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Burglary

07 March 2006

JD insists on having a huge metal lock around the steering wheel of the car, to deter people from stealing it. I forget to put that on sometimes but last night, I put it on again, after forgetting it for the past 3 days.

Clearly my brain has got space to remember only 1 safety measure as I promptly forgot to lock the car.

When I got to the car this morning, there was stuff all over the front seats, the glove box had been emptied, the back seats were down and stuff strewn around. It took me a second to realise someone had been going through our stuff.

Hey had clearly used our own torch to help themselves to a bit of light whilst looking for valuables.

On the front seat was the ripped envelope that contained two cheques, made out to me, so useless to anyone else. I found the cheques on the floor. I bet the thief was disappointed.

Sometimes I forget my wallet or phone in the car. But not this time. So no luck for them there. Dissapointed again I reckon.

As he must have been with the contents of the boot: a medical bag for the rugby team, two rugby balls and 6 empty water bottles. Needless to say they were all still there.

Nothing seemed to be missing, apart from the Bluetooth hands free headset, which I only bought last Friday!!!! It made me smile that they did not take the car charger for that and the mains charger is in my house. So unless they have the correct charger, the thing is useless to them.

And they left all the CDs on the front seat.

Why? Is my music taste so bad that nobody even wants to STEAL my CDs? What is wrong with Indigo Girls, Janis Ian, Emmy Lou Harris and a copied collection of English folk? Huh? Well?

I am very insulted by the fact that a thief did not bother to steal my CDs. Was he trying to leave a message: Your fucking car is useless and your music is rubbish too?

I am picturing it like this: Would-be thief walks around, looking for car to break in to. Sees car with big steering wheel lock which is unlocked. Excellent, a chance of some loot without having to break in to the car. In fact, he can sit down in the car, turn the light on, pretend the car is his. So he pushes the front seat back, takes the torch from the glove compartment and feels a warm glow of victory. Bring on the cash! And as he goes through the stuff, his anger grows. This car is useless. Ah! CDs. Instant cash. Janis Ian? Who the fuck is that? Can’t sell that on the market. Shit, a built-in stereo that won’t come out. Ah, an envelope. Some cash? Crap. Cheques made out to a person. Useless rubbish. Shit, crap. I’ll have this ruddy Bluetooth earpiece. Let’s try the boot. Waterbottles? Rugby balls? Geez…this car belongs to a dyke!! Gets up, walks away in disgust.


Strange. Someone broke into my car and I am not sure if I am angry about the break-in, pissed off about his judgement of my music taste, or smug about the fact that there was nothing for him to steal?

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