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This is a question Local Criminals

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)
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This question is now closed.

When I was a student I lived in the same halls as this guy.
www.scotsman.com/news/student-kept-child-porn-1-1310394
(, Sun 2 Oct 2016, 23:12, 2 replies)
Well, there's this idiot from my hometown:
www.walesonline.co.uk/news/wales-news/fantasist-stalker-david-miasik-jailed-7684081

And then this idiot lived around the corner from my digs:
www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-141143/White-supremacist-planning-race-war.html
(, Sat 1 Oct 2016, 11:53, 2 replies)
My Mum used to natter away with Mad Frankie Fraser sitting at the bus stop
He was just another old gadgee waiting for the local bus to the Post Office. The Krays used to own the corner shop too. Sounds like that comedy with all the famous folks on a street, but darker.

Lovely guys, tough but fair
(, Fri 30 Sep 2016, 13:04, 1 reply)
That bloke next door
Back in the student days I lived in this shared house with some lovely girlies (I was the only bloke, it wasn't as fun as you might think). This was in the student part of Bath, nice city full of posh twats. The bloke next door was friendly, even helped me lift the engine out of my shit-on-wheels Ford Escort one weekend. We used to chat to him over the garden wall and he was always friendly with the females, being quite young and exotically European. He moved out after about a year and we never saw him again, the new neighbors were more students.

Wake up one morning a year later to a rozzer banging on the door asking all sorts of questions about the bloke who used to live next door, fairly routine with no detail and I was too hungover and confused to really think. Jumped in the car and drove to uni, got stopped in the street by some bloke from the paper asking questions about the neighbor, then got stopped by a TV crew. No one would tell me why they wanted to know so much and I wasn't clever enough to make up a story to sell them so I told them to piss off and went to the uni.

Three days later the police announced on TV the arrest of Vincent Tabak, turns out he killed Joanna Yeats in Bristol by strangulation and had a good collection of kiddie porn. He'd moved to Bristol a year earlier, from the house next door.

It's a small world?
(, Thu 29 Sep 2016, 17:56, 8 replies)
this kid on our estate in london used to throw batteries at us, he probably grew up to be no better than he should have been
also a woman who was always drunk and wore an obvious wig used to shout at us as kids, not really a crime though. lastly a sri lankan dude threatened to throw my friend off the balcony, he was famous in wessex gardens estate
(, Wed 28 Sep 2016, 14:38, 5 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)
hi, i'm from the future where corbyn has won an election and we now live in a crime free utopia
in one fell swoop, corbyn eliminated all crime by treating anything that would've been previously thought of as a crime as a mental health condition. in the future, people are treated rather than punished.

#praisecorbyn
(, Mon 26 Sep 2016, 9:56, 18 replies)
There's a guy works down the chip shop swears he's the original Night Stalker.

(, Sun 25 Sep 2016, 11:05, 4 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)
The town I live in is also home to some footballers
Players for Celtic, Rangers, Motherwell and Hamilton, so they're not famous or even particularly good at football - but they're footballers nonetheless.

www.theguardian.com/football/2016/sep/23/rangers-striker-kenny-miller-arrested-in-connection-with-alleged-brawl
(, Sat 24 Sep 2016, 14:14, 1 reply)
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)
A classmate of mine ended up murdering his girlfriend.
Well this is fun
(, Sat 24 Sep 2016, 1:54, 3 replies)
The evening Thomas Hamilton was on the news after shooting loads of kids and their teacher (and himself),
my dad recognised him as the man who used to run the DIY shop in Dunblane he used to frequent.

Comedy gold.
(, Fri 23 Sep 2016, 23:53, Reply)
I live in Coventry

(, Fri 23 Sep 2016, 10:59, 5 replies)
Friend of mine got married to a lovely girl
At their wedding, her extended family attended and the further away from her you got, the more you started to suspect things were not what they seemed.

Apparently the extended family owned a lot of commercial property in some North London high streets. A war broke out between two other, rival, gangs and properties started to get burned. All apart from those owned by the extended family...

Still, the bar at the very posh hotel was suddenly free because an uncle had put about 20k in cash behind it.
(, Fri 23 Sep 2016, 9:32, 3 replies)
Andrew Avatoom's weed-growing, bell-end, ex mate.
That's all.
(, Thu 22 Sep 2016, 19:52, 3 replies)
my ex
we were together for 9 months, but 6 of those months were when he was in jail. he's one of those petty criminals that never seem to learn but, considering what his family are like, he's probably better off inside
(, Thu 22 Sep 2016, 16:51, Reply)
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)
I am the local criminal.

(, Wed 21 Sep 2016, 22:37, 1 reply)
Ripping
I went to college in that great centre of learning. Bolton Metropoliton.
One of the lecturers, Ronnie Kirkbright, was picked up for the ripper murders twice, as I think he had a similar car.
A year after that, he received a Poice bravery award for saving some girl from drowning.
(, Wed 21 Sep 2016, 19:42, 3 replies)
I used to live over the road
from a guy who thought he was some sort of local gangster. He was a wiry little guy in his fifties . He used to roar down the road in his car, was always on the phone telling people they were "taking fackin' liberties", etc. I once heard him explaining to the guy who ran the corner shop that if you ever need to shank someone, you should go for the neck.

The weirdest time, though, was when I saw him beating up a sign-post. I'm sure he didn't know anyone was watching as I was looking out of my bedroom window at the time. He walked out of his house, looked at the post, and started punching and kicking it for about 30 seconds as through he meant it serious harm. Then he lit a fag and wandered off down the road with a smile on his face.

Fucking nutter.
(, Wed 21 Sep 2016, 14:05, 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)
someone at work was going on about purple aki the other day
I thought he was just a b3ta thing. apparently not!
(, Wed 21 Sep 2016, 12:09, 8 replies)
Ripper Street
A friend of mine lived on Garden Lane in Bradford. He was a mere child when it kicked off with Peter getting his collar felt, so when the hacks descended in their dozens, there was no shortage of kids available to give sound bites in exchange for money and in some cases, confectionery.

I dropped him off home once in the 80's and there was Sonia Sutcliffe cleaning her windows. I didn't notice, but I always imagined she kept a clean step.
(, Wed 21 Sep 2016, 10:55, Reply)
After an 8 year long Crime Spree our local criminal mastermind was Jailed for 5 years
He targeted a farm repeatedly stripping naked and rolling around in slurry whilst masturbating.

When the owners removed the slurry to deter him he did what any normal bloke would do and repeatedly set fire to their shed, tractor, enclosures and hay.
(, Wed 21 Sep 2016, 10:44, 3 replies)
Working in door-to-door sales,
you were allowed to ring doorbells until 21:00 and no later, unless you'd already been to that house and spoken to someone who'd asked you to come back later. This was "doing callbacks".

My boss Mark and his colleague Gareth were doing callbacks one night when some busybody spotted them, two unknown men in suits wandering around in the neighbourhood for no discernible reason, and called the police. The police turned up and said "Mind telling us what you're doing, lads?", so Mark and Gareth said they were just collecting donationsf for charities (technically true). The policeman said "Wait here", went back to his patrol car and started calling in the details.

A few minutes later he came back, turned to Gareth and said "Why'd you give us a false name, Gary?". Turns out Gareth had the same surname and perfectly matched the physical description of a local career criminal called Gary, and the copper was standing there listening to the crackly voice on his radio reading out the litany of Gary's offences: assault and battery, resisting arrest, taking without consent, etc.

Gareth got back to the office much later than usual that night.
(, Wed 21 Sep 2016, 9:55, Reply)
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)

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