Crime Doesn't Pay

When you’re a thief, the hardest question is knowing what to do with your swag. You can guarantee that when The Scream was pilfered in Oslo two years ago, the culprits didn’t just pop down to the local art dealer the next day and ask: “How Munch for that then, Guv?”

When thieves attempted the outrageous heist of the Millennium Star diamond, you can be pretty sure the chief perpetrator wasn't going to just plonk it on a ring and propose to his dearly betrothed.

So when a gang of scallywags pulled off the meticulously planned theft of £50,000,000 in used bank notes on Wednesday, it seemed like the perfect crime. Sadly not. Just two days later and we hear that three of them have been rumbled, the latest one trying to deposit £6000 of the stolen loot in a Building Society in Bromley. The cash was wrapped in tape labelled 'Tonbridge' - the name of the depot where the heist took place. You kind of hope she remembered to take off her mask and stripy jumper before she did it.

When I was at university, I was burgled. Twice. Luckily the chap who broke in both times had the mental capacity of a cucumber, as he flogged the stolen goods at our local pawn shop, leaving his own name, address and telephone number. It didn't take the police long to track him down. The next day I managed to take a look at the police report, and noticed that the thief's name was Nixon. Somehow, it didn't surprise me.