I was in the works canteen this morning. My usual SOP is to wander in, buy two pieces of toast and wander back out again. All the breakfast stuff is a buffet style affair. You grab whatever you want and give some money to the one-toothed hag behind the till. This morning was different. I walked in. No one behind the till. No white toast. I stuck my head behind the kitchen door, and said to the fat c-unt who makes the food. "Any chance of some white toast, please mate?" "No probs, it'll be out in a minute" I went back out and waited by the empty toast plate. I had a bit of a look round. Still no one at the till. Lovely. I grabbed two pieces of bacon and quickly stuffed them in my grid. I'm not bacon's biggest fan, but stolen bacon has a taste all its own. As I started chewing it, the till dragon came back from smoking her Kensington Javelin (99p for 500) and clocked me. Trying to look innocent, I turned my back to her and carried on troughing my pilfered treat. When the toast came out, i'd managed to swallow the bacon, so was able to pay for my two pieces of warm bread (42p, the robbing tw-ats) and not the bacon (30p a slice you fcuking thieving arabs). A job well done i'd say. Being the introspective sort of individual that I am, I took to thinking about my thieving. Why did I nick the bacon. I had the dosh. I don't even like bacon that much. I came to the conclusion, that like blimping and bezzering, pilfering is a skill, best kept well honed. The first time I nicked anything I was 8 and dared to so by a bunch of my mates. Pickerings newsagents on Platt Lane was the target. Sweets fcuking everywhere and just two doddery old gits minding the shop. Trouble was, they were very child aware, one served and one kept a beady eye on any scruffy little munchkins like me. At no point was there an opportunity to nick anything so I just bought a 10p mix and made my way towards the door. I could see the rest of the lads waiting for me expectantly and didn't want to disappoint. I had one last chance to bag some swag. When I got outside they were all, "What did you get, what did you get, show us convoy, come on, come on." I opened my coat to reveal.................................a copy of 'Jaws' by Peter Benchley. Truly I was the artful dodger of Fallowfield town. As they ribbed me the whole way home, I realised that pilfering skills were worth having and vowed to continue my education. The book came in handy as well. As usual, I got caught short, and pages 1 to 37 were used to render my 8 year old tea-towel holder, clag free. Come on arrsers, tell of your pilfering exploits, the more daring the better. Remember though, all pilfering must be done from 'the man' Any mate on mate action deserves ball pein hammering to the knuckles of both hands.