earring fetish
in my teen years, i was a mite obsessed with earrings. i had 7 in one ear, 5 in the other. poor parents meant little pocket money, so i had to get my finery on 5-finger discount. the local shopping centre had a place called superdrug, which had a large selection of earrings at that time. being blessed with an extremely ample bosom, i would go in, find a pair i liked, then slip them into my cleavage when no-one was looking and leave with my purloined booty.
this wenrt on for about 6 months, i had well over a hundred pairs of earrings by this time.
then, one day, i was strolling out of the store with a particularly fine pair, when my way was blocked by the store manager and a burly security guard. "too much," says i, "nicked!"
i was indeed.
i was frogmarched through to the back of the store, to await the police, in the company of the burly guard. he was actually quite a nice bloke, we had a laugh and he told me they'd been trying to catch me for months!
the police arrived and carted me off to a holding cell. they reopened the door 5 minutes later, to see why i was laughing. my brother's name, my sister's name and the names of most of my friends had been scratched into the back of the door! i found this somewhat amusing.
i was photographed, fingerprinted, cautioned and released. three hours after being arrested, i was home. amazingly, i didn't get the bollocking i'd been expecting, but the look of pure sorrow and despair on my mother's face ensured that i have never stolen anything again.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sat 12 Jan 2008, 1:36, 1 reply)

Oh god, I'd forgotten about this
A few years ago the ex and me went to visit some of her friends over in Ruislip. We had a few drinks, and repaired to the offie to pick up a few more. We bought the drinks, but something caught my eye. This being the days before chip 'n' pin, they kept a cup full of pens on the counter. A rather fetching plastic cup in the shape of Jar Jar Binks's head. When the shop assistant's back was turned, I picked it up, pens and all, and dumped it in my bag. Everyone else there saw it, plus the whole shop was CCTVed up to the eyeballs so I knew my crime would not go unnoticed for long. I scarpered back to the house and we carried on drinking.

The next morning, with a hangover from hell, I awoke to find Jar Jar staring accusingly at me. I felt guilty as fuck, and then the paranoia started to creep in. I was terrified for weeks that the video footage would come back to haunt me, and that I'd be arrested for such a stupid, petty crime. I've never been to Ruislip since, and I left Jar Jar behind at the ex's friends' house, too ashamed to even take my prize home.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Sat 12 Jan 2008, 0:18, 5 replies)

the greater good
Whenever using a computer (well, keyboard) that isn't my own, I'll stick my pen into the gap between the keys and steal the insert key.

I just don't like it, and the key is never missed by anyone.
(po po, Sat 12 Jan 2008, 0:07, 4 replies)

freshers week 1999
myself and my brand new / first ever flatmates (1 was the spitting image of willy wonka and was a total manc twunt! the rest were, and still are, good lads) set off to the local spar to get as much booze as we could possibly carry for our flatwarming. so, being the biggest out of our merry little band i was handed the task of carrying the 3 crates of beer we opted to purchase. so off we tot to the checkout where all the munchies and bottles of wine / spirits were duly placed on the counter. as there was not enough room for the beer i decided to keep hold of them and stand next to the counter for the spotty geek/ cashier to scan them.

he didnt.

but im pleased to report that my conscience is clear. its not like i outright stole them - the cashier simply 'forgot' to scan them!
(babyjak, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 23:42, Reply)

guilty little boy
the only thing i ever stole as a kid was a little lego man from the play table at a little chef. i felt so guilty on the way home, i burst into tears and told my mum and dad everything. the beginning and end of burgeoning criminal career.
(badfox1 wonders who he's played by this episode on, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 22:54, Reply)

I had a good time...
Me and someone, who shall remain nameless, was in boots in MK, we was up to no good in there, doing the usual on the run up to Christmas, 5 or so years ago... Spotted some old woman trying to look for some perfect gift for the love of her life. She had a hood on, I took a tag off one of the smellies and dropped it in her hood. We then followed her around until the inevitible happened. She tried to walk out of the shops with the 5 or 6 bags she was carrying and the alarms went off. Security went straight for her and we watched for about 15 minutes as they went through all her bags. They kept on getting her to walk through and checking her pockets and everything. Eventually they found the tag in her hood, but we had a good quarter of an hour entertainment on an otherwise boring day for Mr T leaf, his friend and their 5 finger discount card.
(goonbreath, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 22:43, 2 replies)

give it a rest
This is an often controversial website asking for funny anecdotes about shoplifting.

There is no need for every third reply to posts to be along the lines of "you thieving cunt, the world doesnt owe you a favour blah blah blah..."

Some people find theft to be morally reprehensile. If thats you, then fine, but you dont need to remind us every ten minutes. Come back for next weeks question.
(dave likes cheese, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 22:17, 4 replies)

Train fare evasion
Yes, it is only tenuously connected, but I can say I've never knowingly stolen from a shop so this'll have to do.

Often my other half and I, travelling to see each other, would buy a Saver Return. The return portion was valid for a month. Simplicity itself to have a return portion for journeying in each direction. Simple but effective.

My justification? It's so bloody expensive anyway. I don't like doing it but I wouldn't be able to afford to see her otherwise.
(Le Misanthrope last procrastinated on, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 21:32, 5 replies)

nickin'
Many years ago, friend of mine walked into woolies, took a computer game off the shelf, then took it to the counter and said he'd bought it yesterday and could he have a refund, he'd lost the receipt. walked out of there with the money. he's probably the reason they started putting tags on stuff and keeping discs behind the counter and so on
(streaky31 A naked American man stole my balloons, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 21:23, Reply)

Not me, but I was there, honest...
Whilst a student, I was out drinking with friends. Oddly enough. We were but first years at the time, newly away from the parentals and exploring the limits of our new-found freedom. Well, *they* were, anyway. I'd done all of that since turning 18-looking at school. Who'd have thought that being eyewateringly ugly had its benefits, eh?

Anyhoo, one of our number (we'll call him M, 'cause I can't remember his name) decided that he wanted a couple of pint glasses from the student bar that we were currently drinking in. He offered his mate (K, same reason) a can of lager for every glass he managed to 'liberate'. This was on the basis that K was wearing his new Columbine coat, and so had plenty of hiding space. K agreed, and promised to swipe all the ones we could empty. We got stuck in with a will, and soon had about fifteen empties hidden under our table. Then, given the amount of beer monstering, someone drunkenly suggested that the number of tinnies should be doubled if he could get them out on his head. Stupidly, M agreed.

Come the end of the night, they called last orders. By this time they were down to plastic glasses, so we decided to leave then, and miss the rush. K calmly started stacking glasses together, dumped the whole lot into a jar with a handle that someone's pint had arrived in, slapped the whole lot on his head, and made for the door. We all thought 'No way!'. At the door, K dropped to his knees, and shuffled out of the bar, with fifteen pint glasses (or so) on his head. Past the doorman, who wished him a cheery good night, and into a cold and unfriendly evening. Once outside, K stood up again, and graciously accepted a huge round of applause from those assembled.

We lurched drunkenly back to M's student house. On counting the glasses, M realised he owed K thirty-two cans of lager. K was overjoyed. M was less so.

I believe that M eventually paid up, through the device of telling his parents that he'd had an accident and needed to pay for repairs... Nice one.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 20:53, 3 replies)

Prick.
When I was pissed up I used to like stealing the leads that plug in the fruit machines from pubs. I am not sure why.
( baldmonkey a frothy foul-smelling vaginal discharge, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 20:49, Reply)

oooh, and a big wad
i got my student loan cheque through the post and banked it. Knowing full well that a big bill was coming up and I had spent the money already, I decided to draw against teh cheque. Sort of paying Paul off really. Unbeknownst to the bank, I had another accont elsewhere so I withdrew the lot to put it in and look after it (ie - spend it). It was a building society thing with a passbook that they printed all your transactions on, and so i nervously walked through Levenshulme at lunchtime carrying £800 in my wallet. Having made it to the building society, I politely waited in the queue and then walked up to the counter and presented my money and passbook to the nice lady.
"I would like to make a deposit please" I announced proudly
" certainly sir" she said before proudly counting my wad of 20 pound notes
All the way up to £900!
I caught myself checking for cameras as she said it. £100 more than i handed her.
"yes please" i said, hoping to god i wasnt going mental or being filmed
then watched her tap a few things on a keyboard, open a drawer up, deposit the notes in pile, and print up my passbook.
I walked around the corner and had a coffee just to see fi I had imagined it. Then went ot the hole in the walll to check my balance. I promptly withdrew £100 and got fucked up for as long as I possibly could at the expense of someone elses job!
(kaptinkurtz, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 20:34, 1 reply)

porn
porn and more porn
vast quantities of the stuff. I used to work the morning shift in the town newsagent on a sunday for a pittance of a pay. Shit hours, shit pay, dealing with twats. My folks were impressed with my work ethic, but they didn't realise the fringe benefits. This allowed me to siphon money off the customers in their change. It fed a 10 a day cigarette habit for two years in "reclaimed" rolling tobacco. It allowed me to read and steal an awfully huge amount of porn.
bloody loved it
(kaptinkurtz, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 20:22, Reply)

Prog Rock Thievery
Sad, I know, but if you lost a couple of Rush cassettes sometime in the mid '80s after a young relative of yours used your house in Middlesbrough for a party ... I confess, 'twas me.
(ramrod_newell had his hair brushed at, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 20:04, 1 reply)

Gilt trip
Back when I lived in Bristol, I had a brilliant apartment which I shared with a friend, that overlooked the floating harbour. The real selling point of this place was the HUGE patio with a view of the Bristol skyline and enough room to comfortably house 20 or some people for some outdoor bbq party action. My housemate was a keen gardener, and wanted to buy a huge planter to put some of the more impressive shrubs and such in that he'd grown over the years. But these things cost a fortune, a couple of hundred quid, easily. So he hatched a plan...

We lived down the road from a plumbers yard (Bristol residents may now be getting an idea of where the flat was). This yard usually had old bathroom suites outside which were waiting to be scrapped. One night, while a bit pissed, my housemate liberated a bath from the yard and dragged it back to the flat, took it onto the patio and sprayed it bronze with some Hammerite paint. Chuck in some soil and some rocks for drainage and bingo, we have ourselves a planter, and a real talking point to boot...

Three years on and we're ready to move. We've cleared the house, cleaned it and... oh, hang on, there's a bath full of soil and plants outside...

18 bin bags of dirt and rocks later and we've emptied the fucker. The plants have been repotted and the bath is spent. So we load it in a van to take it to the tip.

Except the tip won't take it. The van is too tall and we can't unload outside and carry it in for "health and safety" (ie jobsworth) reasons.

So we hatched another plan. Under cover of darkness, we picked the bath up and carried it back to the yard where it had be stolen from. We casually dumped it outside the front door and scarpered. Next morning we walked past to see a very confused looking plumbers merchant wondering how a bronze spray painted bath had materialised during the previous 24 hours.

So no, I've never stolen anything. But I have returned stolen goods to their original homes after a "changing rooms" style makeover... I like to think of it as a public service

And if you've made it this far, apologies for taking five minutes of your life that you'll never get back...
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 19:15, 2 replies)

I don't consider it 'stealing'...
but when I was in charge of the back door area in Tescos I 'borrowed' a 6 foot tall glass fronted fridge that was left outside for a bit while the front of store was being re-vamped. They were waiting for a company to come and collect it so I had a moment of inspiration - I chose to rob it by waiting for a quiet moment to reverse my Vauxhall Astra in and force a 16 year old to help me lump it into the back (with my seats knocked down).
Next came a devious plan to get people to cover for me for 30 mins while I drove the fridge round to a practise room my band was renting (2 floors up twisty stairs) where I wrenched the fucker up all by myself, plugged it in and then drove back to pretend that 'the binmen must have taken it by accident.'
I drove round to the room about 2 hours later at the end of my shift to find this pungent smelling shit box it the corner of the room.
Apparently, the back of a fridge is quite delicate and it shouldn't be repeatedly smashed on the floor and dragged up a staircase? Cheap crap.
I also used to damage cans of beer and reduce the remaining packs by about 80% and sell them to myself and my alchoholic manager who kept the deal sweet.
Ahhh life was good...

p.s. the fridge was thrown out of some double windows for a laugh when me and the bass player got pissed the next night and then we left it at the top of the bank next to the same Tescos i took it from.
Told you I was only going to borrow it
(Merrick I cure cats with hammers, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 18:46, Reply)

Blame the barman...
When I was travelling in Italy a few years back I went out on the lash in Florence. Beatiful city. Anyhow, I ended up with some brand new friends in some random bar. We were all pretty pissed and it was my turn to buy the drinks. Unfortunately, being a guy and all, I lack breasts. It would seem these appendages were the keys to service at this particular bar. I waited for what seemed like hours and the barmen flirted with and served girl after girl. In the end I thought 'fuck it, nobody is paying any attention to me' so I leaned over the bar and grabbed the first bottle of spirits I could reach. Made up with my, now concealed, steal I headed back to the table and with a flourish produced

a bottle of triple sec.

For those of you not familiar with the aforementioned beverage, it tastes foul with just about everything. We still drank it though. Hid the empty bottle in the toilet cistern.

Happy days!
(ComplexStuff Was confused by life on, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 18:44, Reply)

Not lifting per se
I was in a store of a major chain of clothing brand (rhymes with Liver Thailand) near my home town in the midst of the 'January' sales towards the end of December when I noticed that this man-bag I had been eyeing up for months now was on sale, and there was only one of them left.

'Great!' I thought, and so I trotted to the tills like a pig on E, my man-bag and some very nice shirts grasped firmly in my eager hands and gave the required amount of cash to the nice-looking (I recall) woman behind the counter.

Mother Fantastic duly takes me home, and I decide to investigate the full spec of my new man bag. I opened it, drooling with anticipation, took out all of the useless plastic and paper and while rooting around the bottom of the bag, looking for secret compartments, my hand falls upon something. I pull this small leather square out and examine it...

Jimi Hendrix motif wallet, complete with "SALE! ONLY £7!" tag. 'Free wallet!!' I exclaim, and proceed to force all manner of crap inside this shiny new wallet from my old one without a thought of taking my swag back - it is a 10 mile round trip after all!

[Insert Length Here]
(CptFantastic stopped doing work on, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 18:15, 2 replies)

The Star Wars Kid.

It was summer time. I was 13. Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back just came out in theaters and I completely had to have EVERY SINGLE TRADING CARD that was ever printed. One problem - I had no money being only 13 and mowing the lawn didn't pay much back then. I went into the local convenience store, directly across the street from my elementary school, and went right to the trading cards. Keeping an eye out for the cashier, I stuffed my pockets until they were bulging thick. What I neglected to notice was the large convex security mirror directly above my head. A rather large bald rough looking (yes, I still think so) man with large muscles, wearing a short sleeve shirt walked around the corner. He put his hands on his hips and just glared at me. I panicked and froze. My right hand still clutching some cards. I proceeded to unload my pockets, flopping the card packs back into the bin from whence they came. When I finished un-stealing, this man grabbed me by my arm and literally dragged and then pushed me out of the store - never saying a word. He didn't really have to - I took me 5 months before I got the courage up to go back in and purchase a simple pack of gum. Completely terrified and scared for life.

OH - and I'm much older now, but only recently stopped stealing those expensive razor cartridge- AND - still have a nice set of Empire Strikes Back Trading Cards if anyone is interested.
(xianstudio, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 17:52, Reply)

oh the guilt!
when i was young - only 4 or 5 - i used to go into work with my mum one day a week. across the road from her office (she worked for refuge insurance) there was a large toy shop. this being the 70s and a time of childish innocence i was able to mooch over the road during the day and look around. one day i helped myself to a ball - tennis ball size and rubber, filled with air. the fun i had with that ball was special - it was mine and only i knew how i'd got it! the following week when we arrived at her work the shop had closed down - for a long time i carried the heavy weight of shame that the loss of that ball had caused the shop to go out of business; why else would it have closed??

it led to a lifetime of adolescent crime - i stole a pen from the local newsagent and took it back to get the cash. i stole posters from wh smiths, i used to steal clothes from fosters - honestly, you just went in the changing rooms with 3 items and then just walked out the store wearing them! oooh, i stole fags from the local co-op - they had no entrance bell and the checkout woman used to loaf in the back, get in quietly and the fags were yours! i also robbed 100, yes 100, scratch cards - this was pre-national lottery bear in mind - and won £5, proof that scratch cards are for mugs! my ultimate downfall came during a school trip to a museum when i was collared nabbing a fecking ashtray - suspension, caning (yeah, i'm THAT old) and a note home for my mum... i gave up after that... well, except for the odd fosters rob - it was just too easy....

that's only a bit of what i robbed - i'm quite shocked actually...
( sir loafalot ended an eon of lurking on, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 17:50, Reply)

More Greek ineptitude
This is a vaguely theft-related story. I make absolutely no apologies for it being tenuously linked to this week’s question, it’s just that frankspencer’s tale of Greek bank-robbery ineptitude caused this to filter through my brain.

Many years ago, long before we met, Tourette’s lived and worked on Kos. Apparently one evening, she and her flatmate were having a few drinks in a bar, when the local in-bred nutter, with delusions of being a Godfather-esque mafia type, had a bit of an altercation with my sweary other half, which resulted in her telling him to fuck off (surprisingly).

The night drawing to a close, they left the bar, still with the in-bred’s empty threats ringing in their ears. Back in the safety of their apartment, they went to bed and off to the land of nod. However, Tourette’s mate was awoken by a scuffing noise coming from the bathroom, so got up to investigate and found the in-bred prising himself indelicately through the open bathroom window, either hopeful of the chance of stealing something or rendering a severe beating. No one knows what to this day. She put the light on, and was about to give him an almighty bollocking when he caught her eye, winked, and put his fingers to his lips in the universal sign language of ‘Shhhhh’…

One chasing down the street and a severe beating later, he apparently became their best mate and long time protector. In his eyes, anyway.

(Tourette's could probably tell this story better than me since she was there, but I fear getting her to pop her B3ta cherry may take some time. So apologies to her for any inaccuracies).
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 11 Jan 2008, 17:49, 1 reply)

Last night...
...some feckless oik tried to steal a car from my road. At 4am.

He was rubbish at it. Broke the window as loudly as possible, set off the alarm and couldn't turn it off again, and then when he tried to drive the damn thing away, he just burned the tyres and slammed forward into the car parked in front of him, setting off another alarm.

Sleep-stealing git.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 17:10, 2 replies)

Shoplifting
Used to be a bad boy when younger, nicked loads. Not only did it save money, it was also exciting, and best of all, no time wasted bloody queueing. Once I only nicked something because of the length of the queue.

Got caught eventually, cautioned, etc. That caution is kept a secret from the outside world, providing I don't break the law for 20 years from that date, at which point the record is destroyed (or so they pretend). But otherwise, it's chokey for me. Or so they said.

Sorted myself out. Stopped being scruffy shameless criminal scum. Got a proper job. Payed taxes. Grew up. Learned a few useful latin phrases. Et cetera.

Anyway. Was recently in a shop, trying to buy some gadget for a friend. Got more and more cross with the lazy bloody staff ignoring me and chatting about their holidays, and finally decided to do something I'd always wanted to do when waiting like this. Just blatantly walk out with it. My theory being, that when they run over and point out that I haven't paid I can (1) point out that's their fault, thus gaining satisfaction and (2) pay them then, thus saving time. I'm a tad of an impatient fellow.

So out I strode, aforementioned technology brazenly held in my arms.

No-one noticed. I hesitated outside with the stolen goods for a bit. I went home. I'd shoplifted by mistake.

I hope they didn't have good CCTV. I'm a bit scared now.
(pussell rarker, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 16:59, 3 replies)

Jazz - OK, Rock - Magazines
When I was 14 I found myself with a new step-brother a year older than me, who was in to guitar. He had been moved, forcibly, from England to South Africa, where I had been since 6, and was not happy about the downgrade in culture.

Before long we were making regular trips to the CNA (like WH Smith) in the nearest big town, where we took, like ducks to water, to stuffing imported rock magazines under our jumpers. Circus, Hit Parader, Guitar Player, and later (for me) Bass Player - this went on for at least a year.

This was before CCTV had reached that part of the world, but this crime spree came to a halt when the store brought in security. I think he was supposed to be "plain clothes", but we spotted him with little difficulty. Imagine a South African rugby player with a policeman's haircut, loitering around in a cheap suit. Voertsek, jou pielkop!

We put the magazines back, and sauntered out the door. By that time we actually had pocket money anyway, so we could afford to buy the occasional magazine, and had only been stealing them for kicks. Closer to home, I had managed to lift a huge quantity of soft drink from the fridge outside a local garage, and nearly exploded from sugar and CO2. Good thing we moved to a different town before too long... it could have gotten very ugly.
( bnt what, me worry?, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 16:52, Reply)

Starting early
My little 20 month old swiped a plastic cowboy from nursery the other day. I found it in his pocket when he got home.

I'm trying to teach to identify wallets or hard cash. I may as well make use of his thievery.
(Tom Jones's Mojo Hasn't had any since, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 16:26, Reply)

Bloke I met
I once got chatting to an Irish bloke in a pub here in Manchester who claimed to be one of the world's best shoplifters. I had my doubts about this until he told me that, a few years previously, he'd lifted the whole Arndale Centre 6 feet up...
(ScousersPet, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 16:17, 1 reply)

"Anti smack head" flourescent lighting
I once knew someone that stole one of those blue flourescent lights, intact with all the fittings. You know, those "Anti smack head" lights that light up a trippy blue colour to inhibit would be smack heads from injecting themselves.

He nicked it from a local train station, and, amazingly, managed to walk out with it down his trouser leg and under his shirt. Obviously, as a result he couldn't bend one knee, so he exited the premises walking in a somewhat robotic matter.

I really don't know how he got away with it. Looked cool as fuck in his living room though as mood lighting.

Got a couple of more mad stories to share...stay tuned...
(Panteneman Isn't entirely sure why he bothered on, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 16:13, 1 reply)

Espana
Stole 6 packs of Espana '82 panini stickers from a local shop. Still haven't got fucking Dino Zoff. Will swapsies for Paolo Rossi, Mick Wells, 3 x Bryan Robson and Poland Team (silver one).
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 16:08, 1 reply)