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genes_world_backup2010-06-03 02:16 am
unbreakablelion.livejournal.com) wrote in genes_world_backup2010-06-03 02:16 am
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Who: Gene Hunt, Alex Drake
When: Afternoon
Where: CID Office, Fenchurch East
What: Awaiting a visit from Discipline and Complaints
Warnings: Gene's potty mouth
Great. Bloody wonderful. Thanks to a botched sting operation that had left one police officer dead and another badly injured, Gene now had the Discipline and Complaints Department breathing down his neck again. Unkept arrest sheets, a lack of audio cassettes from interviews and a general shoddy workmanship regarding paperwork also showed CID in a bad light. Despite numerous warnings, Gene still firmly believed that paperwork was a waste of police time and if they wanted paperwork doing they should hire secretaries - preferably ones with skirts up to their arse and low cut blouses!
Gene had been sat in his office, smoking a cigarette and toying with his – the real his – collar number, brushing a gloved thumb over the chromed numbers. He threw it into the top drawer of his desk, locking it, before crushing the cigarette out, pushing himself to his feet.
He opened the door to his office, stepping out into CID’s main room to address his team. "Right, ladies. Listen up. Some tart from D&C is coming to check up on us, so I want you all on your best behaviour, got it?" His current team was a far cry from the team he had come to love and care for, but they weren’t a bad bunch. They did their job, they obeyed his orders. Yet it just didn’t have the same feel in this room any more.
He threw his car keys at one of the men. "You. Go polish the Quattro. If you so much as scratch it I’ll shove your head so far up your arse you’ll be able to lick your tonsils." He turned his attention to another member of the team. "You, put some procedural posters or somethin’ up. Make the place look pretty. Spray some of that air freshener about too. Birds love that kinda floral crap." He folded his arms across his chest, leaning against one of the desks. "I want your arrest sheets on my desk by dinner time. If you can't remember all the details, make it up. She’ll be itching for any reason to shut us down. Don’t give her any reason. Don’t let me down."
When: Afternoon
Where: CID Office, Fenchurch East
What: Awaiting a visit from Discipline and Complaints
Warnings: Gene's potty mouth
Great. Bloody wonderful. Thanks to a botched sting operation that had left one police officer dead and another badly injured, Gene now had the Discipline and Complaints Department breathing down his neck again. Unkept arrest sheets, a lack of audio cassettes from interviews and a general shoddy workmanship regarding paperwork also showed CID in a bad light. Despite numerous warnings, Gene still firmly believed that paperwork was a waste of police time and if they wanted paperwork doing they should hire secretaries - preferably ones with skirts up to their arse and low cut blouses!
Gene had been sat in his office, smoking a cigarette and toying with his – the real his – collar number, brushing a gloved thumb over the chromed numbers. He threw it into the top drawer of his desk, locking it, before crushing the cigarette out, pushing himself to his feet.
He opened the door to his office, stepping out into CID’s main room to address his team. "Right, ladies. Listen up. Some tart from D&C is coming to check up on us, so I want you all on your best behaviour, got it?" His current team was a far cry from the team he had come to love and care for, but they weren’t a bad bunch. They did their job, they obeyed his orders. Yet it just didn’t have the same feel in this room any more.
He threw his car keys at one of the men. "You. Go polish the Quattro. If you so much as scratch it I’ll shove your head so far up your arse you’ll be able to lick your tonsils." He turned his attention to another member of the team. "You, put some procedural posters or somethin’ up. Make the place look pretty. Spray some of that air freshener about too. Birds love that kinda floral crap." He folded his arms across his chest, leaning against one of the desks. "I want your arrest sheets on my desk by dinner time. If you can't remember all the details, make it up. She’ll be itching for any reason to shut us down. Don’t give her any reason. Don’t let me down."