Two undercover police officers who have spent the past few years masquerading as a retired Metropolitan Police Service pantomime horse have today broken their silence following the arrest of a horse trainer, 49, and a flame-haired woman and former newspaper editor who shall remain nameless in any official utterances from the Metropolitan Police, 43, at their Oxfordshire home.
The undercover officers, who cannot be named for legal reasons, spoke of their pride as an operation some years in the planning came to fruition.
“When suspicions first arose abou the behaviour of the unnamed newspaper editor our boss had the idea that we should go undercover to investigate the behaviour. After discounting the possibility of gardening work or being dressed as former Eastenders actors we together decided – after remembering some old episodes of Rentaghost – that two men dressed as a horse is scarcely distinguishable from the real thing, especially when you have legs like mine. We therefore contacted the flame-haired woman and asked if she’d like a retired horse. We specified it was retired in order to avoid having anyone ride on us, as per the Met regulations, and we very clearly set out that requirement in the initial call. Anyway, she was interested enough but then she asked what the horse would be called and I’m afraid the boss blew it. He looked around his bookshelves, saw a battered copy of Peresetroika, and blustered something about it being named after the wife of the former Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev. I mean. I ask you. The wife of Mikhail Gorbachev. It’s absolutely mad. Anyway, it meant that we were stuck with the name Raisa for the next few years, with no-one being very sure how to pronounce it. We had to answer to various pronunciations Raisa, Raisa, Raisa, Raisa, and Raisa – some of them were finding up to four syllables in the five letters.
“Anyway, having been placed on the mission we proceeded in a north westerly direction from London’s central London out to the wilds of Oxfordshire and were kept with other horses. Life was fairly banal, but I’m afraid the diet of oats caused us various digestive problems. IN order to maintain equity within our undercover work we hooked up a small internal pulley system to allow me (at the head) to pass regular treats of sugar lumps to my colleague who spent some years bent double. I’m afraid those sugar lumps played havoc with his teeth, and we spent many nights of disturbed sleep as he whined and whined about some sort of abcess.
“Throughout the time we remained ever vigilant: watching; waiting for the slightest slip to indicate that something funny was going on. Aside from the screams when Ross Kemp won a BAFTA for his documentary work, the parties, the phone calls from Rupert, and the various [REDACTED] from [REDACTED] life was fairly quiet.
“The worst part was the riding out. While the possessor of the Titian-red tresses was fairly slight and manageable sadly her mates used to come along for a ride on us – despite the stipulation that as a retired horse we were not for riding. One friend boomed, “This is PROBABLY the BEST retired police horse… IN THE WORLD” before jumping on us. My poor colleague collapsed, and the unnamed woman, now 43, threatened to call for a vet. It was only through great personal courage that we dragged ourselves back to our feet and managed to avoid exposure. One other friend who rode us was a “Dave” who definitely didn’t discuss [REDACTED] taking over [REDACTED] and didn’t make plans for [REDACTED] over the festive season.
“After gathering together information we were recalled by HQ who told the couple that we were going to be cared for somewhere else – and eventually they were told that Raisa had died. Since then we have been operating undercover in environmental groups having affairs with the activists. It’s a hard life in undercover operations you know.”
(picture courtesy Peatworrier)