During his speech he told a joke to an audience of detectives with thick necks and thinner skins that disparaged the Criminal Investigation Branch ("The CIB! It stands for Criminally Insane Bastards"). That was his second mistake.

Back at the Police Association Club he sat with one of the female bar staff, strutted like a bantamweight and then argued the toss with a heavyweight detective. Mistake three, four and five.

Mistake six was accepting an invitation to step outside that resulted in him simultaneously losing interest and consciousness. He was last seen being dragged into a car driven by a senior policeman who was also a Police Association office holder.

In the days before security cameras the event remained unrecorded and largely unreported in a cover-up of Watergate proportions. Both the policeman and the public official retired long ago with reputations (and dental work) intact.

In the 1960s and '70s the Police Club had an extended liquor licence and a relaxed view on the responsible serving of alcohol and food handling (there was a steamer on the bar filled with dim sims carbon dated to the Jurassic era). In the early hours the bell would ring as a barman yelled, "Last drinks and get your travellers" (this referred to stubbies of beer rather than fellow passengers).

On one such journey a police reporter known only as "Big Jim" was stopped by a marked unit to be asked by a stern-faced policeman, "Have you been drinking?" Big Jim replied, "Of course, we've been with the "Robbers" [Armed Robbery Squad] at the Club."

The policeman paused before replying, "That's a tough school, you better drive straight home." It was sage advice.

The Club, then nestled in behind Russell Street Police Headquarters, was insular, boozy and a police secret society where nothing was reported and cops of all ranks could talk through their highs and lows.

But as the suburban sprawl took police away from headquarters and drink-drive laws began to bite the Club soon lost its appeal and eventually closed. But not the Police Association, which this year celebrates its 100th anniversary. Established as a harmless social club in 1917 it has become a powerful organisation that regularly helps shape public policy and define the law and order debate.

When union membership is at an all-time low (less than 20 per cent of the workforce) the Police Association runs at 97 per cent. And while the ultimate union weapon is to strike, the PA flexes its muscles without threatening to withdraw labour. Now it is no exaggeration to say a government that loses Association support is flirting with an extended term in Opposition.

Which is probably why Premier Daniel Andrews took time out from a hectic day to speak at the Centenary Dinner held the other night at the MCG (your corespondent was another speaker telling a particularly amusing personal anecdote about the Police Club*).

And when most unions represent the rank and file the Association's membership include many of the bosses, up to Chief Commissioner Graham Ashton.

Every time the government of the day promises to boost numbers it makes the Association more powerful - the recent announcement of a net increase of 3000 will boost revenue by $2.5 million in membership dues.

As it stands the Association makes nearly $500,000 a fortnight in subscriptions, owns its own National Trust building in East Melbourne, a swag of holiday properties, has legal officers, welfare staff, runs a legacy program for police families and has assets of around $45 million.

Sadly it no longer runs the police picnic where as a child your correspondent filled the boot of the family Holden with free Jubbly ice drinks and Senior Constable Jack O'Toole would smash everyone in the woodchop (hardly surprising as he was world champion).

For decades the PA battled along, seemingly adverse to change, determined to protect a moribund seniority system that meant no matter how incompetent, a police officer would be promoted on length of service rather than merit.

Then, around 40 years ago, it all changed during one mass rally at Festival Hall when 4000 police (two in three of the Force's 6000) were one speech away from a strike that would have threatened public order.

The meeting was to protest the findings of a Royal Commission headed by Barry Beach, QC, (later a respected Supreme Court Justice) largely into allegations some police were fabricating evidence ("The Brick") and inventing unsigned confessions ("The Verbal") to entrap suspects.

In 1976 he recommended charges against 55 police. It created widespread anger and talk of a strike. It was at the Festival Hall meeting the then Chief Commissioner Reg Jackson (a former Association President) was given a standing ovation before he delivered his address, telling them to think carefully and remain faithful to their profession.

How history may have been different if the then Police Association Secretary, Tom Rippon, had not convinced Jackson to speak.

And so instead of a strike, police voted for a work to rule campaign until the government agreed to a series of demands including a full review of the proposed charges against the 55. The government agreed, with 32 police ultimately charged and none convicted. For the Association it was a complete victory and the beginning of the union's role as a powerful political force.

In the 1960s a new police constable was paid the same as a trainee tram conductor. Now after a three-month course police are on a wage of $63,000, which is more than a graduate engineer receives after completing a three-year degree.

With nine weeks' annual leave and a superannuation package that leaves many retiring as millionaires, the Police Association negotiates deals from a position of strength. And those who forget do so at their peril. Just ask Jeff Kennett who in 1999 lost what many claimed was an unlosable election.

Jeff Kennett had a well earned reputation as a tough negotiator but then he came up against the then Police Association Secretary Paul "Fish" Mullett - a winner of two police Valour Awards for bravery.

Those with long memories will recall Fish was never big on compromise.

Back in 1983 he and another detective, Jim Venn, had to confront dangerous NSW escapee Ian "Rabbit" Steele in Swanston Street. Steele had committed four bank robberies in Perth, then back in Melbourne abducted a man and forced him to act as his chauffeur for a terrifying 32 hours until he was pulled up by the two police near the old City Square.

Rabbit tried to negotiate his escape by threatening to kill his hostage and then by pointing his sawn off shotgun at the detectives. The detectives concluded the discussion by shooting him in the head and shoulder. He survived, largely due to the thickness of the windscreen and his skull.

Fish tried to persuade Kennett to increase police numbers and just like Rabbit Steele, Jeff tried to stare him down. The Association launched the "Cutting Police Numbers is a Crime" campaign with many police manning polling booths. The Kennett government lost 15 seats and government with many believing it was partially due to a law and order backlash.

The PA now jumps into law and order discussions, pushing for changes in sentencing, parole and bail. It is also working with the Police Department to try and deal with the hidden epidemic in emergency services of post traumatic stress disorder for serving and retired officers.

According to present PA Secretary, Sergeant Wayne Gatt, membership remains high because it is ingrained in the police culture to stick together. "The present issue of terrorism reminds us that we rely on each other."

He said, "Our approach to problem solving is to talk openly with police command and government to resolve issues." For example, the last lucrative pay deal was done without any public sabre-rattling.

*Many years ago I had a discussion with armed robbery squad detective Danny Walsh who was querying a source of a story. He claimed the guts of the yarn warned a suspect that a glitch in the law meant although a victim shot in a stick-up had died he would not be charged with murder.

The conversation soon became heated with Danny suggesting I would no longer receive any information on any investigations. I (filled with hubris and cheap claret) responded that I could find out anything about any job I wanted.

The following morning I woke with a thickish head to learn there had been a major payroll robbery at VicRail at Spencer Street. I ran from Russell Street to the crime scene just in time to see Danny about to embark in his unmarked Holden squad car. I yelled "Sorry about that crack last night" as he waved imperiously in a startling good impersonation of the Queen Mother.

He caught the crooks. I caught a cold.

Danny ended up as a passionate Police Association Secretary who carved a great pay deal for police and helped restore the finances of the union when things threatened to turn ugly.

And we made up. Over a beer at the Police Club.