Page 128 - Once a copper 10 03 2020

I’m not sure if this is a local thing, but in Birmingham, a ‘tatters’ van would
circulate sounding their horn, collecting scrap metal and unwanted
household white goods, washing machines, fridges, cookers, in fact anything
that contained metal. It was often a way of exchanging scrap for cash
instead of taking it to the local waste site.

At Bonnie and Clydes, there were two of everything in the garden. Two
fridges, two cookers and so on. Now it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce
that a typical household may have one of each to dispose of, but more than
one told me they were ‘lifting’ other peoples’ property. Whether someone
wanted the tatter to take an item without charge or for a fee is the choice of
the owner. Taking it without consent was theft, pure and simple. I had a
degree of increasing reasonable suspicion as I walked down the path.

So flagrant (or stupid) were they, that they had left a girls shiny new Raleigh
pedal cycle leaning against the side of the house. I guessed the other one
wouldn’t be far away. A shiny new bike looks somewhat out of place in
house that looked like it was abandoned, with broken windows, filthy, ragged
net curtains and a garden so overgrown I said to my pal “They should be
nicking lawnmowers”.

The door was slightly ajar, so I pushed and called out “Hello, anyone in?” I
was met with a sight of a woman who I estimated must have been in her
sixties at least. I discovered later she was 35. Her hair was filthy and matted.
My mind went back to what the nosey neighbour had said, and I instantly
agreed she not only needed a wash, but fumigation was more appropriate.
In full uniform it was obvious to anyone we were coppers, but I introduced
myself and my mate anyway. As she spoke, I saw she only had a couple of
teeth, which were both a greeny-brown colour. In between her fingers she
held a roll-up cigarette. One of thousands I thought, noticing her tobacco
coloured fingers and dirt encrusted fingernails. I think you get the picture, this
wasn’t a vision of loveliness in front of me.
“Yow come about them bikes? I told ‘em to stay away from the new ones,
they stick out too much”. She said.

Knowing I had struck pay-dirt I asked if Bonnie and Clyde were at home. She
said they were out the back garden. As I walked down the entry at the side
of the house, I couldn’t figure if this old crone was the mother or grandmother
of Bonnie and Clyde. It turned out she was their mother!

I appeared in the garden to catch the two miscreants, spray paint cans in
hands, busily spraying what was obviously the other new Raleigh bike. I
Page128
should have said “Oy you” in language they would have understood, but
instead I said “Ahem!” The look of defeat in their eyes said it all.