It never ends...
Aside from the usual recreational drug-related / other petty crimes that everyone's seen, I've had a lot of luck - bad that it happened, good that I was never directly involved or affected - with various places I've lived. In brief:
- As a student I was in my second floor flat revising for an exam the next day when I heard a commotion. I went out of the door and was about to start shouting when my flatmate called me back in to point out that the building had been completely surrounded by armed police. An armed robber had taken refuge in the ground floor flat and subsequently taken the occupants hostage. The exam? Crime and Punishment.

- Much later I lived on the Green Lanes in London, a very predominantly Turkish area. This is a huge road and the particular bit where we were was the Kurdish section - and could be a bit of a flash point. One night we're in the flat waiting for our dinner party guests and idly noticed that the Turkish mens club right opposite seemed to be having a party on. A few minutes later - commotion - we look out of the window to see a FULL SCALE RIOT in progress complete with about 100 geezers in masks and armed to the teeth. Turns out some general from the Tukish - Kurdish wars was in the club when someone from the other side burst in and tried to shoot him - some other guy ended up dead and the riot happened to allow the assassin to escape. We had a late dinner party as everyone had to get through the police cordon, then had a mobile nick parked outside the house for weeks, not that they ever looked at us as we were the only people in the vicinity to be not even slightly Turkish looking.

- In my current flat, I went for a pee (the bathroom is at the back) one night. Spotted someone standing in the darkness. Wondered why there seemed to be all these lights rigged up (pointing at the house meaning the guy down there was even more difficult to see). Wondered what the furious movements he was doing around the crotch area were all about. Suddenly realised he was furiously wanking; wished I had an air rifle to hand; called the police. A few weeks later my missus came screaming out of the bathroom first thing in the morning saying someone was pointing a video camera into the window - this time the police were a lot faster and we haven't had any trouble since.

- Closest one: we came back from an evening of beer and turned onto our street just in time to spot someone getting into our car. I went over and had him shitting himself (fortunately not literally) by knocking on the window and loudly insisting he get the fuck out of my car and fuck off pronto. I wasn't at all bothered about calling the police - just wanted him the fuck out of there - but when my missus realised what was happening she went ballistic and started screaming at him and calling them. when he ran for it I got out of the way when suddenly she started making after him (still on the phone to the old bill) and chased him down into the nearby council estate. Fortunately I followed because for a moment the guy got his balls back and turned on my missus; she realised the error of her ways and I managed to get in between them just before he caught her. Fortunately for him he thought better of tackling me and we ended up in the back of the police car looking for the bastard. We never found him but I reckon this is for the best, and my missus has now learnt her lesson.

All the above is 100& true and unembellished!

Length - he's lucky he never found out, I'd have clubbed him unconscious with it.
(rampants, Tue 19 Feb 2008, 15:34, Reply)