Sunday, 10 October 2010


It is 7:32 am. Sam knows this because it says so on his computer screen. At this time someone opens his studio door, pokes his head in and says “oh… is this Tom’s room?”. Reply: “No, who are you?”. He mumbles something about repairs and the front door being unlocked and goes away. Sam ponders the logic statement “Entity: (probably) Burglar –> Action: Hit with golf club”. But this straightforward approach is thwarted by the thought “What a racist I am! Just because he’s black!”.

So Sam thinks no more about this and goes to have breakfast. When he’s back, his laptop, wallet and phone have sublimated, as has his bike (borrowed, not even his), and another 3 laptops, 1 wallet, 1 iPod, check books and other easy-to-sell stuff from around the house. Sam concludes: “Gosh, I wish I was more racist!”.

That’s the story as Sam tells it anyway.

More details emerged later: The guy tried to get into other houses and failed so he finally forced one of our windows open with a plank he broke from the wooden table in our garden, came into Tom’s studio, trashed it and took everything he thought valuable and small, including his wallet which explains how he knew his name. He walked right past a £500 mike, which is both lucky and tells us he knows nothing about music or the modern hardware used for it (clue number two). After meeting Sam he probably hid somewhere else in the house until he left, then proceeded to plunder the rest at leisure.

I was the lucky one of the bunch, he took nothing of mine. Also, it might have helped that I don’t leave anything of value in my studio (much less my wallet) and always lock my bedroom. The one thing he could have taken from me is my Eton laptop, which must have had 10 previous owners, one of them in all likelihood Fred Flintstone. I so wish he had taken it, so I could get a new one.

So yes, interesting things can happen around here. It’s bad enough that it happened but perhaps the worst of it is, when you think about it, that we were burgled by the shittiest burglar in all of Slough, probably shortlisted for shittiest in Berkshire. He tries to get into houses at random, doesn’t even bring his own crowbar and, to add insult to injury, makes off on the bike he steals.

It is not the first time this happens, and I bet it won’t be the last. Slough is just too close. Maybe they’ll take my rubbish laptop next time, fingers crossed.


euge said...

Hey, where did JK Rowling go to school after all? All this sounds like Hogwarts Theme Park - burgling included! :D

MakurA said...

Juer macho, menuda historia para no dormir, la verdad!

Menos mal que en Navidades es Santa el que se pasa por ahí, porque si no, me da a mi que el pobre Baltasar no sale vivo de tu casa xDDD

PS. Joño, pasa algo con la fuente de las entradas? La has puesto talla super por algo en concreto? =S