Be Excellent To Each Other

I just got woken up by the door-bell and, without looking at the clock, stumbled downstairs in my boxers to meet what I thought would be a delivery person, only to find said delivery person in a police uniform, asking for me by name (I haven't ordered anything).

Immediate thoughts "Oh shit, what have I done?" not the nothing-to-hide-nothing-to-fear version "Shit! What's happened to one of my family members?" or "For crying out loud, who's taken what, officer?".

She (was hot) told me they'd received a report from someone a few roads down about some young lads tampering with a bike, looking like they'd stolen it; said bike came back as being in my name. Bollocks. This woke me up a bit. I leapt outside and took a look to my right: my bike was still there (this'll be a wake-up call to garage it every night now)- hmm - as was my brother's old Bandit (that's in my name, too. I technically have 3 motorbikes now). Look to my left, and my old CG125 is missing. "Little shits." I mutter while laughing, relieved.

There's no damage to it, fortunately, but they've taken the ignition barrel off to hotwire it. Bloody amateurs — if they'd have just taken the headlight cover off, they could have unhooked a few bullet connectors and saved the bother. I doubt they'd have got it started, nonetheless, as it has been sitting on my drive for the best part of a year now, with no servicing from me, so it needs a damn good seeing to (is that man who was caught fucking a bicycle active here?) before it's going to run properly in the slightest.

So, anyway, I walked round to where they'd dumped the bike with the police lady, giving her some more details on the way, until I saw it neatly stood there on its side-stand (they've been slightly considerate, at least). We arranged for CSI (to the pun thread!) to come round, and they gave me some latex gloves so I could push it back without disturbing any prints they'd left.

If how much I don't give a shit about this bike has come across yet, the first thing I thought of while pushing it home was "Thank fuck they stole this bike — it's so bloody light!"

Anyway, to cut a ramble short, it's now 6am on a Sunday morning, and I'm knackered and grumpy but shouldn't go back to bed.

Share your thievery stories, if you will

Sods!

My pop had a Triumph Daytona 900 (he now has an RSV Mille). One day he returned home from a biking session with one of his mates, and left his helmet next to the bike on the drive. Some cunts had followed him home and nicked the helmet. Then, a couple of nights later they came back for the bike. They broke into the garage and had a go at it. Fortunately, the supersonic alarm went off and they scarpered. The garage is now enforced with 3 extra bolts, and the Mille is chained to an anchor cemented 3 feet into the ground. Apparently the police found the people who did it eventually with a shit load of bikey-stuff in their council house. My dad's helmet was gone.

Hehe, helmet.

Someone once stole the rear wheel of my pushike from outside a pub once. I was three miles from home, but, luckily, I was able to chuck it in the boot of someone's car. 90 quid for a new rear wheel as well..

I trust you took the time to put on some proper clothes first?

I imagined he was still wearing his wabs. Don't confirm or deny this, just let us imagine.

When I moved into my house I was looking to replace the old gas cooker and washing machine, and duly dumped these out the back of my house, slightly to the side (and slightly visible) to the main road. I then called the council who come and pick up old machines like this for free, and promptly wait.

The day before the council was due to come, I heard a series of scraping metallic noises outside, like the cooker was being moved. No problem, I thought, it's probably just the council come a day early, and when I checked later it had indeed gone but the washing machine was still there. Strange, I thought.

Then the next day the council did come and take the washing machine, but left me a note saying they couldn't find the cooker.

Turns out some fucking twats had obviously spied the cooker in my garden, and nicked it. The fact I didn't want it any more didn't make a difference, it was the knowledge that some theiving fucking little shit (or two) had walked into my garden and helped themselves to something which, for all they knew, was something I was going to use again.

That made me utterly fucking furious for a week.

Heh. I said to the policewoman "Okay, just let me go upstairs and not be almost naked. Back in a min."

I think I'll be investing in some extra security for the garage now, just to be on the safe side. Funny though: that bike has been outside for 10 months with nothing holding it down, my brother's bike has been outside for months, and a few times in the past I've managed to leave my keys in the ignition over night.

At least they didn't take both, and you ended up with a fine from the council for wasting their time, I guess.

I'm finding it difficult to get angry about this. Maybe it's because I've just found out Sundays have two 5 o' clocks. It's pretty annoying that instead of just getting it running and flogging it on, though, I have to replace the ignition barrel and steering lock. Especially seeing as I'm skint at the moment.

Damn it, man!

Yeah, I know, I should have invited her up.

I have a good story like this.

Back when I was living in a flat in Roath in Cardiff, we had a couple staying over. Not long after we went to bed we were awoken to the sound of breaking glass and my car alarm. I rushed outside and discovered some scroats had been trying to lever open the door to my car, and when the alarm went off, had thrown a nearby binbag through the window before legging it.

This is not the good bit.

Out from in the house comes someone I will call Jim to spare his blushes, one half of the couple staying with us. He is wearing only a towel. God knows why he felt he had to sleep naked in someone else's house but; there you go. I'm on the mobile ringing the police and he announces "I'll see if I can see them" and trots off into the depths of Roath at about half three in the morning... in just a towel. Now, for those who don't know it, you can see a satellite pic of Roath on Google Maps; it's a total rat warren. For those who don't know him, Jim's sense of direction is so bad, he once came out of Cardiff to drive to Merthyr Tydfil (due north west, compass fans) and became so badly lost he crossed the Severn Bridge. Twice.

So, off he sped. Time passed. The police came, and felt sorry for me. More time passed. I became concerned as it became increasingly clear Jim was lost in Roath in the small hours wearing a towel. The police left and I ended up stood outside the house wondering what to do. Even more time passed as I tried to come up with a plan. Eventually, around 5am, I spotted him turning a corner off in the distance -- still going away from the house, mind, and with an admirably confident stride. I dashed after him and brought him back to the house.

Apparantly, he crossed the path of the same milkman three times, and got some very funny looks. Sadly he couldn't ask for directions as he couldn't remember where I lived and had no money for the various payphones he passed...

What a hero. Still, bless his good intentions.

Did I tell you about the time I caught some kids nicking from a pick-n-mix?

Someone stole my steering wheel.

I never know what to do when I see an old person stealing stuff from supermarkets (which I have seen happen quite a few times). On the one hand I think it is theft and of course that is a crime, but then I also think what if that person genuinely can't afford to eat. I have, so far, just pretended not to notice, but I do feel genuinely uneasy.

Do all your stories end with you being "utterly fucking furious for a week"?

To be fair, all my stories end with "needless to say, I had the last laugh".

We need an 'insane with anger' dimlie. doesn't cut it

Mrs Chris was in Wlkinson's the other day buying some bits and bobs for TEH CHEAPZORS. Wilkinson's are pretty good near us in that they hire a lot of people with disabilities (you can probably guess where this is going).

The woman in front of Mrs Chris in the checkout queue handed over her cash for her purchase and got her change. She then angrily says to the disabled woman on the checkout "I gave you a 20. Give me the right change". Mrs Chris clearly saw her hand over a tenner.

So the poor young woman on the checkout apologises to the angry woman and gives her the change from a twenty pound note which the woman hasn't, in fact, handed over.

Mrs Chris was going to say something, as she was thoroughly disgusted at this fat pleb deliberately taking advantage of a poor simple girl, who will likely get into trouble for her till being a tenner down (I've worked in places like that and have been bollocked for taking forgeries and such. Not fun). However, being 9 months pregnant at the time she decided not to say "Sorry, I don't think you did give her a twenty" as she really didn't want to risk getting into a barney with the scum-woman. She of course felt wretched about not having said anything, but she's a sensitive soul.

If it had been me, of course, I would have been quite able and willing to say something, and I'd also have called the police and restrained the thieving bitch until they arrived. Some people are just utter, utter scum.

When I worked on the checkouts at Morrisons, I had a guy come in and pay for a packet of polos with a ten pound note. As I prepared to give him his change, he kept throwing requests at me ("could I have a fiver and at least three 50p pieces please?", followed by "no, wait, I need five 50ps and two pound coins").

I complied with them all to the best of my ability and gave him his change, and after I closed the till drawer he said "Hang on, I gave you a twenty".

Now, I was absolutely positive that he'd given me a tenner, but because of all his requests it'd sown the seed of doubt in my mind - had I been concentrating so much on his requests that I'd forgotten what note he gave me?

In the end, I was about to give him a twenty when the woman behind him said that he had given me a tenner. She then told him, in no uncertain terms, to "fuck off, you thieving bastard". I thanked her for her intervention and served her.

The same thing happened again a few days later - it was obvious to me after the first occurrence that the barrage of requests are to try and deliberately confuse you into giving him the wrong change. Bloody twunts.

That is a very common scam chinny, I believe it's called something obvious like 'short-changing'.

Have a look at this video from 3mins 30 onwards and it explains the basic gist. Fucking bastards.

As for what your lady witnessed Mr Chris, it reminds me that I really need to carry around a machete as a general rule.

bah! Gazchap asked first.


edit2: I used to get that short-changing thing done on me all the time. I never fell for it - I'd been warned about it. HOWEVER, I did on a few occasions forget what note someone gave me and gave them them change for £10 when they gave me a £20. Strangely this kind of thing only even happened right after a busy period. I think I'd lost the ability to be on auto-pilot once things had calmed down or something? (ps, in all cases I'd usually pressed the £20 button on the til, but I rarely read what it said anyway as I'd already worked all the change out when pouring the drinks)

No edit is too quick for me!

a) No
b) More than likely
c) I'm not sure. It was 5am and the uniform tends to exaggerate people's attractiveness. No boners were induced though; I was too peeved about my bike.



I went to the post office to deliver something via special delivery last week, and was taken aback by how much it cost, so didn't have the right change out. Cue me fumbling into my wallet when the cashier asked for £4.60, and me instantly forgetting and giving her £4.50 instead. She counted the change, said "Another 10p please", so I slid another £1 coin under the window. She didn't pay attention, took all my money, gave me my receipt and didn't seem quite so sure about why I was still standing there looking at her.

I felt like a scammer when I had to point out that'd I'd just given her £5.50 for a £4.60 purchase and that she owed me 90p. I'm not, though. I'm honest, me.

Holy edits, nynfooman! You're super-fast!

Also; that video has a good point. I often remembered money-colour rather than actual value. I can't imagine how hard being an American til operator must be. Australians have the best money though, nice and bright.

And plastic.

When I was in Canterbury, osome friends who lived in student valley had their gamecube nicked while they were in the house - someone just walked in the back door, through the kitchen, into the living room while two people were next door, and walked off with it and a few other bits in the room. Stories like this suddenly started doing the rounds, particularly around student valley and in my neighbourhood near the college. Probably some wag had been casing a few places by simply turning up at parties, but whatever. Fortunately, we had nothing stolen. I say 'fortunately' because while everyone was fully aware of these goings on, a housemate's rich kid girlfriend decided to leave our house empty and all the doors unlocked, the back one swinging open. Apparently it didn't matter, because her stuff at home was all insured.

At the time, the only people living in the house who weren't students were working for £4.26 an hour.

Words were exchanged.

Also, when I was a kid, the kids on my street were totally irresponsible with their stuff - they'd ride their bikes and when they'd had enough, just dump them in the street. I think I and my sister were the only kids on the block who made sure to leave them in the garage or back garden. The one time I lent my bike to a neighbour (and went in for dinner), he got bored and dumped it in the street round the corner. Naturally, it got stolen, although we got it back because one of the lads up the road saw some stranger carrying it, recognised it as mine and chased him until he dropped it and ran.

In conclusion, rich people, neighbours and children are crap. Lads up the road are not. End.

I've had my business cleaned out of stock about three times by burglears. They're always trying steal stuff whilst I'm open too. Those three times are in two different towns. Firstly Sheffield and second and third times in Doncaster where I currently reside.

What do you do when that happens? Are you insured? Christ, how do you recover from something like that?

There's something critically wrong here, but I'll be buggered if I know what.

Someone broke into my house whilst I was in once - two men. I was scared but shut myself in one of the bedrooms and phoned the police. They walked into my bedroom, one holding my handbag, and said hello and walked out, cool as you like. The police were there in about two minutes, but missed them by about thirty seconds. I was pretty shaken up, and rather upset for a long time afterwards. I used to have nightmares about the moment they walked into the bedroom and caught me there and what might have happened, but I think they saw the phone I was holding and so scarpered, but for a long time afterwards I couldn't help dwell on what might have happened and was a bit panicky.

That's really mean, walking in even though you're in there. Bloody stupid, too, there's no reason to do that. I mean, if you need the money, or just want it desperately, there's a limit to how pissed off I can get at someone stealing, but deliberately fucking with people like that is something else.

Thieving little cunts stole my new mountain bike on the 9th May (really must phone the insurance company!). I had a car stolen before, but the considerate kids that took it left it nearby when they had finished playing with it, so no harm done.
There was once an intruder in a house I was in, but by the time my brain had woken up enough and processed the information to tell me to 'get the fuck downstairs' my girlfriend* at the time was beating seven shades of shit out of him in the kitchen
Ooh, and a group of my mates (well, my mate's mates really, including me) returned back to his house after a night out on the beer to see someone running up the stairs. About five of them chased him up the stairs while three of us (myself included) shouted encouragement (we were a little tipsy). Anyway, the would-be wondertheif bailed out of an open window onto the street one story below and smashed his leg to bits. Awesome

*Tiny little thing, she was. Don't cross her, though

Did you ring him an ambulance, or just kick the snot out of him and tossed him in the lake?

I would have shut myself too.

The police came and got him an ambulance. We didn't kick him, we just stood and questioned at what point he thought he could just land an run away.

Some bugger stole my bike over the weekend. It was locked at London Bridge station behind the barriers, and some beggar undid the front wheel ( which was locked ) and cut or forced the other which was around the frame. I feel like going on a Death Wish-esque vengeance rampage, but instead I'l lprobably just phone my insurance company.

Harumph.

That is an excellent story.

One of my housemates in Cardiff had his car stolen at least three times. It had a hidden switch that isolated the fuel pump, so each time they only made it to the end of the road (from residual fuel in the system) before it conked out. One time he chased two guys and managed to get a hold of one of them, but there was a scuffle and in the end my mate (who has a hell of a temper on him) decided to let him go. Being interviewed by the police later, who shared his frustration in how few of these cases result in an arrest, he asked how far he could have gone without getting into trouble. The copper told him if it happened again he could use "all reasonable force" in a rather sly way. I'm fairly sure he was, in a roundabout way, given permission to beat seven bells out of any future robbers.

Another time he had a window smashed and some stuff nicked, CDs and whatnot, and they left DNA at the scene. They got the cuplrit from the DNA evidence and came around to our house with a massive box full of CDs found at the guy's flat; they told my housemate to just take back anything that was his... and my housemate swears blind the copper actually winked when he did it. So he took all the ones he'd lost, and about thirty more for his trouble and the cost of the window!

The Sly Winking Module counts towards 75% of the final mark at Police School.

A number of years ago, my dad and his mate caught a bloke nicking the stereo out of the mates car. As in they caught him when he halfway through the window and all that.

When the copper arrived, the thief was on the floor with two broken ribs and two black eyes.

"And how did that happen."
"He fell."
"Fair enough."

I remember being told a story ( and this was friend-of-a-friend via the internet, so is probably at least half made up ) about when this guy was in some undefined South American country. He caught a burglar, and after a bit of a scuffle restrained him until the police arrived. When the police got there, they apparently subtly hinted that they could go drive round the block, grab a coffee and when they got back the call out could change from "caught a burglar" to "killed a burglar in self defense". Paper work for them would be the same, but would mean they wouldn't have to bother with a trial or anything later on.

Thats the kind of legal system I'd sign up for. I wonder how many chavs would try to break into your house if they knew they could be legally killed in the act. hmmmm.

Plenty of States in the US where you are entitled to shot burglars. No idea what the relative burglary / murder rates are though - might be interesting to look. It's a fairly major argument in the whole gun control thing in the US, I think - people less likely to break in if they know they could get shot vs people more likely to break in and crack you on the noggin straightaway to prevent themselves getting shot.

I think statistically though, these guns kept for self-defense are hundreds of times more likely to end up shooting someone other than a burglar.

That would be an interesting statistic, actually - what percentage of people buying guns for self/home defence end up firing them for reasons other than self/home defence?

It's some huge number. I'm sure Michael Moore knows.

I don't have any of these statistics though, unfortunately. I got that little one from Penn & Teller's Bullshit pro-gun episode.

But yes, if anyone can find these, they'd be interesting to see.

I would hope it would be close to 100%. You can't possibly defend yourself with a weapon you don't know how to use and don't practice using regularly.

BETEO Vigilante Squad - ASSEMBLE!

I wonder how easy it would be to then go out and kill someone and bring the body back and stage it so it appeared they were trying to break in to your house so you were forced to kill them? I've probably just reeled off a CSI plot there...