My earliest experiences
I've shoplifted for years. I'm now 23 and can't stop myself. Oh well, c'est la vie.

It all started aged 10. My parents were rebuilding a classic yacht in a run-down boat yard on the sussex coast in England. I wore blue overalls all weekend to avoid trashing my clothes. The overalls had a large pocket in the front centre position, with access from both sides. we regularly visited a secondhand hardware store for spare parts. This store was a beautiful, dark, cavernous stockpile of bits and pieces. For some reason, I was fascinated by padlocks. I promptly made it my mission to collect them all, pokemon style. I also had various tool, keyrings, sweets, etc. I reckon I must have lifted about £200 before growing my first pubes.

Then, racked with fear one day, I decided to ditch the evidence. Pouring all the gear into a backpack (which I could barely carry), I decided to ditch the bag into one of the giant bins at the boat yard. With the gear in the bag I went for a shower. Upon returning to my room, I walked in on my dad sorting through the bag with a horrified look on his face. That feeling of doom washed over me (you know the one).

Long story short, my dad was majorly pissed off at me. Threatened cops, adoption, etc. Said he'd ditch the gear, but I couldn't help but notice a great deal of the items I'd stolen making their way into his toolkit over the years. Eventually, one of the padlocks I'd stolen locked the boat, and the key was on a floating cork ball keyring of mine as well.

Since then, I went through a phase at secondary school of raiding WH Smiths for parker pens, and now it's pretty much whatever I feel like whenever I'm in the mood.

I wonder if I'll always be like this.
(mofoitk Vulcanising the whoopie stick in the ham wallet, Tue 15 Jan 2008, 15:38, Reply)