I live in front of a park that is frequently infested by chav types
and have found various things before, burnt out cars and the like. One find that made me almost happy that I live in such a place was that of a lovely bag of pot. I, erm, handed it in to the police. Yes.
( McBadger COW, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 22:08, Reply)

Walking home from the park
I found what looked like a deflated football. As I trod on it, it opened it's mouth. Realising footballs don't have mouths I stoop in for a closer look.

I was treading on the head of a dead badger. Poor bugger.
(GONEism, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 22:00, 2 replies)

Lady Lovelock
I set the scene: Christmas 1999, my friends and I decide to exchange the most foul gifts imaginable. As anal beads and plastic pussies were gleefully freed of their Santa wrapping and bows, I received the pièce de résistance, 'Lady Lovelock's Forced Womanhood'. Men are transformed into she-male slaves, complete with graphic drawings of the winkie shrinking machines.

So when my best friend moved house, it made sense to hide it in one of her rolled-up rugs. Only it wasn't her rug, it belonged to her housemate. Her grandmother 'found' the magazine.

This set the wheels in motion.

The magazine found its way into people's office drawers; into their shopping trollies; it went on honeymoons, on holidays, to births and cruises. It followed us through the years as we got older and wiser - the recipient was always unsuspecting, chosen at random and generally very angry. And it always found its way back to me.

So when I moved to the UK, I opened my suitcase to find it. I found it halfway across the world.

Of course, when I first came back to the US, I slipped it in a friend's laptop case while we were in the pub. That was the last I heard of it for years.

Until last March, when my mum came to visit me. She opened her suitcase...
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 21:59, 2 replies)

Today, I found
that I can twist pretty much any QOTW into a 'how I found Pink Goddess' story. Only clicks can stop me!
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 21:53, 1 reply)

Not me - but
A friend once found a dead dog - with a lead attached to it - on a pavement.

Presumably the dog had expired mid-perambulation and it's owner had thought better of towing it's rotting corpse home.

My late grandfather once found a fiver amongst some nettles and, for as long as he was able to strut about upon this world thereafter, searched amongst nettle beds for misplaced currency. He even affected a walking stick, the better to bash the nettles aside.

My only find is that I will be 40 on Sunday and I'm no less contented than I was 20 years ago - too much Camus, possibly.
( The Disappointed Caravanner of the year, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 21:42, Reply)

Oooh, previously cherished laptops
I've changed jobs a couple of times in the last couple of years. Most times, I've had a pre-loved laptop.

The first time, all was well. Windows 98, which was relatively current at the time, nice slim laptop, all good. What's this at the bottom of the laptop bag? Why, a CDROM drive. How cool. I plugged it in, waited for Windows to notice it, and... ah, there's a disk in it. I opened the filesystem up and had a "Pass the brain bleach!" moment. Porn like I had not seen the like of before. Porn like "how do you get stockings on the chicken?". Worse, porn along the lines of "I was putting the doggy dish on the floor when I slipped, and then look what happened!" I mean, ewwwwwwwww! Oh, and ewwwwwww!

Next time, I was much luckier. I found quite a lot of downloaded telly stuff that I'd have happily downloaded myself if I was some kind of pirate or something. And no porn at all. W00t!
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 21:37, Reply)

Bulgarian vegetables
When I was a student, I spent a year in a great place that consisted of three three-storey Victorian terrace houses joined together. There were 15 of us in total.

In the basement there was a room with a padlock on the door which none of the others had ever been into so, naturally, I broke into it one night when I was bored.

Inside amongst the discarded furniture, I found a crappy old guitar amp which still worked, a strip of disco lights and two crates of tinned vegetables from Bulgaria (think ratatouille with a bit of grit in it).

(my own) Serving suggestion:
Fry one onion
Add spoon of curry powder
Add tin of Bulgarian vegetables
Serve with rice

Kept me fed for a couple of months.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 21:34, 2 replies)

Amateur hardcore porn
Back in my uni days, before digital this and cyber that, me and 2 mates were walking home from lectures one day (or from the pub, whichever sounds more feasible). Halfway home, along a relatively busy road, we walked past an envelope on the pavement. Something caught my eye and I turned around to pick up the envelope. To our shock, joy and amusement it contained about 20 photos, all of a rather portly gent giving his even more portly missus a good seeing to. A few shots also involved a game of hide the wine bottle!

Now these shots had obviously been developed at home, and on closer examination we discovered they had been taken by a third party- shocking stuff! Bear in mind that this was long before the internet- porn in those days consisted of an old copy of Razzle or a third hand copied VHS off one of your mates' big brother.

Anyway, we took these photos home and giggled about them for a long time. They fouund their way into our toilet where all our guests also had a giggle (or possibly vomited, depending upon their constitution) for several months. One day the house was tidied in anticipation of a visit from someone's parents, so we decided it might be a jolly jape to hand the photos into the local police station... so off we toddled. The sergeant behind the counter took our photos, examined them and placed them in a box behind the desk with a completely straight face, which must have been hard when faced with 5 giggling teenage students.

The best part is he handed us a 'found property' slip, containing the immortal words written in his own fair hand - 'found- selection of pornographic photographs'. I still have that piece of paper to this day and it is one of my most prized possesions. After my car. And my house. Alright, it's in a box in the attic. but it makes me giggle and wish I was 18 again. Pre-internet porn- what an age it was.
(chesterdrawers, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 21:33, Reply)

Dear reader,
You know how you sometimes spend days and weeks and months looking for something, and it eventually turns up? Or you stop looking and it's ultimately found? I was convinced I'd find it, but unfortunately it was a complete waste of time and effort.

Yours,

Hans Blix
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 21:27, 2 replies)

My wifes wedding ring.
Having been told, whilst on Holiday in Pembroke, not to loose the ring whilst Mrs Mazurka went for a swim, sadly, I failed.

An hour of 8 people scrabbling around sieving sand with bare hands did not find it. In desperation I went to the tourist information place and asked where the nearest metal detector shop was (Swansea). I was about to leave dejected and in the knowledge that I would never be allowed to forget my momentary lapse in competence when the lad in the shop remembered a mate of his might have one. 1/4 later and a stop for new batteries and I was in business.

It was easy to tell where we had looked before but it was not easy to know what settings the metal detector needed. It proved very good at finding the occasional rust nails but not so good with rings. Just at the point when I was about to give up, I gave the knob a twiddle one last time, waved the detector about and lo, the headphones beeped the ring was found.

for what it it is worth Whitesands Bay (Porth Mawr) is an incredibly clean beach.
( mazurka wants two's up on your mum., Thu 6 Nov 2008, 21:25, 4 replies)

Walks for free or even less
Was out for a walk with the missus at a rather nice country park one cold winter day and what should I find just off the beaten path...£120, paid nicely for the hotel at the wedding that weekend we had to go to.

Also found another £60 which went on lots of beer.

Probably lost about the same amount over the years though.

Find a fair bit of stuff lying around at uni in the computer rooms, mainly memory sticks and ipods, before leaving them with the technician we often have a nose to see if there is anything interesting.

About the worst was a whole load of fat bloke gay porn including avi on a stick that belonged to some girl who will remain namless as I can't remember the name and would rather forget the images.
(bluehamster, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 21:25, 1 reply)

once upon a time
when I was about 15/16 and living in Sheffield, we'd used to hung around town on the weekends and indulging in drinking pikey cider and getting stoned as most teenagers did.
Anyway there used to be a derelict building behind Cole brothers(AKA John lewis nowadays) which we used to skin up in, so we went to skin up a J, and we noticed a sports bag hidden within the debris, we rooted it out to find a playstation 1, along with around 4 control pads, a multitap, and shitloads of games.
We took it down to the cash converters, but they wouldnt offer us the cash for it, considering we we're underage, but they would offer an exchange, we think fair enough, whatever its worth we'll split the trade value between us..
We ended up trading it for several PS2 games in the end, one lad in our group decided to burn his...

never quite understood his mentallity...
(Lord Chode, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 21:08, Reply)

A diamond
A few years ago when I was a little kid, I found a small diamond on the ground. It was obviously a fake just used to make you look pretty. A few weeks later, there was a announcement at school about this teacher who lost the diamond to her ring and would give out a $150 reward for the person that finds it. A few weeks later I realize that out of all the odds in the world, I found it. I bring it into school, give it to her, and the old bitch gives me a fucking pack of skittles. Next time I found something and can get a reward for it, the last thing I'll do is turn it in.
(NERDYLURKER is attempting to divide by zero, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 21:04, 2 replies)

The Car Game
This is one of those games that seems a good idea when drunk but makes you feel dumb in the morning. You go round and check to see if cars are open (at night) and if they are you take something. But only small things that wont be noticed. Over the game we have found:
- An ostrich egg
- About 10 pairs of sunglasses
- Some sort of medal
- 10 lottery tickets (all losses)
- £2.60
- Carton of Russian marlboro
- A bottle of chinese vodka

One time one of the owners found my friend in his car and smashed his face up
(Joe Guevara is well known for stealing your biscuits, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 20:38, 23 replies)

I found, like, money and shit
Working in teams of 3 per floor in a local hotel, we would each be expected to strip, change and clean anything up to 30 rooms in 5 hours. Now what with this being rather a cheap hotel near the port, you would often open up rooms on a Sunday morning to the unmistakeable smell of alcohol, vomit or both. The trick to easing this olfactory assault would be to have one person run ahead and open up all the rooms to give them an airing.

Now I learnt early on that this was a good way to nab the tips left by customers before the others got there, and so I would always volunteer to do it. You'd usually find a couple of quid a day in the summer - it paid for a sausage roll and a can of coke at least.

So one Sunday morning I'm going down the corridor opening up the rooms and I get to one room and stop dead. On the table was 50, I shit you not, 50 quid in change. Now as you can imagine, 50 quid in change is a vast amount of money, physically speaking. There is no way anyone could have left the room and left it there by accident - it must have been a tip. I felt a bit guilty about taking it all (that and I could only get so much in my pockets without it looking obvious), so I took £29 of it, stuffed it in my bag and split the rest of it (or all of it according to the others) £7 each. Incidentally if you think ill of me for this, I was at uni and surviving on a toilet cleaner's wage. That and I worked with cunts.

So I go back to rejoin my colleagues and we all go about our work feeling much happier for our newfound wealth. Then we get to the room I found the money in. Upon cleaning it, we also found the following:

- 8 condoms in the bin, 3 of them shitty.
- Hardcore gay porn mag under the left hand pillow.
- Straight hardcore porn mag under the right hand pillow.
- Piss all over the bathroom floor.
- Shit stains on the bed.
- A perfectly circular pool of chunky vomit in the bath.
- And to cap it all off, and how this was possible I have no idea, a whole shit UNDER the bed.

In retrospect, they should have tipped more.
(GONEism, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 20:35, 6 replies)

Ouch.
As a kind of compulsive habit/ insight into the minds of my fellow man, I pick up pieces of paper in the street with people's hand writing on it.

My most prized find was a couple of years ago in Leeds city centre, a folded note stating:

Gary, I'm sorry.

I'm pregnant.

Luv you 4ever, Becks.
(wide walking will, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 20:29, 7 replies)

Money!
Moved into an old house with a raggedy old couch in it once. "Lets take it apart!" we said.
We found 20 Euro in loose change that had fallen down it. And some old Irish money for good measure too.

I also once found a twenty euro note on the ground on St. Patrick's Day.
And I found a fiver on the street the other day. Woo.
(cH3$h7846J#7, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 20:22, Reply)

My dad found a shell (not the crab type but the exploding type)
in a tree that he was cutting down with a chainsaw... brrr clink clink clink - wtf? - chop chop chop - o0 shiney (really rusty)
it had obviously either been dropped at the base of the tree or had hit the tree and stuck in it whilst the tree had grown around it
makes a great paper weight (about 10-12 inches long, can't be bothered to walk down stairs to measure it - don't worry all the explosives have sadly gone)
( SkUG >_O i got a couple of stitches in my eyeball... ow, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 20:20, Reply)

My first flat
When I moved in I found:

8 trophies (boxing and football).

A little wooden box full of rizla and baggies, no weed though.

A box on top of the kitchen cabinet full of corks and bottle caps.

HSBC uniform.

A pink tutu wtf?

And a Chelsea headhunters badge.

And the previous tennants had left mysteriously 3 years before.
($wift, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 20:20, Reply)

We always find quite a bit of weird stuff at work.
The most memorable though, was outside one summer. Tucked in a corner next to one of the benches, we waitresses found a pair of neatly placed green wellies, next to a...soiled... black thong.
I can only assume someone came for some midnight sexy time in the forest, and managed to forget something. Needless to say, it was moved with a dustpan and brush straight into the outside bin.

Also, the ones I can remember:
A torn up, scribbled on birthday card left on a tray. Evidently, someone didn't want "Lots of love from John and Isabelle"
A folded up piece of paper used to steady a wobbling table with poetry about fog and trees in between the lyrics to "Fairytale of New York" scrawled all over it.

And my personal favourite was a business card we found sticking out from behind a photoframe on the wall. The white back of it was on show, and "Hello, How are you?" had been written on it in big letters. I still have that in the box of random crap under the counter, as I like to think that the person who wrote it was going to come back one day, expecting a reply.
Silly, I know.
(Applebite Uh! A cow!, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 20:09, Reply)

A technical find.
When wireless was first taking off, you'd be suprised at the amount of people whom didnt lock their access points.

Anyway I had quite a nice set up in my car (still do actually) with a wifi aerial on the roof and an in car system.
I went to see my friend in Scotland and we went for a drive.
I decided to demonstrate to him how I can find Internet by netstumbling around the neighbourhood, and logging onto someone elses unprotected wifi.

And of course, it didnt take long to find one. I also had an IP scanner that would pluck out if any PCs are connected. So showed him that too. And sure enough there was a PC... oh and look at this.. open shares.

Yup the guy had his entire C: drive shared to the world. Not only that he had a folder in there which had 5 gigs worth of animal porn. I kid you not. the dirty fucker was into girls fucking dogs and horses. There was tonnes of pictures and videos of his filthy habbit.

As any practice of sex with animals cannot be described as consentual. I of course took offense to it, and promptly renamed his access points SSID to Doglover. Locked it, deleted all his filth, and put a note on his desktop saying MI5 had taken it.

Ive retired from my wireless wardriving days. Though I found an access point called "Dont try to hack this!" That was locked. Sadly only with 128bit WEP. So I renamed that one to "I Hacked it!"

Beware of random cars that might park up near your house thats all I can say :)
(Miggyman, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 20:03, 10 replies)

Halloween last year
Halloween last year.....

Every halloween me and my friends tend to make the effort to dress up. The girls generally dress like sluts and wear less make up than usual, and the boys tend to use the occasion as an excuse to wear black nail varnish (that might just be me).

So, last year, I decide what I’m wearing, and one of my friends decides what he’s wearing. The getting ready process is deemed to be a two man job, applying lipstick, make up, props etc etc, so we decide, let’s get ready at my place and get really drunk in the process. Ok, he says, and informs me that his girlfriend, who is going as Wednesday from the Adams family will pop round to pick something up from him. Ok I say, and we get the beer, smokes and tunes going.

Little be known to me, that the item my friends girlfriend was picking up was a doll. Apparently, Wednesday carries around a doll with her at all times.

Let’s fast forward two days as from the moment I got dressed, drunk and left that night, we kind of ended up on a three day bender, and the crescendo being, me getting lucky with an older woman. We get back to mine, and bearing in mind it had been two nights since I sported the halloween costume.

We start kissing, and she’s getting horny so we decide to take into the bed room, I aint slept in there for nearly four days now so the bed is beautifully made. Were really into it now and we start getting undressed, and generally more excited. I still can’t remember how it happened, because I was monumentally drunk but all of a sudden, this fucking barbie doll has appeared right between us. I was fucking horrified, how can a startled 24 year old lad, explain toa 38 year old woman how a fucking barbie doll has got into his bed?

My mate, the cunt thought it would be funny to put his girlfriends barbie doll in my bed as she had found some better doll. In fairness to him, he apologised later, and he is still known in the group as a pussy blocker.

To be fair, I thought this girl would see the funny side, but she just looked at me like I was a paedophile and called me a sick bastard.
(Sir_Digby_Chicken_Caeser [email protected], Thu 6 Nov 2008, 20:03, 2 replies)

The stick of power. And a whole new world.
1. The Stick of power.

Wending my way home from the pub I chanced upon a pickaxe handle lying in the road. Since I was having trouble with the office photocopier - it hated me, bastard - I thought I'd found the perfect photocopier-menacing implement.
18 Years later and I still have it. I've used it as a lever, a hammer, a measuring stick and as a substitute for a Flying V when the Priest albums are on and the urge to rock out is strong. It also persuaded an aggrieved ex-flatmate to stop trying to kick my door down.

2. A comic

Nothing special: - An issue of the Fantastic Four lying on the grass on my way home from the YTS. I'd grown up with 2000AD obviously but hadn't bothered with Marvel stuff so this was something new.
Anyway, picked it up, took it home and read it then wondered "What happens next". Fatal. That's where I discovered my liking for comics; which eventually led me into manga and anime and Buffy and general SF geekery.
I like to think my future self came back in time specifically to drop it off and stop me growing up to be a train-spotter.

Off topic: My block of flats has three floors. So how come the washroom block has four sets of windows. What's up there? I'm hoping for saleable antiques but I'd settle for porn.
(Big D, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 20:03, 2 replies)

A purse
Me and a group of friends were walking through wakefield on our dinner break,which constitutes 2 cigarettes n a sit down in the city centre, when out of my eye i spot a purse under the bench opposite to us, I casually strolled over and brough it back to our bench apon opening it i found 60 quid in cash and cards etc. (being a poor student 60 quid was like 2 weeks living costs). As i contemplated what to do with it all my friends were chanting "keep it keep it", the thought had crossed my mind as iv lost shit loads of stuff over the years and never got back, but being a good citizen i took the wallet to the local information centre, gave my name address etc, and never thought about it again. Untill 2 weeks later i got a letter with a hand sewn insignia on the top, it was from the woman whos purse id handed in, she said that she was a poor student with 2 children trying to better her self and the wallet had invaluable pictures and cards in it, enclosed in the back was a cheque for ten pounds. That perhaps was one of the best feelings iv had and still sticks with me now a few years later, iv still got the card and (un cashed) cheque in a draw somewhere. Keeps my faith in society alive.

Roz
(R0z, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 19:46, 4 replies)

Found...
I've found a lot of things in my life, but recently, I found something most important. I found myself.


This year is my first year at uni. Having a girl back home, I was not exactly social, preferring to think that I was honoring her by secluding myself. The catch was, my schedule was so busy that I had no time to spare to call her, and she resented it. She became more and more angry, not at all like the girl I knew. When I would return for my visits, she would seem ok, but invariably we'd end up arguing.

I knew what I had to do.

But knowing and doing are two different things. Having the same girlfriend for 5 years tends to breed a certain involuntary dependency on said person. I waffled, and agonized over the inevitable decision I would have to make for two weeks. During this time, the changes in our relationship were apparent to everyone. Not knowing how to bring up the subject, I quietly pretended like everything was ok.

Fate, it seems, knew what it was doing. When she and I finally had the chance to be alone, she brought up our relationship, and that her parents felt it would be best if we “took a break” a while. I saw this as my chance, and I told her all of what I was thinking. I have never had strong ties to my hometown, as I've always been a bit cold towards my family thanks to the blatant favoritism they show to my sibling. This girl was my one tie to my home. Sitting there, words began to tumble out, less eloquently and coherently than I would have liked, but they were out.

Silence, followed by her tears tore my heart out. I felt like I could die. I told her I loved her, told her I thought we needed space, and left the door open for the future. But I felt like a part of me had died.

I climbed out of her car, and left. I loved her, I was hurt, but I intended to fix our relationship if I could. My head was full of grandiose ideas of chivalry, and love, and life. And then I realized what I had done. My “security blanket” was gone, and I was alone.

At first, it seemed like hell. I was depressed, and hurt. I felt horrible for hurting her, and I realized that I didn't want to end it like that.

I tried to make amends, I tried to apologize, and I'm not even sure for what I was apologizing. No matter what I did, though, it was thrown in my face. I was hurt, and confused; this was the girl I thought I loved. She has had a hard life, with various men in her life abusing her, so I tried to explain everything she did away, but it still hasn't faded. We agreed at the time of the split to try and get back together over Christmas break, but now I hesitate. I'm not sure if she'll forgive me. Even if she does, I know things will never be the same between us.

After the shock and pain had subsided, I looked at my time, and my life differently. I was alone, but I was happy. Happy that I had no one to answer to, happy that I could spend my time how I chose. She was not a bloodsucker or control freak by any means, but it's amazing how different my life became after all the drama faded away. I can make my own decisions now about how I spend my time without feeling like I was neglecting her.

I can pursue the things that interest me; I can take jobs and internships that pay well. I can use this time to be a little selfish and enjoy my life. I can be free.

I lost something the day of the breakup, but I found something too. I found myself.




*pop*
(DarkSol, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 19:43, 5 replies)

Found a van...
...yep, there is a fine line between stealing and finding.

I still maintain that we "found" this van.

A few years ago the price of scrap metal was virtually nothing - it was all in the news etc... but the price of those sorts of things goes up and down like a yo-yo.

In the late 80's/early 90's, the price was also at a low point.

The knock on effect of a tory council and the low price of scrap meant that on every street corner round our way, there was a dumped car.

The council, rather than move the car, which would have cost money, simply put a sticker on the side, saying, "Move this car within 7 days or we will, and then it will cost you." (may have not been the exact words used.)

Of course, being the enterprising young teenagers that we were, we used to wait the 7 days, then toe the car up to the scrap yard where the bloke would sometimes be in a generous mood and give us 10 quid for our trouble.

Well, we used to do this quite a lot. Sometimes, the owner of the car would thank us for doing him a free service (honestly).

One fine Saturday afternoon, we found a long wheel base Transit van. We figured that the scrap-man would at least give us 20 for this beast.

We intended to toe it up to him, take 20 quid, then go and score, as teenagers a prone to doing.

Over the years, my dad has had thousands of cars. Honestly, thousands - he likes cars. All cars.

A knock on effect of this was that he ended up with a large bunch of keys from cars that were scrapped or he simply forgot to pass the spare on when the car was sold.

We went and borrowed this bunch of keys and opened the Tranny up - you could almost look at the locks on old Fords a bit funny and they would open in those days.

We, of course, being inexperienced teenagers tried to start the car - I think the second key turned the ignition barrel. However, it was a diesel van, and we had no idea that you had to wait for the little light to come on to say the plugs were warm enough, and as such we couldn't get the bloody thing started.

Que, "Mozzer" (who, to this day is still a complete psycho while the rest of us managed to grow up a bit) having the bright idea of towing the van to the scrappy with his van (an old Telecom Commer van).

Off he goes to get his van - remember, he's not got a licence or insurance - not even a provisional (which happened to come to his aid a little later in this story).

He comes back, ties a rope on and we're more-or-less on our way.

I think there was about 5 or 6 of us at the time, and most of us jumped into the Commer van, leaving a chap we used to call "Marshder" to steer the van being towed.

We can only have got about 300 yards down the road, when a friend of mine (Dukey we shall call him, as that's close enough) and I looked out the back window to see dozens of coppers everywhere.

I shouted "Shit. Coppers. Everywhere."

"Nah, P*ss off." says Mozzer who was the one driving.

He obviously thought I was trying to wind him up.

"no, he's right" affirms Dukey.

In a matter of what seemed like seconds, we were litterely covered in the men in blue.

Dukey and I ran, hearing in the background, "No, it's ok lads, don't run, we can talk our way out of this one."

That was Marshder.

He was the first one trust up like a turkey on Christmas day and shoved into the back of the Black Mariah.

A few hours later, we met up with a couple of others who were with us who had scarpered in a different direction (oddly, ending up in my dads garage with the thought that there was so little connection that no-one would look for them there.)

When the police actually did manage to reach the vans, which were still attached by rope, there was only one person left, and he'd already been arrested.

One person. Two vans.

Even this lot could work out that there had to be more people than just one involved.

Mozzer, the one who was in the van doing the pulling, had run to Dukeys house and asked his sister if he could use the phone.

This was a family who were not exactly, how shall I say, law abiding.

He phoned the police and reported HIS van stolen.

In the meantime, Dukey and I had met up with a chap (who later was to go down for 4 years in a foreign prison, he's mentioned in another QoTW from this week) and he introduced us to a chap called Jolly Roger (not quite, but again, close enough for identification). Jolly's house was an old smugglers house from the 14 century and as such had tunnels and false panels in the wall etc...

We thought this was the ideal place to hide.

It turns out that it was.

The entire village was crawling with police all night - we, at the time, thought that it was a bit excessive for pinching a van that was destined for the crusher anyway, but still we hid.

Now, Mozzer had walked back down the road at this point and there was a LOT of police officers taking a close look around his van.

In the back of his van (which was also his home) was a three-piece-suite, a coffee table...and hand painted decoration.

The decoration consisted of things like "ACAB" (all coppers are bastards) sprayed on one wall and "Coke is it" across the other.

Not really what you'd like our friends in breast hats to see.

Anyway, he walks past his van (which is now reported stolen) and says, "Oi! So you're the bastards that have taken my van then?"

"Is this your van, Sir" asks, I kid you not, PC Thunder (honestly, that was his name - it was on the report and everything).

"Yes, how come you lot have got it?" replied Mozzer.

There was no answer. He was simply ladened up in much the same way as the first, as if he were about to be eaten on Jesus' birthday and carted off to the nick.

It turned out that that particular van (complete with a golden eagle painted on the side, yep, a golden f*cking eagle!) had been used a few weeks before in an armed robbery.

Us pickled-headed nutjobs, had gone and nicked a van right in front of about 50 coppers, watching it from a block of flats in the hope that the robbers would return to the van to collect it.

Both Marshder and Mozzer were interviewed seperately.

They asked where the van had come from.

"I bought it last night from a man in the pub"

"Where were you taking it?"

"Back to my parents garage so that I could repair it"

"Mr Mozzer, we know you were taking the van from the carpark to take to the scrapyard in the hope of getting enough money to buy cannabis resin. Your 'friend' Marshder has already told us."

To his credit, Mozzer told them that no matter what Marshder said about where they were going, HE was the one towing. If he turned left, the van being towed had little choice, and HE was driving back to his parents house.

The coppers clearly realised that we were just a bunch of kids and nothing to do with the aforementioned robbers, and eventually let the pair of them go, but not without nicking them both for no licence, mot, tax or insurance.

It gets worse.

In the meantime, Dukey's brother had written a note to himself from 'a man in the pub' claiming that he had bought the van the previous night.

He went to the police station and presented them eith the letter, and the police promptly released the van to him, no questions asked.

He then went on, later that week to sell the van for 700 quid and an Alpha TI in part exchange.

...and we thought we were getting a good deal getting 20 quid for it.

When the time came for Mozzer to go to court, the beaks asked him if he had been convicted of motoring crime in the past. He had, and as far as he was aware they already knew that, so fessed up.

The three magistrates went away for 20 mins, came back and stated that there was no record of his previous driving misdemeanors, and in view of his honesty they would only give him 6 points and a 200 quid fine.

Turns out, you can't add points to a licence if you don't have one (probably can nowadays I suspect), and these 6 points never materialised either.

So, sorry for length, but it was a tale of finding something, then losing it, then finding out that the law was an ass.
(dchurch bah, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 19:41, 2 replies)

found stuff is often intriguing, and sometimes creep...
In a box that was being thrown away, together with other junk I once found a dozen of un-opened letters to an Italian soldier at the front in WWI.

I opened them and they were from the guy's girlfriend, who in each letter was more and more worried.

I have wondered since what happened... Was he dead? Was he just leaving the letters un-opened bacause he didn't want to hear from her?

They both will be probably dead by now, and their story will remain untold.
( frox, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 19:31, 1 reply)

back in the days where people received training
I had 5 weeks on a residential course, it was their own traing centre. in the middle of all the doorframes was a little plate at waist height " oh its a detector to check the door is shut" etc.

One afternoon, I unscrewed the little brass plate and there was hole bored behind it, in it was a little note that said " Yes, I`m fucking bored too". I put it back and rescrewed the plate.
(tootired Is searching for a funny sig, nothing good so far, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 19:22, 2 replies)