Nicking stuff
When I was a kid, I had a pair of trousers which had holes in the bottom of the pockets. I'd put on a pair of wellies, go to the newsagent and drop stuff into my pockets when the owner's back was turned. It'd drop through the holes into my boots, so there were no giveaway bulges and the one time I was caught, they checked my pockets and of course found nothing. I got really good at it, my mates thought I was some kind of criminal mastermind. I used to specialise in half-inching Bazooka Joes, but I'd throw away the bubblegum because I didn't actually like it: I just wanted the little comics and tokens.

The only time my light-handed tendencies manifested themselves as an adult was when they shut down the computer magazine I was working on, and made us all redundant. They were kind/stupid enough to give us unsupervised access to the office so we could use the computers and 'phones to look for new jobs. So of course it was bonanza: all the computers were stripped down for parts and the boxed software was gone too. But I won, because I nipped down the fire escape with the brand-new, £1000+ laser printer*. Fuck me, it weighed a ton and I had to walk miles to get to the bus stop. Worth it though.

* New enough that a few months later, when it went wrong, I actually called the manufacturer to come out to my house and fix it on-site because it was still in warranty. Bargain!
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Mon 3 Sep 2007, 10:42, Reply)