I'm on night duty in Pleasantville. I volunteer for as many Duty Officer postings as possible to provide respite from the monotony of my day job. Only that it very rarely does, as nothing of any note ever occurs in this district of Utopia. I'm sitting in the Control Room at my desk, looking at the Outstanding List of calls on the Dispatch Computer. There's only one. An old lady has called to inform us that there is a cat in her garden. Her son, for some, reason, cannot come into close proximity with cats and she is very worried. She has provided us with the international telephone number for the son in Australia, whom she has unsuccessfully tried to warn.
Suddenly, the silence if broken by three high-pitch intermitent beeps, meaning that an officer has pressed their emergency button and requires urgent assistance.
Controller: "449, 449, you've pressed your emergency button. Is everything okay?"
An open carrier, panting heard and the sound of heavy footsteps.
Controller: "449, 449, what's your location?"
449: "I (pant, pant), I don't know."
Controller: "449, what's happening?"
449: "Chasing suspect, (pant, pant), IC1 male, black hooded top."
Controller: "449, we need your location so we can get units to you. Where are you?"
449: "I don't know. Stand by, he's turning left into another road."
Controller: "449, as soon as you see the name of the road let me know immediately."
449: "Sarge, he's gone left into, into...no, I've lost him. It's a loss."
Controller: "The road name, I need the road name."
449: "It's, it's, it's Cul-de-Sac, he's gone into a road called Cul-de-Sac."
Controller: "449 receiving."
449: "Go ahead Sarge."
Controller: "You're a f**king idiot. Cul-de-Sac means 'dead end.' There's hundreds of them around the district."