This one time, many years ago, when I was an inner city hipster, my partner Dan and I are out having a drink and a bash at pool at our local pub. The drinks and joie de vivre flow. Our pool shots are all dropping and none of the likely lads challenging could beat us. In the end we stop on our terms and let them have the table, after all we just wanted to play each other not these plonkers.
So, full of beer and victory we wander off home down the back streets of Richmond. Getting out my keys I open the front gate and see the door is open! Just as I’m thinking, who left the door open? a scrawny youth comes out of said door with some electrical equipment under his arms, closely followed by a young woman of unnaturally yellow hair, carrying some extra bits and bobs.
Face to face with our robbers caught in the act, instinct takes over. Dan yells “Put it down!” to the scrawny one, who does what he’s told. The yellowy one runs for the high front fence attempting to jump over it. I chase her pull her down and shove her up against it screaming “You’re not going anywhere!!” Or something equally as cop show.
When they realise the jig’s up the scrawny guy starts jibbering about the door being open, as if that’s a good reason to steal some stuff. Turns out they’d broken the bedroom door at the back of the house to get in. So liars as well as thieves.
Then Dan’s got the two of them now and I go inside to call the cops. Remember, this was before the time of mobile phones and when video players were something worth stealing. I scream when I see the mess inside. They’ve emptied all the drawers and cupboards all over the house looking for something more readily exchangeable. It actually looks worse than it is, but by now I’m feeling a bit jittery!
When I come back out Dan is lighting up a cigarette. Ever the gentleman he offers one to scrawny guy, who takes it. Strange things happen when the adrenaline is pumping.
There’s no waiting on the fuzz with this hot burg. Only moments later many pairs of boots come thundering down the street and suddenly the tiny front yard is full of coppers. One takes the cigarette from the scrawny guy’s mouth and butts it out on the ground. It’s all over for you Sunshine, says the Cockney voice inside my head.
Debriefing later, we wondered if our citizens arrest was possibly slightly foolish. I mean they could have had guns, or knives at the very least. Or more cronies inside looking for a fight. Ah, the confidence of youth…. and beer.
Amanda Gambas Author 