So you’re walking along, all cazule like, say, Fleet Street, at about midnight. You’re in a ‘lockdown’ so shouldn’t really be out, but you’re so pissed/stoned/insane/unbalanced that you’re barely aware of any of that shit. And suddenly, you get the urge to acquire a new pair of RayBans. Even though its the dark of night. And there, in front of your very, photophobic eyes, is a whole bunch of them! As if delivered by the angels! Wow. Only problem is, those pesky angels seem to have left them behind a quarter of an inch of reinforced, laminated plate glass. But you can’t be deterred. A ‘message’ is a ‘message’, innit?

But just before acquisition, there’s a few considerations that might be worthy of consideration. Firstly, that there is a lockdown and the City is a ghost-town. Secondly, even though ghostly, it still has its own police force. The one with the highest ratio of coppers/square inch than anywhere else in the country. And thirdly, that said RayBans are in a locked cabinet standing approximately 2 metres high. Made of steel and ‘glass’. Heavy.

How the hole was made I have no idea. Guessing something pretty heavy. Perhaps like his mate, maybe. Hold him sideways and use his head as a battering ram. I don’t know. But I can testify in a court of law that a hole was somehow made. And then, this very heavy and high display cabinet was somehow manhandled through it. Leaving a wake of fucking destruction and chaos behind as Johnny Dipstick and his mate wrestled a 2 metre cabinet through a four foot hole.

But they did it. Successfully. And dragged/carted/shlepped/wrestled this unwieldy thing down a side street to a quiet ally. Where they smashed and kicked and bashed and whatevered until they could open it and reach the treasures within. But sadly they were disturbed in their quest. Probably as they were trying on the styles to see whether the Clubmaster looked better than the Aviator, and discussing the advantages of polarised lenses over normal ones.

Our hapless criminals were ‘nabbed’. By loads of police who spend their evening driving round my City looking for… for tosser imbeciles nicking RayBans. Of which there aren’t currently very many as anyone out on any street currently invites suspicion.

Mel insisted on coming with me. We arrived about 1.15 after the police phoned, and left about 4 once the window was boarded and all statements made and signed and done. The police were, it must be said, brilliant. Which they should be, as befitted my newfound ‘victim’ status. And I do ‘traumatised’ better than anyone. I spend most of life like that. Almost nice to do so in earnest.

But spare a thought for those poor, inept, stupid robbers, for a moment. Society is to blame. Coronavirus lockdown temporary insanity. Socio-economic considerations. They never had a chance in life.

I hope they bring back hanging. Motherfuckers.

Happy, tired… Day

A xxxx