So that was exciting...

I went to Forbidden Planet to pick up comics - very exciting, I know, but there's the latest Buffy! With Fray! *squee* But that wasn't it.

From there, I headed up the road to go onto the Moor to Sainsbury's, because I'm out of corn thins (wheat problem). But that wasn't it either.

At the top of the road, right by the Moor, there's a little row of bike racks. And at one of them, there was a skinny wee scrote with a big pair of bolt cutters*. And - very briefly - I thought 'I could ignore this, and in a second he'll be away'.

Then I was over the road, holding onto the bike, suggesting that maybe the bike wasn't his, and maybe we should go talk to a community support officer about it. He said it was his, in that sullen way that skinny wee scrotes have when they're lying through their back teeth, and tried to tug it out of my hand (the other one had comics in).

About then another woman twigged that maybe everything wasn't fine, and she came up and took hold of the bike, and the scrote shoved the bolt cutters inside his tracksuit top and walked briskly off down the Moor. Only it wasn't brisk, it was more that 'I ain't done nuffin' wrong, an' you can't stop me' kind of not-wanting-to-get-stopped-by-the-police walk that skinny wee scrotes have.

And I and the woman and the guy and the other woman she was with all exchanged exclamations of ZOMG! WTF?! I don't BELEEEVE it! and the woman went round to Woolworths to get a security guard, and by the time she got back with the security guard, the police had arrived.

Wow! Speedy! Er, no, they were there for something else, and I talked with them, and they radioed it in and got their CCTV guys to check - because this is on camera, hi BB, thanks for watching us - and then the kid whose bike it really was came back with his friend.

And the police have my name and my contact numbers, and I have corn thins and comics and a cup of tea and a fading shakiness in my stomach. So. That was it. Crime-fighting, and me without my mask and cape. Shucks.

* Yes, he had a large pair of bolt cutters. He could have had a knife. If I'd thought about the possible risk, maybe I'd have not confronted him. Maybe I should have shouted 'Stop! Thief!' instead. Then again, he just didn't look threatening at all, quite frankly. Just an opportunist little shite who deserves to have the snot beaten out of him be shown the error of his ways. And this kind of thing makes me so cross! If the occasion arises again, I'll probably end up doing the very same thing. Proof that I don't learn.