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My friend grew up in Gloucester and claims that Fred West was well liked by her parents. Tell us some tales of your local criminals. Did you live next door to Ronnie Biggs? Did Harold Shipman murder your nan? Or perhaps you live in the same town as the shoplifting seagull.

(, Wed 21 Sep 2016, 8:38)
Pages: Popular, 2, 1

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Years ago...
My mate and I were on our way to a fancy dress party, both of us dressed as coppers. We decided it would be a laugh to see if we could actually pull someone over, and when some random cretin screamed past us at 140mph then pulled up at the lights about 100 yards down the road, well, we had our man.

Thing was, when we got to the car, there was a nervous and slightly teary 10 yr old girl in the passenger seat. The driver must have been in a slightly panicked state, because he immediately blurted out that this wasn't his daughter, and he was "babysitting".

Starting to feel like we may have accidentally stumbled upon something quite sinister and our 'joke' may well be about to turn extremely sour, we tentatively asked about the nature of their relationship, and before you can say "entirely fictional", the guy's lost it. The red mist descended and he tore out of the car and pummeled straight into me. I ended up with a black eye, a split lip, a bloody nose and, if I'm honest, a bit of a semi.

Then he reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone, which was apparently recording. No idea why. He switched it off, got back in his car and drove away.

Still don't fully understand what happened, but the incident haunts me to this day.
(Joy Division Oven Gloves Death to false metal
(, Tue 25 Oct 2016, 20:31, 6 replies)
That one time it made the papers
So having lived in the more 'vibrant' parts of Salford, Hull and Leeds here is a story from my small southern hometown.

My best friend growing up lived a few doors down from a family. You know the ones; Mum, Dad and Kids all together in one continuous row. Speed garage blasting from a uninsured cavalier, half the local cops are on a first name basis, etc.

I found this out when I asked him why there was always a police car outside his house. He pointed to a house and said " that's ******'s house". The youngest of the family was our age and would come into school with tales of dysfunction, often prompted by by mate. " what was that banging last night?" "Oh, (older brother) came back from the pub shitfaced and decided to jump off the roof".

My first firsthand encounter with this was also my last. Having only heard stories, and seen the remains of a shed demolished by bricks thrown from three gardens away when a water balloon fight turned rough. visiting my friend's place a frantic bellowing came from outside, we dashed out to see the eldest son and the father having a blazing row.

About what we couldn't tell as the screaming had transcended English, and the belligerent parties had been forced to continue by throwing furniture at each other. Son hurled a TV at his dad, dad dodged and countered with a boombox. Promoting son to smash the dads car windscreen in with a scooter. That was a shade to far, the dad pulled out his phone and called the police. "You cant call the fucking cops, I have to get rid of my fucking drugs first you cunt" screamed the eldest son who proceeded to pull out a joint and light up.

Unfortunately before the calming effects of a nice bifta could take force the police showed up. Having appeared on the scene in a record breaking response time, I can only assume that they would of been heading to the house anyway as a matter of routine. Rather than put out his joint the son decided to get an officer in a headlock while continuing to inhale the evidence. In the end it took two police to bring him down and drag him into the back of the panda car.

What makes this stand out as a truly exceptional case of resisting arrest was what happened next. While both policemen were taking statements the panda car roared into life. While handcuffed in the back seat he had managed to wriggle into the driving seat and hotwire the police car. The resulting high speed chase over five miles of countryside ended up in a ditch and a five year prison term.

His younger brother brought a copy of the local paper to school and would proudly show it to anyone for months afterwards.
(, Tue 27 Sep 2016, 20:15, 2 replies)
My Dad was a copper for 20 years. On his days off he built houses, including his own.
He raised my half-brother as best he could, but it didn't work out and at the age of 16, after various arrests for petty theft, drugs and car related crimes, my brother was kicked out of the family home. My dad and his adopted son hardly spoke for the next 20 years.

So it was quite a surprise when my brother turned up at my Dad's building site with a truckload of timber for sale, going cheap. "Where'd you get that?" my Dad asked, suspiciously.

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," my brother replied with a cheeky grin, or as cheeky as can be when you've lost half your teeth to alcohol abuse and pub fights.

"You're a fucking idiot," my Dad replied. "This wood's wet, I'm a copper, and we live on a fucking island. Did you really think I'd buy stolen salvage off you to build my own fucking house? If any of my workmates turned up right now, we'd both be going to prison. Get the fuck off my property."

My brother is not the criminal mastermind he thinks he is.
(, Wed 21 Sep 2016, 9:04, 1 reply)
Andrew Avatoom's weed-growing, bell-end, ex mate.
That's all.
(, Thu 22 Sep 2016, 19:52, 3 replies)
In 1972, a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit.
These men promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them... Maybe you can hire The A-Team.
(, Fri 14 Oct 2016, 11:24, 10 replies)
When I lived in Notting Hill I was invited to the "Paddington Railway Workers Club" by a mate who was a member
It was just a normal pub inside, and seemed to be mostly off-work taxi drivers. About once every hour or so some chancer would appear in the vestibule between the inner and outer doors. The manager wouldn't let them come inside. And they'd have on them some stuff they'd just nicked. If you wanted you go out there and haggle with them. It was all pretty random loot. 20 blue onepieces from baby Gap. Pots and pans. A used circular saw. It was a side of London you don't normally see
(, Mon 24 Oct 2016, 23:30, 1 reply)
Bastard copper...
So, I'm out in the car. My cousin, who was about 10 at the time, was sat in the passenger seat as I was "babysitting" (for want of a better expression) that day.

Needless to say, as 10-year-olds tend to to, she's egging me on to drive faster and faster. We got to about 140mph along a stretch of dual carriageway before I had to ease off as traffic was building up ahead. Anyway, with the speed down to about 80mph, the blue flashing lights appeared in my mirror and I get pulled over.

The usual script gets read out, about how "dangerous" it is etc etc... "and how would you feel if your daughter there got hurt?" (To be fair, she does look like she could be.)

Automatically I said "she's not my daughter". Before I could finish my sentence with "she's my cousin", this little twat of a copper said "oh right, your girlfriend, you look like a paedo to me".

Needless to say, this did not sit well with me, and the red mist descended. By the time his colleage had got out of the car and held me back, Plod was on the floor, me having repeatedly lamped him in the head. He had a black eye, a split lip and a bloody nose.

Backup arrived, and I retrieved my phone from my pocket, stopped it recording and played the recording back to the uniforms who had arrived. They let me go as soon as they heard it.

Needless to say, Plod whined to the CPS and I got a summons for a. speeding, and b. assaulting a police officer. It gets to court. The recording gets played - at which point the CPS withdraw their case.

I get awarded costs, the copper gets sacked.
(RabidRodent I'm the person your mother warned you about, Mon 30 Sep 2013, 17:46, Ignore, closed)
(, Mon 24 Oct 2016, 13:00, 18 replies)
This Really Happened
Myself and two mates were pulled over in car by local five O... nothing on us but we were a bit pissed off cos it was the third time in two weeks...

Mate1: (to copper) Is it true that if I was to swear at you, say, call you a cunt you could arrest me?
Cop: (very stern)Yes
Mate1: But if was to think that a copper's a cunt there's nothing they could do is there?
Cop: That's right
Mate1: (pauses, mutters "right, right" to himself then walks a bit closer to the copper and talks right into his face)In that case I think you're a cunt.

Fan-fucking-tastic. Cue barrels of laughter from us and a very red-faced copper who's just realised that he actually gave his express permission to have the piss taken
(, Sat 22 Oct 2016, 13:12, 11 replies)
Bloke round here got 12 month for scrumping apples
Well, technically he nicked a load of iPhones, but it's much the same.
(, Wed 12 Oct 2016, 12:49, 3 replies)
an old neighbour of mine
she was a lovely woman, worked in jacob's and gave us all free chocolate biscuits. she spoilt her son rotten, which the other parents tried to warn her about, as he was clearly a little cunt. she always said that giving him what he wanted made for an easier life.
i wonder if his reason for bashing his girlfriend's brains in with an iron was him not getting him what he wanted?
(, Sat 24 Sep 2016, 16:43, 2 replies)
Brotherly Love.
When I was younger there was a group of about 7 us from school that were tight. We used to hang out at school and most days we'd head to a local diner to blow our pocket money in 20c pieces playing Space Invaders and buying 5c mixed lolly bags. The diner was owned by the dad of one of us, his name was Calvin and his dad was Albert. The diner was colloquially known as "Al's". As a group we'd descend on the diner after school and eat and mess about in there until dinner time. For most of us a choc milk usually managed to last the entire afternoon. And for the most part Albert accepted us a Calvin's unpaying friends.

He was fairly easy going apart from a few small sticking points. Al hated the idea of food that wasn't "proper". Anything salt-free or low calorie was frowned upon seriously and was simply not abided by at Al's. His only other strong dislike was criminals. Apparently Al's brother Phil had been involved with drugs and got sent down. After Phil had got out of prison Al had all but disowned him. "Scum of the fuggin' earth!" was how he was referred to if ever. It seems though that Phil's greatest transgression was to be a lover of wholegrain foods, carob and anything lowfat.

So. There we were one day, slurping choc milks, eating snakes and leaning over the tabletop Space Invaders game egging Calvin on when the door chime went off as someone entered. No-one really noticed anything until Calvin looked up sensing something wrong in his dad's silence. This was probably the first time Cal said "Oh shi....." in that unique way that we all do when we see something about to kick off.
There at the counter was Cal's uncle Phil looking like the dero that he was. Al was staring daggers at him. There were words exchanged and it quickly escalated into shouting and blows. It ended with Al throwing Phil out the door saying
"Get tha fug out ya fuggin' hippy, mungbean eating cunt!"


It was all over school the next day, everyone was abuzz and telling each other how there was a Low Cal Crim in Al's...
(, Sat 24 Sep 2016, 13:22, 2 replies)
I live in Coventry

(, Fri 23 Sep 2016, 10:59, 5 replies)
Many years ago...
...I knew a guy called Jim. Friendly lad. Very active in the Students Union and LGBT at university.

Fast forward a few years...

www.theguardian.com/uk/2009/may/07/scottish-paedophile-ring-guilty-child-abuse
(, Thu 22 Sep 2016, 0:01, Reply)
Way back when I was a teenager, I had a Sunday paper round.
It was a bit of an odd arrangement - me and a mate got our papers directly from the wholesaler and flogged them at the retail price, without an additional delivery charge. Not particularly essential to the plot, but the result of this was that our customers paid US directly, rather than a shop.

As we were out and about early on a Sunday, many customers chose to leave the money on their doorstep rather than slouch out of their beds to pay us.

One week I noticed that almost all of my regular payers hadn't left money on their steps. Very odd.

I came home almost with nothing. So did my mate. Someone had obviously been round ahead of us and half-inched our dosh. But how could we prove this? Well perhaps the MASSIVE FUCKING FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW ACROSS EVERY FUCKING GARDEN may have given the game away.

The police were called. The miscreants were apprehended. The money was returned in full.

Of all the fucking weeks to do it, why do it when a thick covering of snow gave away the whole thing? Fucking hell. What a pair of thick bastards.
(, Wed 21 Sep 2016, 12:26, 1 reply)

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