The Adventure of the Heinous Crime

In which I break the law...

This is the story of the crime I committed that haunted me for many years. I think an important thing to note before I tell this story is that I was a stupid child. I may have been pretty successful when it came to the academic stuff but in every way that really mattered I was just naïve and stupid. When I was about eleven the family were driving somewhere and were involved in a very minor accident. Someone rear-ended our car at a pretty slow speed. I burst into tears and my parents thought that I'd been hurt but I was just worried that we were now stuck some fifteen miles from home with no way of returning. I couldn't work out that a car can still drive with minor damage and never considered that there were actually multiple ways we could have got home anyway, from buses to taxis to phoning someone up. As I say, I was stupid. 

This tale takes place a few years earlier even than that. I was maybe eight years old and was a member of the local Beavers group. For some reason the group had a day trip to Weymouth Sea Life Centre. I seemed to spend a lot of time at that centre. I think it was probably a relatively cheap day out so I'd go there with Beavers, with my family and a group I was part of known as 'Nature Squad'  (yes, I was a nerd) would have occasional Magical Mystery Tour events which almost always turned out to be a trip to Weymouth Sea Life Centre. 

In more recent years Sea Life Centres have broadened their appeal and have added attractions like penguins and otters but no-one had thought of that back at the turn of the century. There was only so many times you could feign interest in looking at the same fish. I'd try to entertain myself by attempting to photograph them but when the film was processed the vast majority would turn out blurry because it's very difficult to take photos in an aquarium. At least taking a photo in those days took a good few minutes because you'd then have to fiddle around winding the film on.

Usually you'd rush through the aquarium and get to the outside bit which contained the playgrounds which would be one of the highlights. If I was really lucky my parents would have provided me with as much as five pounds in coins which I was allowed to spend freely. I'd inevitably spend one of these pounds on a bookmark from the shop (told you I was a nerd) and then the rest would probably end up returning home. 

On the occasion in question however our group were allowed to spend some time in the hut that housed a miniature amusements arcade. I found myself converting my remaining spending money into 2p coins to use in the Penny Pusher machines. I had my eye on a keyring that was quite close to the edge that probably wasn't worth much more than 2p itself. I fed the 2p coins in and as more and more slid down the keyring kept coming closer. Eventually my supply of coins ran out and the keyring was tantalisingly close to the edge. 

I looked around. The other kids in my group were focused on another game and the responsible adult had proved not to be especially responsible and was nowhere to be seen. I looked back at the machine and the desire to have that keyring engulfed me. I used all my strength, which wasn't that much at the time, and shook the machine. Sure enough, the keyring and a bunch of 2p coins fell over the edge. To my horror though the machine was alarmed and immediately began chirping away. In a panic I quickly scooped up the keyring and as many coins as I could pick up in the same movement and in a way that I hoped was sly but in reality probably couldn't have looked more suspicious, left the little amusement arcade. 

No-one seemed to notice the blaring alarm but I knew I was done for. I was pretty certain that it would be directly connected to the local police station. I stood in the middle of the little plaza fully expecting a team of armed officers to arrive, possibly in a helicopter. 

A few minutes which felt like a few years passed and no-one came. Eventually the responsible adult made an appearance and shepherded the group on to look at the fish yet again. Fish are supposed to be relaxing to watch but nothing can make you calm down when you are a fugitive on the run. Eventually we returned to the minibus and somehow I made it back home without being caught. 

I lay in bed that night clutching my illicit keyring that no-one else knew I had. I couldn't tell my parents in case they squealed. I expected any minute to hear the sound of the front door being broken down as the police finally caught up with me. But nothing happened and eventually, after hours of laying in fear, I finally made it to sleep. 

A few days went by and gradually my fears shrank a little. The keyring was now safely deposited under a bookshelf where no-one would ever find it and the police had yet to find me. I was still hugely nervous though. I suspected I'd almost certainly been caught on CCTV and I'd made the rookie error of committing the felony whilst wearing my Beaver uniform, complete with a badge identifying which troop I belonged to. It was only a matter of time. 

Several weeks later it was lunchtime at school and I was playing on the playground, finding new and exciting ways to rip holes into the knees of my trousers. Suddenly there came the sound of a siren approaching the school. It grew louder and louder until I could see the flashing blue lights of a police car through the fence. I immediately abandoned my friends and sprinted across the playground, quickly feigning to an adult that I needed to go to the toilet. In I went and hid in a cubicle, barely daring to breath for fear it may alert a cop to my presence. No-one entered and then the whistle for the end of break blew and it was time to return to lessons. 

I'd like to say I soon moved pass this but that would be a lie. For something like the next five years I lived in fear and every time I heard a siren I was convinced this was the moment my life of crime would come to a dramatic end. Gradually I began to realise that too much time had passed and then that I'd probably only got away with items valuing no more than 30p which the police probably weren't too worried about. I probably wasn't the UK's most wanted criminal after all. 

This is very much a true story and though written for comic effect the facts are true. I was a really stupid child. 

All these years later, in my old bedroom at my Mum and Dad's house, under a bookshelf and obscured by a layer of dust lies the spoils of my enormous crime: a lump of plastic that vaguely resembles a dog with a metal keyring attached.