You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Shoplifting » Page 2 | Search
This is a question Shoplifting

When I was young and impressionable and on holiday in France, I followed some friends into a sweet shop and we each stole something. I was so mortified by this, I returned them.

My lack of French hampered this somewhat - they had no idea why the small English boy wanted to add some chews to the open box, and saw it as an attempt by a nasty foreigner oik to contaminate their stock. Not my best day.

What have you lifted?

(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 11:13)
Pages: Latest, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, ... 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Not exactly shoplifting
I popped to Spar shortly before christmas to pick up a few treats to eat while watching a movie, and took my 2 year old son with me whoe insisted on carrying the shopping basket. He followed me around dutifully while I spoke on the phone to my wife (if I get the wrong biscuits I'm as good as dead, so I have to constantly clarify what she wants while running errands like this). Anyway, we get to the checkout where the hatchet faced crone behind the counter stuffs everything into carrier bags and scowls at my littly boy who is laughing at a puppy belonging to the person next to me. My attention is also distracted by the son/puppy affair and I just handed over my card, put in my pin and don't bother to check either my receipt or the shopping.

When I got home I check the receipt to find I have just spent fifteen pounds. Fifteen pounds? on emptying the bag I find that my little two year old has put about 12 toys into the shopping basket while I wasn't looking and I hadn't noticed......
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:47, 1 reply)
Not 'shop' lifting so much but a good steal
One night at uni of far too many cheap pints of snakebike & black we discovered that someone had taken a toilet door of the hinges in one of the bar bathrooms. Aiming to go one better than this we decided to pinch it and one small distraction caused and several of us were away with the door pegging it down the main campus thoroughfare whooping "We've stolen a toilet door".

We then took said door on a tour of our friends in various halls to show off our prize and discovered most people are less than impressed when you wake up their whole corridor hammering on the door to show them something you've nicked.

Anyway, it ended up in a friend's bed as we knew they would be out until late and they were bemused to say the least to find it when they staggered back from the pub to flop out on their bed only to find it much less springy than when they left for the evening.

The next morning I woke up to the sound of someone hammering on my door and noticed that during the night the toilet door had mysteriously made it's way into my room. Convinced I'd been rumbled I sheepishly opened the door only to find the handyman come to fix some furniture and a knowing smile when he saw the door. I eventually had to wake up in the dead of night, dress all in black and take the door and dump it somewhere near the bar in the hope that it could be reattached.

Length? About 6 foot
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:45, 2 replies)
Does this really count as theft?
It was a school camping trip donkey's years ago. I don't really remember much about it except that on one occasion we all went swimming at a local leisure centre.

I was one of those kids who couldn't resist pressing buttons. A vending machine in the lobby had plenty of them on, so I pressed a few to wile away the time.

I pressed one, and it dispensed a bag of crisps. I hadn't put any money in it. This was interesting.

Further experimentation showed that about half of the lines in the machine were on free vend. By the time I'd figured this one out, word had spread and we all had our kit bags to hand to stuff full of crisps and chocolate bars.

Having emptied every single line that was vending for free, we went for our swim. By the time we were due to leave, someone had re-stocked the machine, so we did it all again.

I don't think I ever lost any sleep over it.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:41, 1 reply)
A couple (I am Scouse, afterall)
Encountered a slightly stange situatioon a couple of years back, which technically resulted in me shoplifting, I think. When living in that there London village, I did my weekly bigshop in my local Tesco. When I rattled my trolley up to the till one day, instead of the usual "would you like some help with your packing?", the checkout girl greeted me with "they've just terminated my contract" in quite a cheery manner. This seemed a little starnge, until I realised that it was just her explanation for why that she only scanned one out of every five items that I put on the belt, running the others to the bagging area as quick as they would go. Why would you leave someone you've effectively just sacked on the checkout? Weird. I think I paid a fiver for about £50 worth of shopping. I was tempted to go back and get some booze...

And: when I was 13, I used to nick porn mags out of the returns box at the newsagent where I did my paperound, then flog them for a quid a time at school.

Also: I once nicked a "Chaos Space Marine Captain In Terminator Armour" from Games Workshop. I doubt there'll be a geekier theft mentioned in this QOTW.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:40, 1 reply)
Mrs Legless
Stole my heart...
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:39, 8 replies)
Brick Oven
While on a school trip to Berlin, we visited a nearby wartime extermination camp.

On a tour round the camp, I nipped over the fence and took a loose brick from one of the ovens.

Yes, those ovens.

On a previous trip to Berlin I palmed a badge being sold on some stall near the Brandenburg Gate. Germany obviously brings out the klepto in me.

P.S. having just read a post below I shoud add credence to my own by mentioning I too am from Doncaster (doing my bit for Donny tourism)
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:35, 1 reply)
I have never shoplifted
as in taking items from a shop without paying. I may have however misappropriated some items* from work from time to time, although I'm a bit wary of posting details of that on here, for obvious reasons.

However, when I was a student I developed a lightfingeredness unrivalled by any of my circle of friends. In halls, during a room party one night, I cleared the entire surface of my mate's desk (pens, rulers, other stationery stuff, a radio, a metal tankard and an Aberdeen FC scarf among other things) without any of the 20 or so people in the room noticing. Given that his room was about 15 feet square, I was quite proud of this feat. I gave him it all back in the end.


* most of it was low value stuff that would have been thrown out anyway, but it's technically still theft
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:35, Reply)
This still gets right on my tits!
Some years ago I was wandering round a British town centre (no you don't get to know which one) with my parents (yeah, cool I know!). We ambled into a dingy mall of the 1960s murky-glass-ceilinged type that gets completely abandoned as soon as the shiny new shopping centre gets built up the road. My parents stepped into some store which interested me not one bit so I walked over to another shop. It wasn't quite a pound shop but had that feel of selling a wide selection of random cheap household and other goods. As with many of this type of shop in this type of arcade, it had a partially open front, separated from the main body of the arcade by a low barrier. Behind this barrier was the thing that had caught my eye: a load of sunglasses mounted on one of those revolving stands. Naturally I took a pair off the rack and tried them on admiring the new, cooler me in the tiny mirror at the top of the rack.

My reverie was interrupted by the voice of the shop's security guard "Do you know that you've just stolen those?"

"Pardon?"

"You've just stolen those sunglasses. You've taken them out of the shop."

"What? You mean by lifting the glasses from your (shitty) shop over this tiny barrier into the mall I've actually stolen them?"

"Yes."

"And do you think I was actually planning to make off with them?" I asked, putting the glasses back, effectively unstealing them.

Thankfully the jobsworth twunt didn't take the conversation any further. What annoyed me was not that he confronted me with my epic crime, but that the store owners, presumably knowing the anally retentive nature of their security staff, placed the sunglasses display right at the front of the store. FFS! It's almost impossible to walk past one of those displays without trying a pair on.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:34, 1 reply)
Busted
When i were a lad of 4, i was on holiday in sunny Wales with the family and we visited a small village post office to pick up some stamps for the postcards.
Whilst wondering around a keychain supersoaker caught my eye, it was awesome it had the little pump to charge it up an everything, i simply had to have it!

All the begging and sulking i could muster couldn't convince dear old mum to let me have it so i decided there and then i'd chore it for the greater good.
I looked around and saw no one was looking and pocketed it, sucess i thought!

Then i heard some bloody old dear saying 'I just saw some kid put something in his pocket'. I was rumbled, well and truely! Had to get it out of my pocket and deny everything, however being 4 my cunning and wiles were not exactly developed so my lies fell on deaf ears. My mum gave me the old 'i'm not angry with you, just disappointed'

The shame was etched into me of years to come


....until i was in a spoils shop* and stole a gemstone keyring, that'll teach em!


*For those of you who don't know what spoils is/was they sell all the defective products that didn't quite make it to the proper stores, for example the keyring i pinched had chips in the stone and the keyring itself was bent and mishapen



Length: longer than i thought!
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:21, 3 replies)
Theiving Doncaster Bastards
My own story doesn't concern me stealing, but I did act as an accomplice...score!

The school I went to was part of a much larger educational foundation which, at the time, ran 3 schools across the country, one in Gateshead, one in Middlesbrough, and one in Doncaster. The Foundation's head decided it would be a good idea for all of us boys to go on a collective rugby tour taking players from each of the three schools - great idea, we thought.

So there we are, whisked away for a week of fun and rugby games up in Scotland. In between games, it quickly became clear that we had nothing to do, so the teachers decided that there was no better idea than to set us free on the streets of Edinburgh.

Off we went, I was friendly with one of the Doncaster boys, and so we walked around and looked in the shops for a while. It came to the point that he was really bored and decided that we should go into a characteristically Scottish shop and take the piss, so we did. Upon getting no reaction from the shopkeeper we walked out, only to find some tartan hats (attached to an accompanying ginger wig) hanging above the door. My new friend tried one on, gave a twirl and walked out...with it on.

I walked out of the shop to find him sprinting down the street, so me, as a 15 year old alone in a city I didn't know, did the same, absolutely shitting myself. He stopped around a corner and assured me that it was just a joke and not to tell anybody.

We walked back to meet the teachers, when one of them commented on my friend's new hat. 'Oh fuck', I thought, 'they saw, and I'm an accomplice!' To which my friend said 'Oh yeah, sir, nice isn't it? Didn't cost much either, did it nyorsk?'

So there I was shitting myself, whilst he rubbed his shoplifting into the unknowing teacher's face.

As it happened, this wasn't the only example of the Doncaster boys being a bunch of unruly bastards, us Gateshead lads were angels compared to them. I never spoke to him again after, either.

Legnth? You bloody love it.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:20, 1 reply)
Possibly a repost...
I was a devious little bugger as a wee'un, with most adults believing that I butter wouldn't melt in my mouth. Little did they know that I was in fact the Artful Dodger of the small village where I grew up, gleefully half-inching sweeties from the newsagents' on a regular basis.

Y'see, not only was I widely trusted, I'd also developed a fool-proof plan to avoid capture: I would wear trousers with a hole in the pocket, and tuck them into a pair of wellies. So I'd slip my swag into the pocket, and it would slide quickly down the trouser leg and into the boot, where it would remain, undetectable, until I was safely out of sight.

My friends thought I was some kind of criminal genius! I'd show off by nicking stuff in plain view, palming it like a pro while the shopkeeper was distracted. Mainly I stole sweets (specifically, Bazooka Joe because even though I didn't like the gum, I wanted the cartoons), but I also branched out into nicking stationery from the bookshop.

I hid it all inside my Action Man multi-purpose vehicle, which had a large storage pod on the back. No-one ever suspected a thing.

In hindsight, while at the time I felt like some sort of modern Robin Hood, I was really just a petty thief depriving small businessmen of their livelihood.

I hope my kids never read this.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:17, Reply)
Not really 'shop' lifting..
..but when I was ridiculously drunk in a bar in the french Alps, I unscrewed a toilet seat, complete with lid, and stuffed it in the back of my jacket.

It stayed there for an hour or so until we left and then I whipped it out. Understandably, my mates asked me why the fuck I had stolen a toilet seat.

I then threw it over a lamp-post.

I'm approaching 30 so hope I mature soon..
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:16, Reply)
kleptomania
Its a task looking after me. When I'm drunk little factors such as "ownership" and "theft" apparently don't mean very much. I'm like a small child or, perhaps, a caveman. Basically, I'll see something I like and try to take it. This has led to a collection of rubbish building in my student accomodation including;

about 50 beer mats
a beer glass
4 hats
an umbrella
a (now empty) bottle of vodka
a stack of newspapers
a stuffed parrot
a lamp

I've kept all of them except the stack of newspapers because even when you're drunk, a stack of newspapers can only be exciting for so long. I felt most guilty about the lamp when I passed the shop, spied it in there and discovered it was much more expensive than I'd thought.

Ridiculously, my friends stole an orange cone. You'd think that stealing conical pieces of plastic would not come very far up on the list of serious crimes. However, a full scale man hunt, or cone hunt, was launched by security to find the cone with a hefty fine for the culprit. This seems even MORE ridiculous when you know that some of the other students wrecked a set of fire extinguishers and stole all the furniture from the common room (two leather sofas and a leather armchair) and they were only told to return them.

Mad.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:16, 6 replies)
Karma strikes
I stole a line of coat hooks from a dodgy bar as a dare. I hid them down my trouser leg. Unfortunately they were nearly the same length as my actual leg and the combination of trying to walk down the steps to get outside without bending one of my knees and also being moderately inebriated, the enevitable happened and I fell down the stairs. It didn't hurt (as the effects of alcohol provided ample cushioning against the pain) and I hopped down the road giggling like a loon. The next day I was covered in bruises and meekly returned the row of coat hooks to the bar, leaving them propped outside the door - what was I going to do with them anyway? They were rubbish and smelt of beer.

A few weeks ago I accidentally stole some organic rocket leaves from my local Tesco - I didn't realise as they were hidden in the bottom of my trolly until after I'd done the whole self service scan your own food thing and I couldn't be bothered to go back. How appaulingly middle class I have become...
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:15, 1 reply)
When I were a nipper....
...it was the cool thing to do to swipe those plastic keychain thingies that came on pairs of jeans (you must be at least this old to remember them).

So one day, me and my partner in crime were in the clothes shop supposedly examining jeans for purchase (never mind that we were 9 and were looking at the adult size jeans) when the alarm goes off. I damn near shit myself, thinking I was going to go to juvenile hall for swiping cheap plastic shit. The shop assistant came over, and I stood there frozen to the spot. My mind was screaming run, but my bladder was saying, "make one move and you'll be squelching all the way to jail". By this time, my partner in crime had casually walked away and was watching the proceedings form the safety of the street. Bastard.

The assistant came up to me and calmly asked me to step to one side. Which I did. Then he plugged in the alarm cable that connected all the jeans that I had been stepping on, and returned to his desk. I'd like to say that after this scare I stopped my mini crime wave, but in reality it just fuelled more as I came to realise that your average shop assistant is thicker than your average 9 year old.

(and yes, I am so old that when I was young, radio alarm tags were a sci-fi dream)
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:13, Reply)
Why I'm banned from *not Asda, the other one*
I have no idea how this came about as it happened at some point during that hazy time of being 15, drunk and stuck in the town centre with a few friends. After aimlessly walking around for a while, accumalating more and more people through our travels, we decided the best course of action would be to get some more alcohol.

We walked down to the shitness of a place that rhymes with Besco, and glanced with anticipation at all the booze lined up inside. One thing caught my eye. Due to the new layout inside, all the drink was right next to the exit, with bottles of vodka, whisky etc all lined up on the ends of the aisles.

I took it upon myself to be the Captain of the mission and got a 'shopping list' before going in and liberally helping myself. Fuck knows how I did it, in my druken state, but I managed to get around 6 bottles of vodka, whisky and alcopops out of the store and into the hands of my waiting friends.

This was not enough, so in again, grabbing more bottles of stuff off the shelves and shoving it into my jacket, and once again, getting away with it.

The reason I'm banned? They were suspecting me of stealing so caught hold of me when I went in later that night with a friend and proceeded to search me. Not a thing on me at that point, so got banned on suspicion.

He he he. So thanks lax security in Besco for supplying me with enough free alcohol for some very memorable nights!
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:13, 1 reply)
Oh, all right then.
My first ever shoplift was when I was about ten. And the worry that I might have been seen and that I might get into an ocean of trouble played on my mind for days. I had crossed a rubicon. The whole family, as far as I was concerned, would be shamed: the facade of stout, dependable, yeomanry would slip, and we would - somehow - be ceremonially thrown out of the middle class. For my crime was heinous. What I stole was...





... wait for it...




a pistachio nut.



A single pistachio nut.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:12, 4 replies)
When I was at school
we had a local corner shop that we called Ramjam's (it was Birmingham in the early 80's, we were 13 and really very un'pc, what can I say).
Every lunch time was a competition to see who could come out with the most filthy loot, with additional points for cumbersome and large items.
Following the loss of a cheap plastic tennis set they decided to only allow 3 school kids in at a time and put a 'minder' on the door.
This just upped the ante, and although plastic tennis sets were now out of the equation, over the following years we managed to free them of many packets of pickled onion monster munch, space raiders and assorted bubble gum.
The one confectionary to avoid the clutches of my wank spanners was sherbet dips - too high on the shelf. A few attempts at a quick 'up sleeve' technique, but the packets were too wide to fit up my blazer.
My failure will haunt me forever.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:12, 1 reply)
@Legless
You'd better not post on this one mate or your arch nemesis Musuko will be down on you like a ton of fucking bricks ;-)
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:10, 3 replies)
Horay the festive season
During the festive season I like to amuse myself by pilfering christmas baubles from public and shop displays. Now this isn't really shoplifting, as my #1 rule of kleptomania is if its for sale you cannot steal it - I only like getting my hands on that which is unavailable to the average customer.

I only nick a few a year but my collections coming along nicely.

I also systematically stole 7 or 8 lemons and limes the last time I had a big night out, through a small window above the back of the bar. Futile.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:10, 2 replies)
Not me, but my flatmates at uni
Once stole a 8-foot Christmas tree from the Leicester city centre.

They were out on the piss (I was off at a friends house watching Buffy, I was hardcore) when the came across the Santa's Grotto style display Leicester city council had set up that Christmas in the city centre.
This featured a number of fibreglass elves, reindeer and so on, plus loads of huge Christmas trees.

Deciding that our halls could use some Christmas cheer, the guys jumped the fence and proceeded to haul off the smallest of the trees - a still-impressive 8-foot tree covered in fake snow.

They'd got halfway up the street when a police car pulled up next to them and the officer told them to "Put it the fuck back".
After watching the lads put the tree back and making sure they had started to walk home, the policeman drove off, at which point the guys ran back, grabbed the tree again and legged it home with it.

Having spent the night elsewhere and then going straight to bed when I got in, I knew nothing of the night's exploits.
So imagine my confusion when I walked into our kitchen to find an 8-foot christmas tree (in a tiny student kitchen) dominating the room.

The guys had even wrapped kitchen utensils in newspaper and put them under the tree, and decorated it with kitchen foil.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:08, Reply)
"He stole a yellow ribbon"
At the age of 5 I saved up to buy a giraffe keyring from my local village shop, the woman over-charged me by 10p. Now back in 1982 10p was a lot of money, you could buy a British Leyland "Princess" car for that (the sporty one with extra brown).

So the next time I was there I stole a yellow ribbon costing 10p, and I did it under the nose of my mother and the old bag that ran the place. Did such an early experience of successful vigilante justice have a lasting effect on me? Not really, but I am a bit obsessed with being overcharged or shortchanged. I always check my supermarket receipt before leaving; you would be surprised how often items "accidentally" get swiped twice.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:07, Reply)
Did the usual as a child
Buying bags of penny sweets, and fiendishly declaring that there were only 10 pence worth of sweets in my bag, when I'd brazenly filled with with 12pence worth. Ha!

A friend stole a security mirror out of a bank, which was quite impressive. Certain banks, which only have atms inside, allow people in at weekends\over night, by swiping their cards in the door. My friend snuck into one bank, trenchcoat and balaclava clad, stole a bin, went down the road to another bank, and used the bin as a step when dismantling the security mirror fixings with his socket set. Was a great talking point in his flat till it broke.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:06, 1 reply)
Not quite shoplifting, but theft none the less.
In the last tortuous year I spent in my former high school I was feeling mildly rebellious and thus decided to make an effort to get back something for my time wasted there. Since I did no schoolwork already I couldn’t use that so I resolved to get back at them through the magic of theft.

Before I left I made off with:
-About 20 very large, totally blank, sketch pads
-40 or so mouse balls
-Most of the keys off several keyboards
-6 compasses worth around $50 each
-Several text books
and much more

As well as this, on my last day I very casually wandered up to a nearby wall in full view of many teachers and took down two large plaques relating to drama or something. I rarely kept any of this. Most of it I threw into a nearby lake.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:05, Reply)
VHS Apocalypse...
Pea-Roast...

When I was about thirteen I was unlucky enough to experience the dreaded Grange Hill-esque act of being caught shoplifting.

After my mum tearfully picked me up from the police station with my Brother and Sister in tow sniggering, the tense car journey home was made all the worse with the words "Wait til your Father gets home" ringing in my ears.
I was sent to my room to await my fate.

Once my drunken Father came home , I heard his happy whistling turn into a roar of anger as he hurtled up the stairs toward me. I braced myself as he kicked open the door and launched himself into a frenzy.
About fifteen minutes of him kicking and punching me round the room ensued, along with yanking my "stupid fucking hair" and threatening to rip it off my head.
Embarassingly enough I had been caught stealing a 'Monster Squad' video, so dear old dad removed each of my prized videos from my collection one by one and stamped them to pieces in front of me.

"Not the Batman pleeease…"
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:03, 1 reply)
Comedy Booze Pilfers
It's not really theft if:

a) It belongs to the council
b) You're pissed

Walking home from pubs and clubs in my misspent youth I've attempted to outdo several friends with post pub swipings, which usually consisted of Men At Work signs and the occasional plastic bollard.

However, sometime in the early 1990s the councils got wise. And devious.

Walking home with friends one evening I see a brightly lit bollard sat there in the middle of a traffic island just waiting to be half-inched.

I launch into a full blown pelt toward the bollard, with the intention of using my weight and momentum to break it free from its bolts and claim my prize...

"Fuuuuuuuck!"

Unlike the bollards I was used to, which were made of a brittle plastic which usually shattered at the base, this bollard was constructed of something different entirely.

Imagine my surprise when the bollard sank underneath my weight, before catapaulting me backwards in the direction I'd came from, like a dirty great siege engine.

After receiving a sharp lesson in kinetic energy, I sat on the floor dazed and staring at the triumphant bollard which appeared to be mocking my feeble effort.

I did the honorable thing, gave up and swiped a traffic cone instead.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:02, 1 reply)
Not a 'shop'
I worked for the housekeeping department of a large chain hotel with a name that sounds like 'Harriett'.
The room I worked in was where they kept all the stuff you all (and I) swipe from the bathroom / tea tray.

Now I have a bit of a 'thing' for biscuits, so a fair quantity of those went missing. Pillow chocolates are tastylicious too. I suppose you could consider a disposable toothbrush (several actually) as useful, but why the fuck a 16 year old boy would want umpteen;
Shower caps,
Sewing kits,
Crappy biros,
4-page(!) branded notepads
and innumerable miniature bottles of (not very nice) body lotion / shampoo and miniature soaps.

Is this kleptomania?

Aside from that, I found a stash of top quality razz mags in the store room (presumably amassed by my weekday counterpart) which slowly found their way home with me.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:00, 2 replies)
I'm Constantly
Nicking things from the corner shop I work in.
Generally wee things - the odd chocolate bar, a bag of crisps etc....

Last thing I nicked was two packets of those milkshake straw things - you know the ones? Milkshake powder inside a straw, saves you stirring?

Anyway, got them home, opened one - it was absolutely smegging disgusting.

To be fair, I do work in there 8 hours straight and they *did* tell me to help myself to anything bar the alchohol.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:00, Reply)
On being an exploited employee
In my youth in the 70s I was a paper boy for RS McColls. I made the princely sum of £1.80 a week for the privilege of getting out my bed at 6am and traipsing the streets in all weathers and getting home just in time to go to school. I figured they owed me big time.

So I used to be waiting at the door at opening time when the manageress showed up. She'd of course have to go through the back to get into her overalls and have her cup of tea giving me ample time to get all light fingered with the sweetie & porn stock.

Now I had (and still have) a very sweet tooth but even I couldn't consume the prodigious amounts of confectionery that I was purloining daily. So I started a healthy little cottage industry at school selling my ill gotten gains thereby supplementing my income very nicely thank you very much.

More to follow. I was the bad lot your parents told you not get in tow with.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 12:00, Reply)
Back when I was a scummy backpacker.
I had a job in a chain of sex shops in Sydney.

I used to leave with my pockets stuffed with poppers to sell around the hostels.

And taking boxes of porn from one shop to another by taxi, nearly always involved selling some of said porn to the taxi driver.
(, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 11:59, Reply)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Latest, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, ... 5, 4, 3, 2, 1