Ratbag catcher

BY CATHERINE WOULFE

GRAHAM Bell calls himself a potterer and a mutterer, a big softie, and a bit of a grumpy old man. But there is something about the 63-year-old retired cop that is deeply compelling.

"If you recognise any of these idiots, or know something about this case, I want you to call us now," he says every week on TV2's ratings juggernaut Police Ten 7.

And every week, people obediently pick up their phones.

The show's been running for nine years and Bell says he's rapt it's catching "ratbags". He's also relieved to be able to walk away after filming.

"Whereas the police officer who's in charge of it, he goes home and goes to sleep with it in his head."

Bell knows that life well but scoffs at the idea he might have nightmares, or post-traumatic stress disorder: "No, we never had any of that sort of stuff when I was around. Ha, ha, ha. No, I never had much time for the tummy-scratchers."

This bloke's got no time for clairvoyants, either, or gangs ("they're a shower of s***"), or smoking, or anyone who lacks respect for others.

He mutters at the news, refuses to wear make-up on TV, and reckons the New Zealand sentencing system should be toughened up.

But he reveals a softer side when I ask how he juggled his police work with family.

He has been married to Joyce for 42 years and they have three adult children with children of their own.

"I was often an absentee dad. If I wasn't away doing stuff for the police I was playing rugby. I was totally absorbed with rugby when I was a young man, yeah.

"And I feel sorry for my wife when I look back. Yeah, I could have been far more attentive in those days, but when you're young you don't get your priorities quite right, you know."

After a 33-year career that saw him head the Rotorua station and lead many high-profile cases, Bell was forced to leave the police at 55, the set retirement age back then.

Now, he's glad he left. "You see the hopelessness of it all [as a police officer]. I've become a much brighter, more patient, tolerant individual since leaving the police."

Writing his 2008 book Murder, Lies and Mayhem helped too, and a brush with prostate cancer in 2006 reminded him what's important in life. "My whole world collapsed in an instant," he says. "My mouth just dropped open."

Bell's clear of the cancer now and about to go for what he hopes will be his final check-up. We're at the kitchen table in the Mt Eden, Auckland, apartment Bell shares with Joyce. She's at work, managing two jewellery stores on Queen Street. It's hot. Natalie Umbruglia is turned down low on the radio.

Bell is in sneakers, shorts and, intriguingly, a violet Calvin Klein T-shirt. He catches me looking and quickly clarifies: "This is a joke, it's a Thai thing, it's Armani or something. I hate label-bashing."

He's almost finished today's cryptic crossword. He does that and the word builder every morning, to keep his mind quick.

"I have the same thing for breakfast every day too. Three Weetbix." Banana? "Nah, nah. That's a bit fancy. Ha, ha."

For a creature of habit, Bell does a lot of hopping around the country. The small Police Ten 7 crew – Bell and two others – usually leave Auckland on a Sunday, film on the Monday and head back to Auckland for sound-recording on Tuesdays.

On Wednesdays, Bell's free to play golf and guitar. He owns seven guitars, and taught himself to play about 13 years ago, off the internet.

On Thursdays, he and Joyce head to Whitianga, where they've been holidaying ever since the kids were small. They've just finished building a house there, and Bell has been pottering around putting up clotheslines, making the decks and mowing lawns.

It's getting harder and harder to come back to Auckland each week. Bell loves scuba diving for crayfish and scallops at Whitianga, and the couple plan to retire there.

"One other thing I like is that people leave me alone there. I'm part of the scenery... No-one ever hassles me about what I do, which is good."

Bell's inclined to hassle them, though. He spent New Year's at Whitianga, along with a "constant stream" of drunk youths.

"My daughter came up to me – this is my middle daughter, who used to be a cop – and said, 'Dad, I need to talk to you.' And I said, 'what's that?' And she said, 'There's going to be a lot of young people going past here tonight, a lot of them are going to be very drunk and a lot of them are going to be doing very silly things and YOU,' he waggles his finger, 'are going to have to. Button. Your. Lip.' I did. Ha, ha, ha.

"I can tend to be a bit of a grumpy old man. Bit of a curmudgeon. But um, you know, I've earned that."

- © Fairfax NZ News