history of the Bermuda Police Service this past weekend.

On Sunday yours truly was taking in that refined gentlemen's game of cricket at St. John's field -- and what fine men they were, bedecked in gleaming whites and looking ooooohhh so...athletic.

"Breath don't pant girl.'' Anyway, all of a sudden a Police siren was heard wailing in the region of Gorhams Hardware store. As Hester and other startled spectators looked on, a pair of helmetless youths on a motorbike suddenly came into view, all the while being trailed by a squad-car.

At no more than 15 miles-an-hour there was no way the daring duo were going to escape.

But, no, these guys had a plan, a darned good one, and their pursuers were helpless to stop them without risking life and limb.

Just after passing the clubhouse the cycle made a sharp right-turn up Park Lane, a steep incline that caused them to slow to jogging pace.

But at the crest of the hill stakes had been planted to prevent four-wheeled vehicles advancing further. It was here that the ingenius plan bore fruit.

Gone were the offenders through the narrow gap, while, stranded with no where to go were our red-faced boys in blue.

See, sometimes crime does pay.

As regular readers will know, I'm never one to kick a man when he's down, particularly if he's a strapping example of Bermuda's finest, but...

The Island's bedraggled Police Service seems to have come in for more than its fair share of flack lately -- what with the recent news of a `slump' in detection rates and allegations of armchair Policing from some members of the legal fraternity.

But while The Commish may want to blame the force's shortcomings on a lack of manpower, Hester wonders if the answer lies elsewhere.

On her way to the Gazette office one afternoon last week your intrepid columnist noticed a bit of a commotion on Par-la-Ville Road. It appeared some unfortunate driver had had a minor `bump' with an immovable object, putting a bit of a dent in his pride and joy.

Hester was glad to note that, within seconds, a patrol car had screeched to the scene and out stepped four burly boys in blue to investigate `the incident'.

But half-an-hour later all four of our upkeepers of the law were still at the crime scene, eagerly grilling our `suspect' and taking down notes in earnest.

Now Hester is all for a bit of enthusiasm on the job but this seems just a tad heavy handed don't you think? Could such eagerness on the Island's roads have anything to do with the amount of cash that pours into Government coffers from all those traffic fines? Come on Commish, give us the truth.

Being Bermudian, Hester takes great pride in our reputation as polite people, but she admits she isn't sure how long she could keep it up if she were the receptionist at a certain local realty company.

Eying up what property she might buy since learning that Butterfield's will finance her to the tune of 95 percent, Hester got an earful on just the greeting at one company.

You can call it what you will but over at Coldwell Banker Jones Waddington Bermuda Realty, the receptionist gives you the full schpeel as soon as she answers.

"Good afternoon, Coldwell Banker, Jones Waddington Bermuda Realty Ltd. can I help you?'' Hester takes her hat off to her.

There could be troubled waters ahead for transport officials when the loyal and close knit west end ferry community get wind of the changes afoot with the new ferries.

The dropping of the Boaz Island stop is sure to ripple the waters, but guaranteed to cause mutiny on the deck is the news that the glossy new catamarans will be reserved for the busy shipping lanes from Dockyard and St.

George's.

It seems those dedicated travellers will have to make do with watching the sleek pink and blue boats -- laden with happy cruise ship passengers -- speed past their ageing tub on the way to Hamilton.