Gotcha!

Apropos bugger all to do with bicycles or bonsai, I have to report that I got a call from the Polis this evening. No, they haven’t just caught up with that window I broke in 1968 – this was as a result of a break-in we had in early June. In fact, The Dibble had been effective at their job and got the wee gobshite (hereafter referred to as the WG) who did the deed and this was them ringing to tell us.

There were several factors to the story which, when I look back, are either quite alarming or just plain bloody hilarious. Factor 1: the WG broke in at 7am knowing full well there was likely to be someone home. I heard the noise of something which on reflection must have been the back door being kicked in but thought it was the dog roaming around. Factor 2: I distinctly saw a shadow reflected in our bedroom wardrobe mirror doors but again thought it was the dog. Turns out it was the WG leaning into the room to nick a wallet and a mobile phone – us in bed not but a yard away. Factor 3: the same dog that I thought was making the noise must have escorted the WG all through the house, no doubt pointing out items of possible interest ( should never have given him that antiques guide for his birthday). Some feckin’ guard dog is our Buddy! Actually, had the WG shut him in a room, Buddy would have barked his head off. Sod’s Law!

But Factor 4 is the best twist of all: I struggled out from beneath the dooffie at about 7.10 and staggered towards the loo. In the scud. Completely! Only to see a figure in the kitchen trying to get our (unknown to him) quirkily faulty back door open. After the initial surprise, I hurtled across the kitchen questioning his parentage very loudly as I went, at which point sheer terror took him up to the half landing and head first out the window on to our bins. God, I so hope that hurt him or that at the very least there was something particularly unpleasant and smelly therein!

So, the Rozzers now have a traumatised tea-leaf in custody awaiting a trip to His- or Heronour. I was pleased when they told me he claimed he didn’t notice I had no clothes on.

I was less pleased when they told me he said he just thought I was wearing something that needed a damn good iron!

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s