Friday, February 20, 2004

Last Thursday, I was meeting R for a drink in Kilburn (I'd just flown in from NY, wasn't up for trecking into town). Our previous meet had been snowed off, the day of the Big Snow.

So I walk down to the station for our assignation, and the place is crawling with police. I mean, crawling. Fluorescent vests over uniform, the whole megillah. Dogs. They're standing around, looking obvious. It's about 8pm.

In my usual neighbourly way (remember my bus shelter? Don't even ask), I enquire about what's going on.

Me: Hi, you guys look busy, what's going on?
Police officer: We're on an operation.
Me: Oh, right.
Police officer: Nothing to be alarmed about. (I must look scared). There's a lot of burglary in this area, and it's on the increase. We think they use this station.
Me: Er, right.
Police officer: So, we're a deterrent. They see us, they know
Me: Oh, OK. Should I get a new burglar alarm?
Police officer: Don't be alarmed, it's just a precaution.

It honestly did go something like that. So burglars use the tube? Right. And then they carry home our TVs, DVDs, and white goods in large bags labelled swag, all over the London underground network. Pull the other one, officer, it's got bells on it.

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