Police funerals are big. It is the celebration of an officers life and commitment to duty. For soldiers it is the ramp ceremony, held on base, for the fellow soldiers to honour the fallen. Like any funeral, families gather, to mourn together and share in the memory of the departeds life. The police are like any family, but much larger.
To bring into issue if this over the top is in bad taste. To say this will be used as a bargaining chip in contract negotiations is ludicrous. To link this with the G20 as a deflection of what happened, think about that one for yourself and feel very ashamed.
The blue wall is a brotherhood, that's for sure. Like anybody they are not perfect, although, like athletes, many hold them to a higher standard. The linking of a death in one profession to another is like comparing apples and oranges. The police are dealing with elements of society on an everyday basis that the average citizen never comes into contact with. The job is like a never ending battle. Officers grind it out on a daily basis and they are wounded and scarred for their efforts and sometimes one of them pays the ultimate price. Leave them be, let them mourn and celebrate the death of one of their own.
And from Henry the V's speech at Agincourt;
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.