Categories: uncategorized
Date: 01 August 2007 18:56:34
So there I am, walking to the train station after work tonight, when something unexpected happens. I'm about to pop into Sainsbury's for a couple of things, and dip my hand in my pocket to check I don't need to visit the cashpoints first. As I'm passing the cashpoints, a gap in the traffic opens up and a thin fella runs across from the other side of the road. He's probably in his 40s, shaved head, heavily tattooed. He nips in front of me, runs up to the cashpoint and snatches the card coming out of the slot from under the nose of its owner.
The next three seconds seem to last for minutes. The only way the thief can make his getaway is by running towards me; I'm the nearest person to him; if I don't stop him, he'll be away. My gut reaction is to let him go and not risk getting caught up in all of this - what if he's armed? But immediately the rest of my body is rebelling against my gut, preparing to block his path and try to grab him. The adrenaline is rushing, and I'm cacking my pants, wondering what's going to happen next.
What happens next takes me by surprise. The man at the cashpoint turns around and shouts "hey!" or "oi!" or something similarly attention grabbing. A couple of feet away from me, the thief stops, spins round to face his victim, and adopts a pose like a boxer squaring up to his opponent, fists raised, legs apart with knees slightly bent for balance. I'm wondering what I should do, and I suspect the other bloke at the cashpoint alongside the victim is thinking the same. And then the victim laughs as he recognises his mate who's just stitched him up, and I breathe a large sigh of relief and walk into Sainsbury's unharmed, but with maybe a couple more grey hairs than I had this morning.