from complaints by the fools they’ve been protecting.

The social victory, dude!

Seriously, it is a necessary thing. People get drunk. Lots of people, even otherwise respectable members of society are influenced by the beer demon that wants to to have a jagerbomb. Look at the politicians in NSW…

I think, though, that the police shouldn’t be shielded from complaints when they’ve assaulted people in custody, such as the case with John Birch. If you’re being a drunk moron, which is perfectly alright (but not on my carpet), you do sometimes need somewhere to sleep it off and keep you from destroying any self-respect you had in the nightclub strip post 3am.

I do reckon though, it might help for the police to establish whether the drunk has a reasonable method of getting home before kicking them in the cells. Maybe ask if they have enough in their wallet for a taxi then escort them to the taxi rank and boot them in one. Or if they’re about 5 minutes from home walking-wise, boot them onwards.

watch out, Katy will create a drunk tank in TCH, next to the children’s area in the ED….

Good call JB. I am sure that police have better things to do than look after people who believe the best result of night out is to either be completely drunk and soil their pants.

Aurelius said :

Maybe the hippies can be delegated to dance them away?

I couldnt agree more Aurelius 🙂

I think the social stigma of waking up in a cell is important.

But police should, on this matter, be shielded from complaints by the fools they’ve been protecting.

Maybe the hippies can be delegated to dance them away?