Hairy Crime Fighter
I live in Hong Kong. Once upon a time I was wrapping myself round some of the merchandise at KFC (yes, I know, I should have been eating local food. But I was having beers that night, and, well, noodles don't hit the spot in the same way as a zinger burger). All was sweetness and light as the grease trickled slowly into my waiting gullet when there was a rumpus.

My fellow patrons looked up from their "chicken" to see what was happening. One Chinaman (Chinaman A) seemed to be hitting another Chinaman (Chinaman B) with, in what was a stroke of brilliance, a "slippery when wet" board. Chinaman B parried all the moves fairly effortlessly, which seemed to drive Chinaman A into a Rumplestiltskin-like, foot-stamping fury.

Knowing that the local Hong Kongers don't really go in for intervention, and that the fight was ruining business, I thought I'd try to settle the fracas myself, so I stood up and shouted "Oi."

Now, I was the only gweilo (foreigner) in the place, and, more pertinently, had a big handlebar moustache. I'm a fairly wee chap, but both brawlers were so shocked at the introduction of the exotic facial hair that they stopped, stared and then proceeded to buy some criss-cut fries. There was no more trouble after that.
(I grew it myself, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 14:17, 3 replies)

Just remembered...
Oh, I've just remembered one. (Similar to Colonel Dracula's story).

Back in my drug-addled youth (well, four years ago) we went on a night out around town. While walking back to my friend's house to continue the session - there were about 5 of us in tow - we came across some lads who had got an old Astra stuck with its front wheels in a muddy ditch. They were trying to get it out, and mud was flying everywhere as the wheels spun uselessly.

So we decided to give them a push. Even with all of us pushing, it still wouldn't move. I got into the driver's seat and tried to back it out. It still wouldn't budge - and my overzealous application of the accelerator dug the wheels in deeper. Oh well - we wished the guys in the car good luck, and continued on our way.

Next day me and my mate walked past on our way to pick her daughter up from her mum's. The car was still there. Had a quick look and noticed it had been hotwired.

Oops.

Don't know if it was my crap driving that actually foiled their plan, though...
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 13:43, Reply)

Southport...full of idiots
I've seen one lad try to threaten a deaf friend of mine with a knife, and couldn't work out why my mate didn't even look at him.

I was nearly on the floor with laughter when he told me later in the day he always turned his hearing aid off when he was out in the street, "No cunt ever worth talking to" were his exact words...

Brilliant
( Agnostic Antichrist Baltimora, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 13:31, 3 replies)

Grand Theft Auto : Reading
About 10 years ago I was walking through town on my merry way to lectures when I came across two Asian gentlemen trying to push start a car. I saw a chance to do my good deed for the day, “Need a hand?” I quipped as I joined the bloke at the rear of the car. We pushed for all our worth as his friend in the drivers seat turned the ignition key, dit-dit-dit-dit, dit-dit-dit-dit, dit-dit-dit-vruuum!

Hurrah! it started. The chap I had been pushing with gave me a nod of thanks, jumped in the passenger seat and they were away. I stood there basking in my own saintliness, that warm feeling of a good deed done, I had single handedly improved race AND student relations in Reading, I imagined those gentlemen discussing that helpful young man, nay, that good samaritan who had shown them that if we all work together in harmony we can achieve anything.

My self-reverence was broken by a man who looked and sounded just like Apu from the Simpsons, running down the middle of the street waving his arms and shouting, "That is my car! THAT IS MY CAR!"

Doh
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 13:23, 2 replies)

Crime of the century? Er, not quite
I wasn’t actually witness to this. But I was the victim, and I'm using rachelswipe's tactic of filing this under the 'whatever' category...

When I moved in with the sweary one, there were some logistical problems to overcome. I moved at extremely short notice – we got back from holiday and I found out that a completion date on selling my house had been agreed without actually consulting me, which gave me three days to pack and move or the deal would fall through. This I had to do pretty much on my own – I couldn’t get a removal company at such short notice, so did pretty much the lot in the back of a Citroen Saxo. Which was fun. We did manage to get a transit van for the bigger stuff, like my sofa. Oh, and the Dalek… Possibly the most stressed I’d ever been during a move (and, bear in mind that when I actually bought the property I was going through a marriage break up, my mother-in-law was dying, my sister had decided to get married that weekend, and my brother decided to have my niece Christened then as well). However, in comparison to this occasion, that time was a picnic.

Anyway, the logistical problems were down to the need to clear space at her’s, but compounded by the fact that we were getting a new carpet for the living room, so it seemed a bit pointless in installing my personal bits and bobs – books, DVDs, CDs etc until this had been done and we’d got the new bookcases installed. Not to mention all the other stuff. So a lot of it stayed in the lobby downstairs. However, despite filling the lobby with boxes, and also spilling into her son’s bedroom (resulting in him having to spend a few nights at his grandparents while we got the place sorted), space was still at a premium. And so, we found ourselves having to store stuff outside in the porch. Like my very expensive cabinet aquarium, for example. Or a box of pans worth around £150 that I’d inherited. And loads of other stuff as well, all in boxes. We basically didn’t have any choice, but were reasonably happy that the stuff would be safe as it was pretty much out of site to anyone.

What about the crime, you ask? Patience, I’m coming to it.

Couple of weeks later, we went off with some mates to a bikers gathering (we’re not bikers, we were there purely for the bands and the beer). A combination of torrential rain and several thousand people had turned the fields into the usual British festival quagmire, and my regulation Caterpillar boots ended up being, well, completely ‘shitted up’, to coin a phrase. To the point where I ended up being a good two inches taller than I actually am, thanks to the addition of a layer of compacted clay onto the soles of said boots. When we got home the next day, I decided to take my boots off outside and leave them in the porch until the mud had dried, after which I would clean them up.

Now, I can be a bit of a procrastinator (oh, alright then, a lazy bastard) sometimes, and two weeks later, the boots were still there, nestled in among the rest of the stuff in the porch that was still waiting to be re-homed in the flat – it was proving to be something of a long process. Having gone downstairs in the morning for a smoke, I glanced at my faithful old boots and made a mental note to fetch the boot polish, and a cloth, and get them spruced up again. Plus, I was starting to miss their comfort. So, about an hour later, I popped back downstairs again with the intention of carrying out this monumental task…

They were gone. No where to be seen, anywhere. You know that moment of sheer disbelief when you find yourself looking for something in places where you know something definitely isn’t because you can’t quite believe what your eyes are telling you? Well, that was me. I looked in the bins, in the shed (which I had to move a load of stuff to do), on the shed roof… I even tried going back inside and coming out again (I kid you not). Nope. Gone. Vanished.

Nicked. From a porch that contained an aquarium worth around £450, a box of high-tech pans worth £150, plus various other boxes containing all sorts of useful paraphernalia – extension leads, cutlery, crockery… And the thief decides to nick a pair of battered old Caterpillar boots that were utterly caked in mud and had a hole in the sole.

I hope they were too small for the bastard and made his feet hurt.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Mon 18 Feb 2008, 13:12, 10 replies)

terrible pickpocketing attempt
Years ago, I was with my dad on the tube. I was about 19 at the time, a student on a break, and had met him after a meeting, where he'd untypically had to wear a suit and carry a briefcase.

I'm sitting down and he's standing, jacket over arm, case between legs. We don't look like we're together.

A guy of about my age, actually quite cute, gets on the train and stands in front of my dad. The train moves. It gets to the next stop, and jolts slightly, as they are wont to do. However, the bloke's reaction to it is way over the top, as he lurches forwards and very obviously tries to pickpocket my dad's jacket pocket. It was such a fumbled attempt, my dad starts laughing. So do I.

The kid tried to get off the train but was hemmed in, and so had to put up with five minutes of me and my dad laughing at his poor attempt and giving him pointers whilst the rest of the carriage started joining in.

Poor bloke was redfaced when he ran off at the next stop.
(niceandwarmandhot vive la résistance, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 12:50, 1 reply)

Local papers in 'bored journos' SHOCKER!
The other year my mum turned out for the annual street fair held in our nearest town in West Suffolk, she was mildly irritated by two gaggles of spotty 12 and thirteen year olds chucking chips at each other swearing a bit, so told them to piss off, which they did.

Imagine my surprise when, a week later the following eadline appeared in the local paper :
'GANG WARFARE BLIGHTS STREETS OF SUDBURY'

The headline roared, before going on to relate, in lurid(well, lurid for a once-weekly local rag) detail as to how the Sudbury Christmas Street Fair had been ruined by gangs engaging in 'running battles' all through the town centre, bemoaning at great length the fact that the local coppers were busy elsewhere dealing with 'minor traffic offences'.

Turned out they were busy nicking a member of their staff for drink-driving..
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 12:48, Reply)

I witnessed the biggest crime to humanity and the planet.
And took this picture:

www.onlineamiga.co.uk/stuff/wheresyourchild.jpg

Dispicable! Bring back the death penalty!
(Miggyman, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 12:47, 10 replies)

Selfriges
Had this sent to me today:

www.onlineamiga.co.uk/stuff/selfridges.jpg

Think its quite fitting :)
(Miggyman, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 12:46, Reply)

On the theme of shit muggers....
Circa '98 I got cornered in a jungle/drum n bass rave by 2 blokes much bigger than me, who due to the loud music didn't use vocal demands, one of them just went straight for the pockets.

I managed to pull his hand from my trouser pocket, and leaning towards his ear asked "what do you want" - his response was "money for a drink".

So I stuck my hand into my pocket full of change, and handed him 2 whole pounds. I then walked off leaving him to admire the shiny goldish coins.

10 years on it still makes me smile that I got away with that one - I had about £200 in notes in my back pocket :)
(Reverend Samson Fapohunda B3tan, B3tan, B3tan, B3tan, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 12:28, Reply)

Bam
Saw a dude getting the mortal crap kicked out of him in town a few months ago by a small gang.
Stood there for a moment (was about 100m away) pondering wether to go help this poor soul when i realised the following

1) they were all drunk
2) there were 5 people doing the beating
3) i didn't know the guy getting kicked in
4) didn't know the situation

with those four points factored into the equation i turned around and buggered off.

Sod getting my arse kicked saving some drunk!



length - 20 seconds of deliberation
(Xyphious : Sinkin' Gin since '85, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 12:20, Reply)

As I mentioned...
In my previous posts, I've lived in some pretty damn awfull places in my time, but this episode takes me right back to when I was a wee nipper of 16/17ish years old.

As is the case for many people that live in semi rural areas the want to escape at the weekend was a regular one - we'd all pile on the bus/train and go into birmingham city center...

Now at this age I was far from innocent of the ways of the street - but I am often not the sharpest tool in the box - and have been known to do some fairly ridiculous things...

~~Wavey lines~~

So our day of wandering the shops, smoking a one skin joint - and trying to chat up the fairer sex had come to an end and we were all sat on the platform awaiting our train - when we notice two blokes in the thier mid twenties walk past us... typical chavy scum looking blokes.

Whilst my mates minded thier own business and carried on staring at their feet I couldn't help but blatantly stare at what these fellas were doing...

The one proceeded to pull from his bag the largest clingfilmed wrap of white substance I have ever seen - about the size of 2, 20 decks sellotaped together. This intrigued me - I had tried speed and coke and I enjoyed both - I wanted some...

I think it was at about this time I nudged one of my mates and pointed - just at the very moment the dealer/scum/detrose decided to look over having noticed me a couple of times looking their way...

Shit I think - oh well - I'm going to die - cheers nice knowing you guys etc etc...

Sitting there shaking, the two blokes start their monkey dance walk back past us - when the bloke kicks me full pelt in the side of my leg - it didnt hurt - but I didnt tell him that...

Now at the very same station - what is it with criminal activity and train stations - outside in the parking area having a fag we realise theres a huge police cordon with lots of police people, doggies and television cameras...

How fun, we dont get this ever where we live - lets see whats going on - so a good friend and myself go for a bit of a wander - then notice a pool of blood just inches from the barrier - my mate paul tries of course to dip his foot into it - just at this point I recoil - not from disgust I just didnt want to be associated with him - stumbling backwards, yes thats right - I kicked a nun in the shin...

Oh a bloke went mad at his wife and son, and decided out front of newstreet station drop off zone was an ideal place to stab them - one died but I cant recall which... Nice :(

So kids, if you want to commit a crime, choose new street station - its beautiful!!!
(feedingtimeatthezoo day 1 of his bikini diet started, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 12:16, 2 replies)

My brother;
Some call him the Kojak of electrical goods, some call him The Dirty Harry of DVD's or The Sweeney of wobbly-wheeled trolleys. (Ok, I just take the piss because he's a Tescos security guard.)

He related a tale of some kids (7 - 9 years old) he caught shoplifting a week or two ago. They had the usual kids loot; a few DVD's, some sweets and stationery etc. But he'd been watching on the camera since they came into the shop and seen everything else they'd taken, so knew the few things they'd admitted to and handed over while the police came, weren't all they'd picked up.

Upon the police turning out their pockets, what were suspected to be condoms were actually disposable vibrating c0ck-rings. Apparently the constable had said "What are you doing with those? Do you even know what they are?"

To which the pre-pubescent petit pilferer replied;

"Whey-aye man! They're for stickin' on ya' cheb-end when ya' fukkin ya lass in't tha!

Legth: Diminutive, yet satisfactory thanks to assisting stimulus I presume?!
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 12:09, Reply)

Griffin Close #3: The Guns of Northfield
Why would a fresher think (a) that a very convincing immitation handgun is a necessity, (b) that carrying it openly is a good idea, and (c) that it wouldn't be confiscated within about three seconds by the supervisors?


It turned out to be an air pistol, so, of course, before handing it to security, we primed it, put an "England's Glory" down the barrel, and, banking on the friction of match-head against air, used it to light the gas oven from the other side of the kitchen. Happy days.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 12:01, 2 replies)

This made me ROFL
www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_2732412.html?menu=

Little old lady trying to rob a post office...

It was the image of the last sentence that got me...

"What's blue and fucks grannies?

Me in my lucky blue coat"

Edit: It's purple... bollocks
(Nuclear Ninja like a radioactive Chuck Norris..., Mon 18 Feb 2008, 11:58, 1 reply)

Shoplifters in Sainsbury's
I foiled many a would-be shoplifter in my time as a shelf-stacking/floorboy/warehouse monkey in a small Sainsbury's. I was based in the Beers, Wines and Spirits (BWS) dept so most of the junkies would come my way looking to rip the security tags off a bottle of Jack Daniels or batteries, but a lot of the time they would just leg it with the tag still attached.

The guards were useless so on more than one occasion I too legged it out after them, fortunately never being attacked and always bringing back the goods...one time I even received a round of applause from some tourists. Which was nice.

I was fortunate on one occasion, I caught up with the guy, took the Jack Daniels and the sushi(!) off him, and he started to go for me...and was promptly slammed into a wall by two of the 6 policemen who'd seen us and had come bundling out of their meat wagon. Good timing lads!

I eventually stopped chasing them and just approached them in the shop and told them to piss off. It's amazing how much a junkie will plead his innocence despite the fact I stood and watched him rip the tag off the bottle. Even more so when it's still stuck to his fingers...
(Zutroy started without you, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 11:51, Reply)

Apparently I was wanted for one...
...Teddington contains an odd selection of people, but this one just confused the hell out of me.

My friend and I were walking home, we were about 14/15, ergo still in school uniforms, when this bloke wanders up alongside me, produces a piece of paper and mumbles in my ear:

"I've got a warrant here for your arrest."

Christ on a pogo stick! Shurely this is a case of mistaken identity?

"Um...ok, why have you got a warrant for my arrest?"
"What school do you go to?"
Given the name of the school is stitched onto my fecking blazer, I thought he could have worked that out, so I persisted...
"I don't understand: What am I supposed to have done?"
"What school do you go to?"
FFS...
"Teddington. Now what am I sup..."
And he just wanders off. Didn't even want to know who I was. I remain perplexed to this day.
(LongJohnBaldry, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 10:50, 11 replies)

She must like it rough.
Odd how things happen in time for qotw.

On Saturday night, we'd been to a friends for drinks/smokes. We decided to walk the couple of miles home and on the way, seen a young couple having some kind of altercation in a bus shelter. (Stop sniggering at the back!). We were on a bridleway parallel with the road and, I think) remained unseen.

When I got close enough to see what was happening, it looked like this young woman was taking a serious shoe-ing from her bloke and both seemed to be even more pissed than myself. I think now that it may have sounded worse than it actually was. She was screeching like a banshee while he slammed her a few times against the bus-stop (creating a bass-drum effect) then flung her to the floor a few yards away.

My eyes widened from their cannabinoid slits to what felt like saucer-wide while the hairs stood up on my neck and my pulse quickened. All of my senses heightened to gather as much information as possible while deliberating whether to intervene. I couldn't just watch this girl be attacked in her man-friend's drunken fury. I have a young daughter myself. How would I feel if passers-by stood aside as she was beaten?

Then the deciding factor came. She picked herself up, screeching more obscenity peppered incomprehensibleness as she made her way back toward him. My view was obscured again but I then heard;
Him - "You berra fuggin gerrroff us"
Her - "Grreeeahhhheeaa"
*BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM* (Her being thrown against bus stop)
Him - "If you don't stop bitin' 'us ahhll fuggin deck yer!"
*Smack*
Her - "Urrgghhh BASHHHHAAAAAADD!!!"

At that point, Mrs Cloud and I ambled merrily on our way. There had been another young man next to them who also appeared not to intervene. I mitigated with myself that she seemed to give almost as good as she got, and asked for the rest, and that it would not be on my conscience alone if something serious occurred. Asides the normal instinct for self-preservation.

I still can't help thinking how shit I would feel if the incident turned up on the news as a serious attack or worse.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 10:43, 2 replies)

crime 1950's style
Back in the day my granddad used to be a biker. His pride and joy a new Triumph was stolen. Given that petrol was rationed at the time the thieves were restricted to driving it around the local area, as as such were caught within a week.

At the trial, bike thief was given a 18month suspended sentence. when the case before , a single mother who stole a bottle of milk off a doorstep got a year inside.

My granddad, pleased to get his bike back, always noted that not much justice was going on that day.

He didn't stay to find out the outcome of the next case: an 11 year old who murdered his parents with a hammer.

If you take the time to listen to the older generation you learn to take assertions that "were all going to dogs, the youth of today, etc" with a pinch of salt.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 10:21, 4 replies)

The polite mugger
I went to London to gawp at the big city and was excitedly standing on an underground platform waiting for the tube. In front of me was a small crowd of people including a girl at the front with a shoulder bag and, I noticed, a young black guy who appeared very nervy. He was twitching shiftily and my Guardian-reader head said 'Maybe he's on his way to take an exam,' but my Daily Mail head said 'well why is he sweating and looking shiftily at that girl's bag then?' My two minds conferred and came to the right-wing conclusion that he was about to commit a financially motivated malfeasance.

So, do I call the girl over on some pretext and defuse the situation or do I shout 'Look out love, there's a mugger behind you?'

Or, soft cunt, do I stand there like a lemon hoping everything will be OK?

Guess.

Anyway, tube train pulls up, girl steps toward doors, mugger grabs bag, turns and rapidly pushes his way back through the throng, almost pushing people over and suddenly he is face to face with yours truly.

It seems like a slow-motion moment and as we eyeball each other he actually says 'Excuse me!!!'

Well, being British, I stand aside and let him through as girl without handbag legs it after him! (At least I avoided the temptation to respond 'Certainly, young man' as I stepped aside.)

Oh, the shame.
Oh the horror, the horror...
(fergus the bogeyman Beware of geeks bearing gifs!, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 9:48, 1 reply)

Off-license robbery
At the off-license opposite my house, I witnessed somebody walking towards it while openly brandishing a small handgun.
I immediately called the police (the local police station is actually only in the next road) and notified them of what I saw, and told them that if they were quick, they could catch them in the act.
I peered through my net curtains, and watched and waited, and waited, and waited.....

and waited....

and waited....

and waited....

and waited....

what was the fucking point of calling the police?

and waited...

and waited...


And after an hour the police arrived.

Of course, by his time the robbery had happened, and finished, and they had gone.
( turb0t, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 9:07, 4 replies)

Guy Punches Mong in Pub, Assualt on Cyborg
In me old local, before a gang of bikers bought the place there was a rather weedy landlord who allowed a gang of rough drugged-up youths to drink in the corner, as he was literally too shit-scared to ban them. They were a bit rowdy and were taking coke in the toilets a bit too often, otherwise apart from looking threatening they weren't that bad if you left them to it.

One particular night however they were put to use. A local mong called John was drinking in the pub. Quick history lesson; John the Mong was as such because when he was younger he was a drunk car-thief who totalled a stolen car, killing an innocent bystander in the process and was left mentally retarded. The police took this into consideration and John was after many years of rehabilitation left alone as they thought the injuries were more damning than any prison cell.

Cue present day minus 12 months. John's drinking a pint minding his own business when a 6 foot short-haired guy sees him and starts shouting "MURDERER!" at him. John, who can hardly walk straight when sober turns around and tries to say something back to him.
"Wha you on about? I 'e done nothing.."
With this the unknown bloke smacks John onto the floor. Now this did shock us a bit, seeing a retard getting smacked, but it shocked and disgusted the gang of 15 druggies sitting around the pool table in the corner more. What happened next was half the pub being smashed up with this bloke and his mate being beaten around the tables. Somehow I managed to get to the entrance of the bar and stood behind it, stopping 3 chavs trying to get behind there. One of them went to hit me when I laughed and said "If you get behind here, everyone in the pub gets hurt. Just continue to beat that cunt on the floor please" and smiled, somewhat confusing the chav into doing just that. Oops. Still, surprisingly no-one got glassed and when the Police and Ambulance crew turned up I mingled into the crowd back with the missus, and just told Police that someone smacked a mong and a gang of youths didn't like it.

Oh well...oh, while we're on the subject of mong beating....

Me dad works in a warehouse where they deliver medical equipment to the disabled and elderly. One day, while he was talking to his mate called R (protecting the guilty here btw) a guy in a wheelchair rolled up behind them and dug his nails right into R's inner thigh while twisting it, just to get R's attention.
"Oih you useless cunt, get me...."
Me dad never knew what he wanted as R spun around and punched the cyborg 7 times in the face, leaving him unconscious on his wheels. They both went on fag-breaks (even though my dad doesn't smoke) and left him in the middle of the loading bay.
No-one was ever done for this, as it turns out he'd pissed off the management there too just before trying it on with R. That'll learn 'im.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 7:57, 1 reply)

The chocolate thief
I was in the local supermarket which was undergoing some minor renovations. As such their security gate which beeps at you was disabled, you could wander in and out.

I was wandering through the fruit aisle when I saw a guy carrying a huge handful of cadbury's blocks, the family sized ones. He must have had 10 of them in total.

As I went into the next aisle, who should I spy but Mr Chocolate, stuffing the blocks into the front of his tracksuit top. He then walked out the door and into the carpark.

I wasn't going to chase him down myself but I went to the desk, pointed after the guy and said "that guy just walked out with about sixty bucks worth of chocolate!"

Blank stares.

"What?"

You know that feeling you get when you see something, like a meteorite flashing across the sky, and you say "Wow, look at that!" and point, and your friend looks at your hand, then your face, then back to your hand instead of the sky? I felt like that, they were missing it entirely.

"The guy who walked out just now had about sixty dollars worth of chocolate down his top".

The two staff members exchanged looks. One of them slowly walked to get a better view of the doors, then walked back and looked at me rather blankly.

"Um.." They looked at each other again.

"He was wearing a blue tracksuit and a cap, and he had handfuls of chocolate blocks."

I start getting the feeling that they're not going to call some code over the PA system and have some sort of response to this.

"Just thought you should know" I say and leave them to it.

The guy was still in a car with his friend, noshing down on his stolen chocolate when I left 10 minutes later.
(Tomble Underground, overground, Tombling free., Mon 18 Feb 2008, 4:30, Reply)

Furness Road, Manchester - Ballet of the Stolen Goods
Allegedly - we discovered after we moved in - one of the most burgled streets in England. Being students and owning approximately naff all between us this didn't bother us much.

Our fun crime was, as one night I was getting slowly more and more caned with my good mate Rob and his friend Jack Daniels, we heard a burglar alarm. Ooh, some excitement... so we looked out and could see naff all happening except the house opposites alarm light flashing merrily away to the wee-woo rythym. I'm surprised a spontaneous rave didn't break out.

But lo! In pre mobile phone surprisingly co-ordinated action for scallies, a battered fiesta screeched to a halt outside the house. From the houses' front door poured an army of dodgy mancs with armfuls of shabby electronics who piled in to said fiesta which then disappeared apace. There was a ballet like poetry to it all.

Of course, such sights go a long way toward explaining why next year, when we moved into a new house on the same road there was a nice hole in the wall where the boiler should have been venting because according to the landlord some feckers had been down the street and taken every boiler and he wasn't putting a new one in until the house was occupied.

Nice place. Only got mugged the once. Was probably (in the eyes of the law) responsible for more crime in my time there :)
(incrediblemonkeydoctor www.rantatsomeone.com - go on, have a rant, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 1:45, Reply)

Moo-m?
This is about my Mom and her (I almost spelled "his"...eh she kinda looks like a dude) doings. There are a quite a few.

My mom has been known to grow, sell, buy, and smoke weed. She smokes with minors and buys from them too. Oh how cool she looks.

She also likes to drink and drive, sometimes when I'm in the passenger seat, taking a swig when I'm looking the other way.

Another thing she likes to do is get drunk, get in the car (again with me in the passenger seat) speed to about 80mph on a 50 limit zone, then swerve about crazily in hopes to get into an accident and kill me.
(Grass, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 1:19, 3 replies)

Coming off a roundabout On to a duel carriageway
I was the first car out of the traffic lights (on the roundabout) on my way to work. Some way up ahead of me was a German registered car in the fast lane. For some reason he decided to slow down and dive into the lay-by across the other lane.

And turn around and drive in the opposite direction.

Towards me and all the cars behind me, the wrong way down the A303.
I dived into the other lane as I shat myself in a way you can when you're facing imminent doom.

To this day I have no idea what possessed the driver to do that as I have no idea what he/she looked like (too busy swerving to look through the window as they passed). But I always picture a maniacal moustached man screaming as he floors it towards 2 lanes of traffic.

Miraculously no one was hurt
(Monkeyofspong, Mon 18 Feb 2008, 0:57, Reply)

Witnessed Robbery
Middle of the night I wake up with such a dry throat as I was in need of liquid refreshment.
Popped down the stairs, into the kitchen to be met with a bloke going through all the cabinets and draws.
"What the **** do you think your doing" as I grabbed his clothes and lifted him to the other side of the kitchen.
He retaliated by trying to get the **** out of the kitchen through the kitchen door.
Trying not to let him out he starts yelling to let go at which point my girlf is by now downstairs also trying to grab him (she is naked also) as are two of his friends who join us at the door pulling him whilst simultaneously trying to punch me in the face.

I was a bit stuck as to what to do.
Should I try to retain them all, hold them down, call the police and wait.
or should I just let them go call the police and report the break-in.

Frankly I wasn't sure so I tried to pull the guy I had hold of, whilst my girlf tried to push him out the door, this wasn't working so I then tried to push him out the door (whilst simultaneously dodging flying fists from his partners in crime) unfortunately my girlf then was trying to pull him in.

After what seemed like an epic struggle (all of 50 seconds) they got out and off they went to a waiting car and sped off down the road.

Phoned police and recorded everything etc etc.

Strange thing is the idiot came in through the dog flap, walked past my wallet, car keys, house keys and a pile of notes and change right to the other end of the kitchen and started his search. They got nothing.
Next day a forensics guy turned up to get finger prints from the door (he got mine but nothing else as they had gloves), and mentioned to me that I wouldn't be asked as a witness as they caught the guys 4 streets over.
Turned out they were randomly going to houses and spent so long searching that after the first house found out about it and called the police the police caught them re-handed in a house a few streets over. Idiots.

So I was a witness, but never called, to my own house.

Next door neighbour saw the entire thing happened (he was in the TA as well) but didn't come out to help. Wuss.

Length? 3 inch cut down my left leg where I caught it on something during the struggle.
(Opanoid Look sweats dripping off them, Sun 17 Feb 2008, 23:51, Reply)

This is a crime...
because it gets stuck in my head so easily.
www.skammich.com/leekspin.html

keep clicking for more lovely things.
(fisherOfApples123 -=destroyer of toilets=-, Sun 17 Feb 2008, 22:32, 1 reply)

my uncle owns a farm
he says it's terrible, you lose half your stock to sheeplifters.


(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 17 Feb 2008, 20:53, 1 reply)