Late Thursday night (technically at quarter past two on Friday morning), I'm sat downstairs with the lights off, as one does, when I hear some very strange noises from outside. I go to the window and look out to see three young men giving it the excessively casual walk whilst looking in at the house. I hear another odd noise and look round to see two other lads running down the path and across the road into the park, carrying what looks like a small roll of carpet between them.
Since five-to-one odds are what we in Salford call "a recipe for getting your head kicked in", I call t' fuzz and spend the rest of the night playing video games with the lights on and my trusty Spear and Jackson Combat Spade in easy reach. What? No, it's your bog-standard gardening implement, except I don't really do any gardening and have only ever used it once to dig a post-hole for a washing line. It's handy and would probably hurt an awful lot if you get smacked in the face with it, so that's that.
Come the morning, and I stick my head outdoors. There's no sign of them having been round the back of the house, which is what I'd originally thought they'd been doing, perhaps having robbed one of the houses behind mine. Closer inspection reveals a lovely pair of footprints on the bonnet of my car and more on the set of multicoloured wheelie bins that the local council insisted on giving me, despite me not producing enough recyclable waste to justify anything but a small blog and a plastic recycle-your-other-plastics box.
I look up and notice that the porch over the front door looks a bit odd. The bathroom window overlooks the porch, so I go up and take a look out. The reason the porch looks odd is that the so-ons have stolen the lead sheeting that covered it.
Now what am I supposed to do when I rediscover the Philosopher's Stone? I'm not made of base metals, you know!
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