Bye Bye Shitface

Car crime hasn’t affected me much and if you’d asked me I would have said that I wouldn’t have been that concerned if someone nicked my car. After all it’s only an old Astra and I’m not exactly car proud.

But it does make a difference when it’s personal. A few weeks ago someone stole a car that belonged to a disabled resident who really relies on her motor to keep her independence. The police recovered it and everyone knows who stole it but hearsay is one thing and hard convictable evidence is another. A couple of nights ago I decanted a little 17 year old piece of shit, from under a bed in my place of work. I’m ever so nice when I do things like that – no point in riling them as they’re young, fit and nasty and I’m an old lady. So it’s – you may a well come out of there, I can see you, Shitface isn’t it? You know you shouldn’t be in here. You’re only getting [insert girlfriend’s name] into trouble. Now off you go. Don’t let me see you in here again or I’ll be calling the police. By this time we’re at the front door and it’s bye-bye Shitface. Because. you see, I know that Shitface was there the night that other car was stolen. Everyone knows, including the police but there's no proof and his accomplice has been charged with it.

It’s also bye-bye girlfriend the next day for persistent couldn’t give a fuckness about the rules. So that night she’s got nowhere to lay her head because instead of being nice she gives those people who are in a position to help her a mouthful of abuse instead.

Then it’s break into previous abode to do hundreds of pounds worth of damage then try to make the great escape in Nelly’s Astra. This attempt ends in abject failure, as his tools of trade are a teaspoon and coat hanger. Surprisingly, considering his stupidity, Shitface was careful not to leave fingerprints. The worst part is if the PSNI do catch the little tosser and send him to a YOC he’ll come out a lot better versed in how to commit the perfect crime.

The thing that surprised me was just how outraged I was by his clumsy attempts to steal my car. But I wasn’t surprised at my relief that he hadn’t managed to get to my new Loudon Wainwright and White Stripes CDs. Mind you he’d have been more than welcome to the Bessie Smith.