Surrey Police on tour to Toxteth 1981
Alan Bridgman: Recent reports in Old and Bold have reminded me of Toxteth in 1981, which I visited with an untrained PSU from Dorking in July of that year. I was a patrol sergeant at Dorking, and had just started my week of earlies. The TV and newspapers were full of reports of rioting and disorder in Brixton, and some apparent copycat behaviour in Toxteth, Liverpool, as well as in Reading, Wolverhampton and Birmingham. We were all interested in such reports, which made quiet old Dorking seem all the more attractive as a place of work. I worked a 9-5 on Friday, 10th July, and returned happily home to Farnham, where I seemed to be living “without lawful authority”. This was of course long before the force adopted the practice of not caring where anyone lived, as long as they turned up for duty on time.
I was phoned at home that night, and told to report for duty at Dorking by 0930 the next morning, with a weekend bag packed. It was something to do with the rioting which had broken out in the land. I made the professional assessment that Surrey Police was due to provide Mutual Aid to our neighbours in the Met, only ten miles distant from Dorking. I was happy to go, since the project appeared to offer interest, excitement – and overtime! On arrival at the nick I found a gang of about eight PCs gathered, each having received the same order as myself. We embussed in the Divisional minibus, and prior to leaving for HQ I checked that each PC was in possession of full uniform, change of clothes, and appointments, i.e. truncheon and handcuffs. Everyone was, except dear young 976 Jones, who had neither cuffs nor stick. “Will we need them Sarge?” quoth he. “We are going to a riot Jones!” I replied, much to the amusement of his colleagues. He rapidly debussed and retrieved his armaments, and then we were off to HQ, where we managed to embus on a 52 seat coach, together with PSUs from Guildford and Leatherhead. I reassured my mildly worried young PCs that we were going most likely to somewhere around Twickenham, to permit the Met to regroup and overcome the troublemakers in Brixton. I was surprised when ACC Atkins got on the coach, and wished us all well on our travels to – what was that he said? – Toxteth? And then he was gone, and we were off, up the M1 in a northerly direction, heading for Liverpool. I had visited this city several times before, en route to the TT Races, and had not been greatly impressed by its levels of hospitality. The coach arrived at Burtonwood Services on the M62 at 1700, where it was met by a local Traffic car, and guided at an impressive turn of speed to Admiral Street Police Station. Here we all debussed, and were served a meal of highly forgettable standard. The local officers we did see there all looked completely shagged out, and no wonder, since the riots had been running five days already.
At 1845 we were all seated in ST Philomena’s Church Hall, practically next door to the nick. The Mothers Union members of the church had gathered, and were enthusiastically making tea and wads for all visitors. We were glad of the opportunity to eat more food, which made up for the garbage we’d just been served at the nick. As we sat round the table drinking tea, the local vicar came and sat with us, and within seconds the erudite PC 168 O’Daly had raised the teapot, and without a hint of a smile had enquired “More tea, Vicar ?”. This was a phrase much in use in Surrey at the time, usually in response to a foul-mouthed tirade of abuse directed at the police by a drunken yobbo. How the rest of the team kept a straight face I do not know, but the vicar was pleased anyway.
At 1930 the Surrey contingent’s leader, C/I Len Rose called a briefing session. He announced that he was Green Leader; Inspector Chris Farmer was to be Green Juliet 10, and I was to be Green Juliet 12. We were to go immediately on patrol on the streets of Toxteth. At 20.00 we deployed in Sefton Park Road and Lodge Lane. I had twenty PCs with me, and I sent them out in pairs 100 yards apart in Lodge Lane, which was the central thoroughfare of Toxteth. It had obviously once been the thriving High Street of the area, but now was a destroyed battle area. Every house and shop on each side of the street had been burnt out and destroyed. Only the pubs remained standing after the rioting. Now why was that, I wondered? I instructed the PSU that they were to patrol as normal, as they would in Surrey – except that they were in pairs, with another 18 officers within sight; and should act in their normal, polite Surrey way, unless and until they met with any aggression, when they would have to respond positively, and firmly. I had one pair of Bobbies surplus to requirements, so I gave them a mission of locating a tea-stop in any of the houses still standing which might still react favourably to the sight of a police uniform. Rather to my surprise they returned after an hour, and reported “Mission Accomplished”. They led me to 7, Greenheyes Gardens, in Sefton Park Lane, where the occupants were delighted to welcome me in, and offer hot coffee, sandwiches and cakes. The neighbours from each side were present, and all of them were absolutely delighted to see patrolling policemen, so much so that they could not offer enough hospitality. I congratulated them on their kindness, and casually asked if they could spare succour for any more of the troops. “How many?” “Eighteen”. “We’ll need more bread!” A neighbour was dispatched to locate bread supplies, and I arranged a quick roster for refreshment stops for the troops. The occupants apologised for all the trouble of the week, blaming it all on unemployed youths, who had nothing to distract them from troublemaking. They didn’t have a great deal of praise for their local officers, but accepted that they had a hard job to do in Toxteth at the best of times. Their sense of reality and personal responsibility was most impressive to me; they weren’t angels, but they did recognise that the rule of law must prevail, in the interests of every individual. It was a great shame that they had to wait for their High Street to be destroyed before they actually worked that out. At 2330 I commenced patrol with Inspector Alan Tugwell, who was certainly of the right size to deal with rioters – though we didn’t actually meet any! While patrolling, and keeping a close eye on each pair of Bobbies, I noticed that a few members of the public were appearing, and walking towards the pubs. As they approached each pair of Bobbies, each civilian would appear to flinch and move away from the policemen, as if they were reacting to a threat made. I knew that none of my men would be issuing threats to people they didn’t know, so as soon as it was quiet enough, I asked each bobby what was going on. They all said the same. As a member of the public approached, they would bid them Good Evening. As soon as they did so, each civilian would flinch as if they’d been struck. When I stopped a few of these civvies myself, each one explained that in Toxteth a PC only ever spoke to you if they were nicking you. Polite greetings from PC to civilian were unheard of, - until the arrival of a Surrey Constabulary PSU!
We were relieved by “A” PSU at 0120, and returned to the church hall, for yet more tea and sarnies. Like all PSU trained officers, we tended to eat at every opportunity, whether hungry or not, since you never knew when you would next sight food. At 0215 we were back on the street in Lodge Lane, with C/I Rose in attendance. All was now quiet; rioters were clearly catching up on their beauty sleep. At 0330 we embussed at Beaumont Street, and at 0430 we arrived at Liverpool University, where we were all allocated bedrooms, and were finally able to sleep, after a working day of only nineteen hours ! We were fortunate to enjoy such civilised accommodation; the Staffordshire PSUs which arrived after us all had to sleep on the floor in a gym somewhere.
We took breakfast at 1300 on the Sunday, embussed and travelled to Admiral Street, where we were offered yet more food, before being placed on Standby. At 1830 we were back on foot patrol in Lodge Lane, with again 20 Bobbies patrolling in pairs 100 yards apart. The jungle telegraph had now worked overtime, and many more local residents were out on the street, each of them keen to approach the uniformed Bobbies, and studiously examine the badge on the helmet. As soon as they read “Surrey Constabulary”, they knew they were in safe hands, and would stop and chat quite happily. As I moved up and down the street between each pair of bobbies, I noticed a small crowd of youths, about a dozen, gathered outside the pub, listening intently to a figure in their midst, who was wearing a blue denim shirt. I recognised the figure of PC Graham Elliott. He was known to me as an inveterate joke-teller, since he was a motorcyclist, and a former soldier; he was in no danger, as I had first suspected; he was stood among a group of Toxteth’s finest youth, his helmet at his feet, his tie clipped to his shirt pocket, and he was delighted to be telling jokes to an appreciative audience. The group rocked with laughter as I watched, and he carried on telling his favourite jokes. I did not intervene, recognising that his diversion from uniform conformity was not costing him, or the local community, anything at all, and that the local youth may be learning that speaking with a policeman is not necessarily a dangerous or painful experience. We were relieved at 2325 by a Staffordshire PSU, and were back in our University rooms at 0015.
Such an early finish meant that we were up and embussed at 0730, and took breakfast at Hope Street nick before adjourning to the bar - which was of course closed! At 0905 my PSU was deployed outside the nick, since the rumour was that Prime Minister Mrs Margaret Thatcher was due to visit. A local man walked through the horde of policemen in the street, and shouted something mildly disrespectful of Mrs T. A local bobby enquired whether I would have him arrested; “No” was my response; he was the only civilian in the street, and loud though his comment had been, it had caused no distress to any of my PSU, who were the only ones to hear it. The exercise of discretion used to be such a valuable component of effective policing! At 1105 we were redeployed by coach to Derby Square, outside the Liverpool Town Hall. As we debussed, the local Chief Inspector looked at me most approvingly, and said how glad he was to have experienced Bobbies from the south available to guard the Town Hall, where Mrs T. Was ensconced. His own men had no experience of crowd control in riot situations, he said. I didn’t tell him that my men were in the same boat!
We were positioned almost opposite the Town Hall steps, down which Mrs T. Would have to come to get into her car. My line of men were stood in the kerbside of the road, facing the pavement, where was gathered a small number of middle-aged women, some of them holding placards. They would occasionally chant something like “Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, Out, Out, Out!”, but were generally perfectly pleasant and well-behaved. Amongst them stood one older woman, with a fairly dour face; she held a large bag of toffees in her hand, and chewed doggedly on one. She offered toffees to each PC within reach, and they cheerfully accepted them. I was stood in the road behind my men, scrutinising the faces of the Liverpudlian locals, in case I should need to identify any of them later. We had been in these positions for about an hour, when the old lady with the toffees looked at me directly, and said quietly “See you, I bet you’re a right bastard”. I smiled at this compliment, and we all stayed in position for another hour, while the crowd in front of us grew thicker, and noisier. The arrival of the Prime Minister’s Jaguar on the road behind us caused the crowd to become even more excited, and I instructed my men to link arms in the PSU fashion, i.e. with arms linked through the arms of the man each side and one’s hands clasped together in front of the body. This way, even if the crowd of excited old ladies forged forward, the line of PCs should hold strong. Police motorcycles in front and behind the Jaguar started engines, and obviously gave a clear signal to the crowd that Maggie was about to appear. It was over ten minutes before she actually did appear, and I only knew about it because of the roar from the crowd in front of me. It surged forward, but was efficiently restrained by the PSU line with linked arms – except for one point where an ex-soldier PC had failed to clasp his hands, and was nearly dislodged by the force of the crowd. A youth of about 18 years of age attempted to spring through the gap, his face contorted with fury, and his eyes fixed on Mrs T. I took appropriate precautionary action – and punched him in the face, which knocked him back to the pavement, and the PSU line reformed. The Jaguar sped away – very wisely, in my view – and the tension in the crowd subsided. Banners were lowered, the shouting and barracking stopped, and the crowd started to disperse. The PSU line stayed in place, and the youth I had punched reached out to shake my hand, and assure me he held no hard feelings. “Nowt so queer as folk” as they used to say, and as every experienced policeman will agree!
We were held on standby at Hope Street nick from 1500 to 20.00, and then returned to the Town Hall for street patrol, before terminating at 2300. The next morning, Tuesday July 14th, we were all back on the coach to Surrey, where it took a further two weeks to gain agreement from HQ on the hours of overtime which could be claimed. Situation normal!
Little did we realise as we served in the 1980s, protecting a Conservative PM and government, that only 30 years later another Tory PM and government would be intending to reduce the police establishment despite the fact that the population has increased to sixty million. Evidently the PM doesn’t speak with street-patrol officers – and doesn’t realise that the Home Office “experts” he does speak with, have little or no experience of policing the street!
Dick Medhurst: I spent a long weekend at Toxteth. We were told to pack an overnight bag but weren't told where we were going. I remember I only packed one pair of under pants as we were told it would be one night so I expect you can imagine how badly we all smelt after three nights. We stayed at the university and had to work a night shift as soon as we got there; the Surrey serials we sent to police the area of Lodge Lane and we were in two's, every 100yds. I remember I was with a colleague called Ken Hooper and we were to stand next to a pub I can not remember the name of it but it was the only building standing that was untouched by the desolation that surrounded it the only other thing that was left undamaged was the phone box opposite. I decided to ring my wife from the phone box and will always remember how clear the line was so I could put my wife’s mind at rest that I was ok. The Pub was closed but after standing there for an hour or so a window opened and made us jump and a deep Liverpool accent asked us what our favourite tipple was and we both replied scotch and all through the night on the hour 2 x whiskies were placed on the window sill. One humorous moment happened when our dear old inspector the late Alan Tugwell came walking up to us to have a chat and said that he could smell whiskey and of course we denied all knowledge of it and as he stood there the window opened and two scotches appeared followed by the landlord asking if we had had enough yet and Tuggy said no they haven't can you make it three please. I also remember that when the locals realised we were not the local police they were very warm and friendly towards us and would bring out tea and biscuits. I also remember the next day we were in Lodge Lane again and I had run out of cigarettes and as we were an attraction for the local kids I gave a young lad some money to go up to the shops and get me some fags, at that time a local officer had joined us and told me that it was the last I had seen of the money, but a few minutes later he was surprised to see that the lad returned with my fags and the change which I said he could keep. We also had to cordon off the crowd at the town hall when Maggie Thatcher visited the area.
Steve Gooding: That would be me then - Is it really 30 years ago near enough? Toxteth locals welcomed us onto their streets or so it seemed. Tea biscuits even cake they heard our accents and treated our lot quite well. The university lodgings were stark and I shared a room with one rookie PC by the name of Boon - Neil - a noisy night in more ways than one. On the way back we were diverted to Leicester, Charles Street nick area, where sofa's etc were being thrown out of the tower blocks. We were in those nice Bicknell Coaches and were told to be-bus with not a riot helmet between us. I was first out of the coach and at the end of the line ready to run if they came our way. A more "suitably equipped" PSU was moved in so we all did a disappearing act PDQ
1981 Surrey Constabulary support to police in Liverpool following the Toxteth riots. Chris Farmer: Another of my “battle honours”, but one that sadly only provides me with hazy memories. We were accommodated in halls of residence at the university, and operated out of the Admiral Street police station. The first night we arrived was a real eye-opener to us soft southerners, and we were stunned by the devastation visited upon the local area: most of the shops had been looted, with all their windows shattered and doors destroyed; every conceivable bit of street furniture, including paving slabs and kerbstones, ripped up or torn down to be used as missiles or implements of destruction. Litter and all kinds of rubbish lying everywhere so all in all, a thoroughly depressing place. My unit was deployed in pairs to patrol on foot in one area, which provided the only moment of light relief that I am now able to recall. I was on foot with PC 544 Mick Finch, a stalwart of the Shere Section (also represented by the irrepressible PC 1351 Len West, whose outrageous humour kept us all in stitches and was a real tonic when morale started to flag; later to become a dog man) and we were patrolling in what later became apparent to be part of the red light district. At one point, an upstairs sash window of a dilapidated looking Victorian terrace was opened, and a young (-ish!) local female enquired of us if there was anything she could do for us. Quick as a flash, young Mick said “I don’t have any cash on me, do you accept plastic?” which prompted the equally quick, and classic response “Only sideways!”
Simon Nelson: These riots were sparked after general dissatisfaction with the Thatcher Government and an increase in unemployment particularly in Toxteth. I remember watching TV news film of riots with petrol bombs and things being thrown at the police, overturned vehicles and burning buildings. The next thing I knew was that I was on a coach as a member of the Guildford contingent of the Surrey Constabulary Police Support Unit (PSU) on my way to Liverpool. This was the first of three major PSU deployments by Surrey Constabulary giving mutual aid to other Police Forces around the country during the first five years of the 1980's. On the journey up I sat wandering with some trepidation (after seeing the TV pictures) about what would be in store for us. I had been in the police five years by then and married less than a year and I was thinking it was going to be all over for me so soon. We were met at a service station on the A562 just outside Liverpool by Merseyside Police Traffic cars. I think they were Ford Escort RS2000, very nippy, and they escorted us to our accommodation at the university campus. Conditions were good and there was plenty of food. The next morning we were met again by Traffic and they escorted our coach to the main Police Station in Toxteth. From what I remember no Surrey Constabulary personnel carriers were taken up to Liverpool. On the way in through the surrounding area you could see devastation everywhere and the streets were almost devoid of people. After a briefing we were deployed in pairs to walk the surrounding area. It was just like a scene from the London Blitz of World War Two with burnt out buildings and cars everywhere and rubble all over the streets. When members of the public were walking past us we would automatically greet them with a smile and say "Hello" as if we were on the beat in leafy Surrey. At first they were a bit wary of us but most people stopped to chat. Many good comments were received from them saying they were pleased to see police walking the beat and we were so approachable and friendly. There were no other riots while we were there. I think the rioters had run out of things to burn and had made their point. The following day Surrey Constabulary PSU was deployed in a very thin blue line across the front of Liverpool Town Hall where the Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher was due to meet the city Mayor. Directly in front of us the street and square was packed with thousands of people. We were wearing our usual uniforms and helmets and no NATO Riot Helmets or riot equipment was carried. The members of the public who were standing next to us were all very inquisitive when they could see our Surrey Constabulary helmet plates and they entered into friendly conversation with us. When the Prime Minister arrived there was a lot of shouting and booing their main chant being "Maggie, Maggie, Maggie; Out, Out, Out”! After she had been driven away the crowds slowly dispersed without any trouble. I think it was the same day that we got on the coach and started on our journey back to Surrey. We had just travelled out of the city when our coach broke down. I can’t remember if we all divided ourselves between the other coaches in the convoy and continued or we waited for our coach to me mended. We got back to Surrey in the end.
Geoff Todd: By 1981 I was serving in Thames valley Police. I seem to remember parties of Surrey officers used to call at our HQ in Kidlington where my communications department officers issued radios to those venturing north. I had many a cup of tea with former Surrey colleagues here. Peter Imbert (former DCC Surrey) was our Chief Constable at the time.
1981 15 July: The Times: The army demonstrated an all British water canon to police chiefs yesterday amid some secrecy at a military research establishment at Chobham. Surrey Police officers also examined a Humber “pig” armoured troop carrier as they tried to identify their future requirements in the event of a second wave of rioting.
Alan Bridgman: Recent reports in Old and Bold have reminded me of Toxteth in 1981, which I visited with an untrained PSU from Dorking in July of that year. I was a patrol sergeant at Dorking, and had just started my week of earlies. The TV and newspapers were full of reports of rioting and disorder in Brixton, and some apparent copycat behaviour in Toxteth, Liverpool, as well as in Reading, Wolverhampton and Birmingham. We were all interested in such reports, which made quiet old Dorking seem all the more attractive as a place of work. I worked a 9-5 on Friday, 10th July, and returned happily home to Farnham, where I seemed to be living “without lawful authority”. This was of course long before the force adopted the practice of not caring where anyone lived, as long as they turned up for duty on time.
I was phoned at home that night, and told to report for duty at Dorking by 0930 the next morning, with a weekend bag packed. It was something to do with the rioting which had broken out in the land. I made the professional assessment that Surrey Police was due to provide Mutual Aid to our neighbours in the Met, only ten miles distant from Dorking. I was happy to go, since the project appeared to offer interest, excitement – and overtime! On arrival at the nick I found a gang of about eight PCs gathered, each having received the same order as myself. We embussed in the Divisional minibus, and prior to leaving for HQ I checked that each PC was in possession of full uniform, change of clothes, and appointments, i.e. truncheon and handcuffs. Everyone was, except dear young 976 Jones, who had neither cuffs nor stick. “Will we need them Sarge?” quoth he. “We are going to a riot Jones!” I replied, much to the amusement of his colleagues. He rapidly debussed and retrieved his armaments, and then we were off to HQ, where we managed to embus on a 52 seat coach, together with PSUs from Guildford and Leatherhead. I reassured my mildly worried young PCs that we were going most likely to somewhere around Twickenham, to permit the Met to regroup and overcome the troublemakers in Brixton. I was surprised when ACC Atkins got on the coach, and wished us all well on our travels to – what was that he said? – Toxteth? And then he was gone, and we were off, up the M1 in a northerly direction, heading for Liverpool. I had visited this city several times before, en route to the TT Races, and had not been greatly impressed by its levels of hospitality. The coach arrived at Burtonwood Services on the M62 at 1700, where it was met by a local Traffic car, and guided at an impressive turn of speed to Admiral Street Police Station. Here we all debussed, and were served a meal of highly forgettable standard. The local officers we did see there all looked completely shagged out, and no wonder, since the riots had been running five days already.
At 1845 we were all seated in ST Philomena’s Church Hall, practically next door to the nick. The Mothers Union members of the church had gathered, and were enthusiastically making tea and wads for all visitors. We were glad of the opportunity to eat more food, which made up for the garbage we’d just been served at the nick. As we sat round the table drinking tea, the local vicar came and sat with us, and within seconds the erudite PC 168 O’Daly had raised the teapot, and without a hint of a smile had enquired “More tea, Vicar ?”. This was a phrase much in use in Surrey at the time, usually in response to a foul-mouthed tirade of abuse directed at the police by a drunken yobbo. How the rest of the team kept a straight face I do not know, but the vicar was pleased anyway.
At 1930 the Surrey contingent’s leader, C/I Len Rose called a briefing session. He announced that he was Green Leader; Inspector Chris Farmer was to be Green Juliet 10, and I was to be Green Juliet 12. We were to go immediately on patrol on the streets of Toxteth. At 20.00 we deployed in Sefton Park Road and Lodge Lane. I had twenty PCs with me, and I sent them out in pairs 100 yards apart in Lodge Lane, which was the central thoroughfare of Toxteth. It had obviously once been the thriving High Street of the area, but now was a destroyed battle area. Every house and shop on each side of the street had been burnt out and destroyed. Only the pubs remained standing after the rioting. Now why was that, I wondered? I instructed the PSU that they were to patrol as normal, as they would in Surrey – except that they were in pairs, with another 18 officers within sight; and should act in their normal, polite Surrey way, unless and until they met with any aggression, when they would have to respond positively, and firmly. I had one pair of Bobbies surplus to requirements, so I gave them a mission of locating a tea-stop in any of the houses still standing which might still react favourably to the sight of a police uniform. Rather to my surprise they returned after an hour, and reported “Mission Accomplished”. They led me to 7, Greenheyes Gardens, in Sefton Park Lane, where the occupants were delighted to welcome me in, and offer hot coffee, sandwiches and cakes. The neighbours from each side were present, and all of them were absolutely delighted to see patrolling policemen, so much so that they could not offer enough hospitality. I congratulated them on their kindness, and casually asked if they could spare succour for any more of the troops. “How many?” “Eighteen”. “We’ll need more bread!” A neighbour was dispatched to locate bread supplies, and I arranged a quick roster for refreshment stops for the troops. The occupants apologised for all the trouble of the week, blaming it all on unemployed youths, who had nothing to distract them from troublemaking. They didn’t have a great deal of praise for their local officers, but accepted that they had a hard job to do in Toxteth at the best of times. Their sense of reality and personal responsibility was most impressive to me; they weren’t angels, but they did recognise that the rule of law must prevail, in the interests of every individual. It was a great shame that they had to wait for their High Street to be destroyed before they actually worked that out. At 2330 I commenced patrol with Inspector Alan Tugwell, who was certainly of the right size to deal with rioters – though we didn’t actually meet any! While patrolling, and keeping a close eye on each pair of Bobbies, I noticed that a few members of the public were appearing, and walking towards the pubs. As they approached each pair of Bobbies, each civilian would appear to flinch and move away from the policemen, as if they were reacting to a threat made. I knew that none of my men would be issuing threats to people they didn’t know, so as soon as it was quiet enough, I asked each bobby what was going on. They all said the same. As a member of the public approached, they would bid them Good Evening. As soon as they did so, each civilian would flinch as if they’d been struck. When I stopped a few of these civvies myself, each one explained that in Toxteth a PC only ever spoke to you if they were nicking you. Polite greetings from PC to civilian were unheard of, - until the arrival of a Surrey Constabulary PSU!
We were relieved by “A” PSU at 0120, and returned to the church hall, for yet more tea and sarnies. Like all PSU trained officers, we tended to eat at every opportunity, whether hungry or not, since you never knew when you would next sight food. At 0215 we were back on the street in Lodge Lane, with C/I Rose in attendance. All was now quiet; rioters were clearly catching up on their beauty sleep. At 0330 we embussed at Beaumont Street, and at 0430 we arrived at Liverpool University, where we were all allocated bedrooms, and were finally able to sleep, after a working day of only nineteen hours ! We were fortunate to enjoy such civilised accommodation; the Staffordshire PSUs which arrived after us all had to sleep on the floor in a gym somewhere.
We took breakfast at 1300 on the Sunday, embussed and travelled to Admiral Street, where we were offered yet more food, before being placed on Standby. At 1830 we were back on foot patrol in Lodge Lane, with again 20 Bobbies patrolling in pairs 100 yards apart. The jungle telegraph had now worked overtime, and many more local residents were out on the street, each of them keen to approach the uniformed Bobbies, and studiously examine the badge on the helmet. As soon as they read “Surrey Constabulary”, they knew they were in safe hands, and would stop and chat quite happily. As I moved up and down the street between each pair of bobbies, I noticed a small crowd of youths, about a dozen, gathered outside the pub, listening intently to a figure in their midst, who was wearing a blue denim shirt. I recognised the figure of PC Graham Elliott. He was known to me as an inveterate joke-teller, since he was a motorcyclist, and a former soldier; he was in no danger, as I had first suspected; he was stood among a group of Toxteth’s finest youth, his helmet at his feet, his tie clipped to his shirt pocket, and he was delighted to be telling jokes to an appreciative audience. The group rocked with laughter as I watched, and he carried on telling his favourite jokes. I did not intervene, recognising that his diversion from uniform conformity was not costing him, or the local community, anything at all, and that the local youth may be learning that speaking with a policeman is not necessarily a dangerous or painful experience. We were relieved at 2325 by a Staffordshire PSU, and were back in our University rooms at 0015.
Such an early finish meant that we were up and embussed at 0730, and took breakfast at Hope Street nick before adjourning to the bar - which was of course closed! At 0905 my PSU was deployed outside the nick, since the rumour was that Prime Minister Mrs Margaret Thatcher was due to visit. A local man walked through the horde of policemen in the street, and shouted something mildly disrespectful of Mrs T. A local bobby enquired whether I would have him arrested; “No” was my response; he was the only civilian in the street, and loud though his comment had been, it had caused no distress to any of my PSU, who were the only ones to hear it. The exercise of discretion used to be such a valuable component of effective policing! At 1105 we were redeployed by coach to Derby Square, outside the Liverpool Town Hall. As we debussed, the local Chief Inspector looked at me most approvingly, and said how glad he was to have experienced Bobbies from the south available to guard the Town Hall, where Mrs T. Was ensconced. His own men had no experience of crowd control in riot situations, he said. I didn’t tell him that my men were in the same boat!
We were positioned almost opposite the Town Hall steps, down which Mrs T. Would have to come to get into her car. My line of men were stood in the kerbside of the road, facing the pavement, where was gathered a small number of middle-aged women, some of them holding placards. They would occasionally chant something like “Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, Out, Out, Out!”, but were generally perfectly pleasant and well-behaved. Amongst them stood one older woman, with a fairly dour face; she held a large bag of toffees in her hand, and chewed doggedly on one. She offered toffees to each PC within reach, and they cheerfully accepted them. I was stood in the road behind my men, scrutinising the faces of the Liverpudlian locals, in case I should need to identify any of them later. We had been in these positions for about an hour, when the old lady with the toffees looked at me directly, and said quietly “See you, I bet you’re a right bastard”. I smiled at this compliment, and we all stayed in position for another hour, while the crowd in front of us grew thicker, and noisier. The arrival of the Prime Minister’s Jaguar on the road behind us caused the crowd to become even more excited, and I instructed my men to link arms in the PSU fashion, i.e. with arms linked through the arms of the man each side and one’s hands clasped together in front of the body. This way, even if the crowd of excited old ladies forged forward, the line of PCs should hold strong. Police motorcycles in front and behind the Jaguar started engines, and obviously gave a clear signal to the crowd that Maggie was about to appear. It was over ten minutes before she actually did appear, and I only knew about it because of the roar from the crowd in front of me. It surged forward, but was efficiently restrained by the PSU line with linked arms – except for one point where an ex-soldier PC had failed to clasp his hands, and was nearly dislodged by the force of the crowd. A youth of about 18 years of age attempted to spring through the gap, his face contorted with fury, and his eyes fixed on Mrs T. I took appropriate precautionary action – and punched him in the face, which knocked him back to the pavement, and the PSU line reformed. The Jaguar sped away – very wisely, in my view – and the tension in the crowd subsided. Banners were lowered, the shouting and barracking stopped, and the crowd started to disperse. The PSU line stayed in place, and the youth I had punched reached out to shake my hand, and assure me he held no hard feelings. “Nowt so queer as folk” as they used to say, and as every experienced policeman will agree!
We were held on standby at Hope Street nick from 1500 to 20.00, and then returned to the Town Hall for street patrol, before terminating at 2300. The next morning, Tuesday July 14th, we were all back on the coach to Surrey, where it took a further two weeks to gain agreement from HQ on the hours of overtime which could be claimed. Situation normal!
Little did we realise as we served in the 1980s, protecting a Conservative PM and government, that only 30 years later another Tory PM and government would be intending to reduce the police establishment despite the fact that the population has increased to sixty million. Evidently the PM doesn’t speak with street-patrol officers – and doesn’t realise that the Home Office “experts” he does speak with, have little or no experience of policing the street!
Dick Medhurst: I spent a long weekend at Toxteth. We were told to pack an overnight bag but weren't told where we were going. I remember I only packed one pair of under pants as we were told it would be one night so I expect you can imagine how badly we all smelt after three nights. We stayed at the university and had to work a night shift as soon as we got there; the Surrey serials we sent to police the area of Lodge Lane and we were in two's, every 100yds. I remember I was with a colleague called Ken Hooper and we were to stand next to a pub I can not remember the name of it but it was the only building standing that was untouched by the desolation that surrounded it the only other thing that was left undamaged was the phone box opposite. I decided to ring my wife from the phone box and will always remember how clear the line was so I could put my wife’s mind at rest that I was ok. The Pub was closed but after standing there for an hour or so a window opened and made us jump and a deep Liverpool accent asked us what our favourite tipple was and we both replied scotch and all through the night on the hour 2 x whiskies were placed on the window sill. One humorous moment happened when our dear old inspector the late Alan Tugwell came walking up to us to have a chat and said that he could smell whiskey and of course we denied all knowledge of it and as he stood there the window opened and two scotches appeared followed by the landlord asking if we had had enough yet and Tuggy said no they haven't can you make it three please. I also remember that when the locals realised we were not the local police they were very warm and friendly towards us and would bring out tea and biscuits. I also remember the next day we were in Lodge Lane again and I had run out of cigarettes and as we were an attraction for the local kids I gave a young lad some money to go up to the shops and get me some fags, at that time a local officer had joined us and told me that it was the last I had seen of the money, but a few minutes later he was surprised to see that the lad returned with my fags and the change which I said he could keep. We also had to cordon off the crowd at the town hall when Maggie Thatcher visited the area.
Steve Gooding: That would be me then - Is it really 30 years ago near enough? Toxteth locals welcomed us onto their streets or so it seemed. Tea biscuits even cake they heard our accents and treated our lot quite well. The university lodgings were stark and I shared a room with one rookie PC by the name of Boon - Neil - a noisy night in more ways than one. On the way back we were diverted to Leicester, Charles Street nick area, where sofa's etc were being thrown out of the tower blocks. We were in those nice Bicknell Coaches and were told to be-bus with not a riot helmet between us. I was first out of the coach and at the end of the line ready to run if they came our way. A more "suitably equipped" PSU was moved in so we all did a disappearing act PDQ
1981 Surrey Constabulary support to police in Liverpool following the Toxteth riots. Chris Farmer: Another of my “battle honours”, but one that sadly only provides me with hazy memories. We were accommodated in halls of residence at the university, and operated out of the Admiral Street police station. The first night we arrived was a real eye-opener to us soft southerners, and we were stunned by the devastation visited upon the local area: most of the shops had been looted, with all their windows shattered and doors destroyed; every conceivable bit of street furniture, including paving slabs and kerbstones, ripped up or torn down to be used as missiles or implements of destruction. Litter and all kinds of rubbish lying everywhere so all in all, a thoroughly depressing place. My unit was deployed in pairs to patrol on foot in one area, which provided the only moment of light relief that I am now able to recall. I was on foot with PC 544 Mick Finch, a stalwart of the Shere Section (also represented by the irrepressible PC 1351 Len West, whose outrageous humour kept us all in stitches and was a real tonic when morale started to flag; later to become a dog man) and we were patrolling in what later became apparent to be part of the red light district. At one point, an upstairs sash window of a dilapidated looking Victorian terrace was opened, and a young (-ish!) local female enquired of us if there was anything she could do for us. Quick as a flash, young Mick said “I don’t have any cash on me, do you accept plastic?” which prompted the equally quick, and classic response “Only sideways!”
Simon Nelson: These riots were sparked after general dissatisfaction with the Thatcher Government and an increase in unemployment particularly in Toxteth. I remember watching TV news film of riots with petrol bombs and things being thrown at the police, overturned vehicles and burning buildings. The next thing I knew was that I was on a coach as a member of the Guildford contingent of the Surrey Constabulary Police Support Unit (PSU) on my way to Liverpool. This was the first of three major PSU deployments by Surrey Constabulary giving mutual aid to other Police Forces around the country during the first five years of the 1980's. On the journey up I sat wandering with some trepidation (after seeing the TV pictures) about what would be in store for us. I had been in the police five years by then and married less than a year and I was thinking it was going to be all over for me so soon. We were met at a service station on the A562 just outside Liverpool by Merseyside Police Traffic cars. I think they were Ford Escort RS2000, very nippy, and they escorted us to our accommodation at the university campus. Conditions were good and there was plenty of food. The next morning we were met again by Traffic and they escorted our coach to the main Police Station in Toxteth. From what I remember no Surrey Constabulary personnel carriers were taken up to Liverpool. On the way in through the surrounding area you could see devastation everywhere and the streets were almost devoid of people. After a briefing we were deployed in pairs to walk the surrounding area. It was just like a scene from the London Blitz of World War Two with burnt out buildings and cars everywhere and rubble all over the streets. When members of the public were walking past us we would automatically greet them with a smile and say "Hello" as if we were on the beat in leafy Surrey. At first they were a bit wary of us but most people stopped to chat. Many good comments were received from them saying they were pleased to see police walking the beat and we were so approachable and friendly. There were no other riots while we were there. I think the rioters had run out of things to burn and had made their point. The following day Surrey Constabulary PSU was deployed in a very thin blue line across the front of Liverpool Town Hall where the Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher was due to meet the city Mayor. Directly in front of us the street and square was packed with thousands of people. We were wearing our usual uniforms and helmets and no NATO Riot Helmets or riot equipment was carried. The members of the public who were standing next to us were all very inquisitive when they could see our Surrey Constabulary helmet plates and they entered into friendly conversation with us. When the Prime Minister arrived there was a lot of shouting and booing their main chant being "Maggie, Maggie, Maggie; Out, Out, Out”! After she had been driven away the crowds slowly dispersed without any trouble. I think it was the same day that we got on the coach and started on our journey back to Surrey. We had just travelled out of the city when our coach broke down. I can’t remember if we all divided ourselves between the other coaches in the convoy and continued or we waited for our coach to me mended. We got back to Surrey in the end.
Geoff Todd: By 1981 I was serving in Thames valley Police. I seem to remember parties of Surrey officers used to call at our HQ in Kidlington where my communications department officers issued radios to those venturing north. I had many a cup of tea with former Surrey colleagues here. Peter Imbert (former DCC Surrey) was our Chief Constable at the time.
1981 15 July: The Times: The army demonstrated an all British water canon to police chiefs yesterday amid some secrecy at a military research establishment at Chobham. Surrey Police officers also examined a Humber “pig” armoured troop carrier as they tried to identify their future requirements in the event of a second wave of rioting.
