# Three Drunken Sailors.



## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

In the second year of my police probationary training... back in the mid nineteen sixties... I was walking my town centre beat down the Buttermarket. It was a warm summer evening, and I was on the late shift from 1400 hours to 2200 hours. There were plenty of people about, going to and from restaurants, window shopping or working their way round all the public houses. Ipswich was an old Tudor town, and there was a public house on almost every corner of the town centre in the narrow single-lane road system.
Coming up to The Ancient House... a classic book shop in another old Tudor building with the wooden framed upper floor overhanging the pavement... a short, rotund figure came running out of the double swing doors of the Ritz cinema. This was the next building along the narrow, single lane Buttermarket road. When he saw me, some thirty yards away, he shouted and came running up to me in a somewhat bewildered distress. Puffing and panting to catch his breath, he explained to me that he was the manager of the nearby Ritz cinema.
It was still early in the evening, and I'd only just left the police station after eating my evening meal, before setting out on my beat. He explained to me that there were three drunken foreign seamen up on the balcony, who were shouting and laughing at the film being run, and throwing popcorn about them. He turned and led me towards the double swing doors of the building.
The Ritz was an old fashioned cinema, with two aisles separating both the lower main floor and the upper balcony into three sections each. The manager led the way up the internal staircase, then through the double swing doors that opened out on the walkway of the balcony. It was still early doors, and the cinema was only two thirds full.
The manager excitedly pointed out the three drunken men, who were seated on the left hand side of the right aisle. They were easily distinguished by their behaviour, even in the darkened cinema, by their loud voiced and waving arms, silhouetted against the bright lights of the cinema screen.
We had no radios in those days... only blue police telephone boxes on some of the street corners of the town... so there was no way that I could call for assistance. I was on my own, on this little set-to, whether I liked it or not. I could see that I was going to have my hands full, once the proverbial hit the fan.
I instructed the manager of the cinema to turn off the film and put on the main lighting. I at least wanted to be heard and see what I was doing. I observed the three seamen from my position at the top of the aisle while waiting for the lights to come on.
By their accents, they were Scandinavian, the one next to the aisle being by far the larger of the three men, and the most drunk. I could clearly see in the shadows that they were throwing handfuls of popcorn at the women in the audience and shouting sexual abuse at them... much to the annoyance of their male attendants.
Once the curtains of the screen closed, after the film was turned off and the main lights had been put on, I started making my way down the right-hand aisle of the balcony. Almost everyone in the audience looked about them, wondering what was going to happen next. I approached the three men, and stopped by the larger man seated by the aisle.
On seeing me standing next to him, he started shouting at me in a foreign voice and waving his arms about on my request to leave the cinema. I gathered that he was telling me to go forth and multiply in his gruff foreign voice. The people sitting in the seats nearby were somewhat alarmed at the potential incident that was about to erupt in front of the.
I grabbed hold of his waving right arm just below the elbow and pulled him to his feet. His two drinking buddies beside him sipped on their smuggled bottles of spirits and were quite content to stay seated and watch the incident unfold before them. Putting the larger man in a hammer-lock and bar, I hauled him to his feet and bent him forward with his right arm pushed right up his back. He tried to hit me with his bottle of spirits in his left hand, but I put on the pressure until the pain was so much that he dropped it to the carpeted floor.
I never carried my issued appointments... my truncheon and handcuffs... as they were completely a waste of time. The truncheon was made of wood, and you had to fill in a form in triplicate if you so much as produced it. And the handcuffs weighed a ton... straight out of the Dickens Bow Street Runners. They needed four men to hold down the miscreant before they could be applied, and were only useful as a knuckle-duster in a fight, or to throw through the windshield of a vehicle failing to stop. No, my good old rubber torch earned its keep as my weapon of choice.
I could tell that he was Danish, and was also using a splattering of German and Flemish. When we reached the balcony railing he went into one of his full verbal attacks at me, struggling for all he was worth. I flipped him almost over the balcony, just about managing to hold onto him. There was a sudden intake of breath from the audience, and I could hear the chairs banging in the auditorium below as the cinema-goers hurriedly vacated their sets below us. He swore, "Haudfradoma!" at me in Flemish, as I held him above the fleeing audience.
At last he simmered down, and I led him along the balcony railing to the central staircase leading down to the foyer of the cinema. The audience cheered and clapped in unison at my efforts, as I escorted the man down the stairway to the road beyond. At the outside double swing doors, I pushed him with all of my might, and he crashed through them and sprawled over the pavement outside the cinema on his hands and knees. His two fellow shipmates meekly joined him, and they staggered down the Buttermarket together looking for another public house to drown their sorrows. I wondered if I was going to have more trouble from them before the evening was out.
The manager of the Ritz cinema enthusiastically shook my hand, and thanked me for getting rid if the three drunken sailors. I waved to him, and started slowly walking eastwards on my beat. "What a night!" I thought to myself as I popped another Fisherman's Friend into my mouth.
Several weeks later, one of my old school friends from my days at Tower Ramparts Secondary School came up to me in the street with his girlfriend while I was patrolling my beat. He shook my hand for a great performance, and said it was far better than watching the film. He slapped me on the shoulder in a gesture of friendship, then walked away with a smile on his face. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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## Bill.B (Oct 19, 2013)

Good story Dick. Loved the Ritz. We went there on a school trip from Westbourne to listen to the theatre organ. Spent tons of money in the ancient house on books. Ipswich town was a lovely town in the 50-60s.


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## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

*For Bill. B.*

G'day, Bill. B, it's good to hear from you. The old Ritz has long gone, along with the other two cinemas. There is now a new Multiplex at Cardinal Park... off Commercial Road. I spent many a happy Saturday morning in the fifties at the Saturday Morning Pictures at the Ritz, singing 'We are the Ovaltine's, happy boys and girls.' It is just shops these days, and the Ancient House is no longer a book shop, but I believe specializes as a novelty gift shop... or something like that. I've never been inside since. 
When I returned to Ipswich in August 1990, after being away overseas for fifteen years... all over the world on my third ship, Dauntless Star, and my forth ship, Debut... the town had completely changed. The main reason for this was the Orwell Crossing being opened, which diverted all the through-traffic away from the town centre to the new bridge at Nacton Shores. 
I consider this as my bridge, as I towed the Wimpy drilling barge down the River Orwell from the Wet Dock to test-bore the river bottom between Nacton and Wherstead with my second ship, Biche, a 72 foot gaff yawl, French Thonier, that I spent four years rebuilding while working as a police officer. I'm glad that you enjoyed the story of reminiscences of our younger days. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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## Bill.B (Oct 19, 2013)

Another connection there Dick. I spent a lot of my teens and 20s sailing on the barge Vigilant. It was either a drinking club with a barging problem or a barge club with a drinking problem. The three owners were all Geophysicists for Wimpey at the time. They did a lot of marine site surveys. They adopted me at the Pin Mill barge race and at 16 was the youngest crew member. First question was "Do you drink?" My answer yes led to some of the happiest times of my life afloat. 
Keep them coming Dick
Bill


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## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

*For Bill B.*

G'day, Bill. B, it's good to hear from you again. Part of the job description of a life at sea is knowing how to drink. One third whisky and two parts water is my secret, with little sips held under the tongue for ten minutes to savour the bouquet... like a well matured brandy. I often ask enquirers who asked me how I could drink half a litre of whisky every day... a full litre when I was in the South Seas to keep the mozzies at bay... how much they would drink if spirits were almost free. They always tell me until they fell down drunk. 
I point out to them that if you were on a salvage operation, with divers in the water, and having to use a twelve foot in diameter screw to hold the ship's position... then how much drink they would consume. As you might expect, they still answer until they were fall-down drunk... even when I put to them that they were on five grand a day, so must keep their act together. 
Alcohol is part of our life! Sitting on board ship in port in the 60° Celsius heat of the Persian Gulf without a drink is unbearable, but with a bottle or two, with all your crewmates around you, then a good time is had by all. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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