As depressingly as our once-virile American culture may be fettered and enfeebled by political correctness these days, over in Britain things are far, far worse. Below the fold we have an illustrative comparison, courtesy of a Mr. D. Duff, from across the pond.
How do you tell the difference between a UK Police Officer, an Australian Police Officer and an American Police Officer?
By posing the following question:
You’re walking down a deserted street with your wife and two small children. Suddenly, a dangerous-looking man with a huge knife comes around the corner, locks eyes with you, screams obscenities, raises the knife, and charges. You are carrying a Glock .40, and you are an expert shot. You have mere seconds before he reaches you and your family. What do you do?
UK police officer:
Well, that’s not really enough information to answer the question! Does the man look poor or oppressed? Have I ever done anything to him that would inspire him to attack? Could we run away? What does my wife think? What about the kids? Could I possibly swing the gun like a club and knock the knife out of his hand? What does the law say about this situation? Does the Glock have appropriate safety built into it? Why am I carrying a loaded gun anyway and what kind of message does this send to society and to my children? Is it possible he would be happy with just killing me? Does he definitely want to kill me, or would he be content just to wound me? If I were to grab his knees and hold on, could my family get away while he was stabbing me? Should I call 9-9-9? And why is this street so deserted? We need to raise taxes, have a paint-and-weed day and make this a happier, healthier street that would discourage such behaviour. If I raise my gun and he turns and runs away, will I be blamed if he falls over, knocks his head and kills himself? If I shoot him, does his family have the opportunity to sue me, cost me my job, my credibility, and will I lose my family home?
Australian police officer:
American police officer:
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! …click…
…(sounds of reloading)…
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! …click.
Daughter: “Nice grouping, dad! Were those the Winchester Silvertips?”