I've just had my first real experience of a crime.
I live in a London basement flat in a good bit of a 'bad area.' Apparently there is a nearby bail house. What's that I ask the police? Oh could I be anymore sheltered?
Crime statistics, the police, skags, I LIVE IN DEVON, what is this tomfoolery you speak of?
I'm sat on my bed, quietly deciding if I should sell my Mulberry bag on ebay for a couple of hundred pounds so I can afford a Mui Mui Tassel bag when outside my very window a similar conundrum is taking place. Namely, shall I break into this house so that I can get my next fix of heroin?
I am amazed at my senses really, my ears were immediately alerted to an alien sound outside he french doors in my bedroom. The quiet movement of something unnatural, the feel of a hand against the wall and a firm push at the door, once and then twice.
I have to whole heartedly commend my housemate on his immediate action in calling the police, no messing about. 'THAT'S IT, I'VE HAD ENOUGH!'
And the police were amazing; for all the stick the Met get in London for various terrorist cock ups, the assistance I received in this house, on this night (Obama has infiltrated my mind) has made me feel safe and protected.
Four police personnel arrived within minutes of us dialing 999, I thought they would think we were wasting their time, er it's London, we've got actual stabbings to deal with love, but they were on the ball and fierce about reassuring us.
Our neighbours have a wendy house for their children to play in, and that was the first place the police looked for the intruder before bolting across the gardens. Next time they said they would bring their sniffer dogs.
Fuck; next time?!