Written by armfeetandtoe

Tuesday, 4 October 2011

image for Why I did not become a Train Driver: By Gary Hoadley Me not driving a train

I began to steal from an early age. I was caught stealing sweets from a shop at age five. Not that I needed to. My parents were decent people and paid their debts on time and always settled the grocery bill at the end of the week.

I could have anything I wanted from the shop all, I had to do was ask. Not me! If I could get it out the shop undiscovered, it was a victory. On this occasion I lost the battle, but I was determined not to lose the war.

And so this strange feeling that I got from taking things from under people's noses without detection continued into my early teenage years. When I was thirteen I decided to steal a motorbike then a car. I was a good driver and knew how to open and start most vehicles from the 60s and early 70s made.

On occasion the police gave chase, but I was quick of foot and able to outrun the fastest dog the Metropolitan Police could let loose on me. I also had the ability to climb which saved my bacon numerous times.

Sadly I also started using violence as a way of escaping from pursuing hoards of shopkeepers police bank managers and the occasional do gooder who wanted to join in.

I was big, strong and could throw a punch. I could also use a baseball bat and any other implement that came to hand in the melee. I'm not boasting, just stating fact.

At age fifteen I was working on the door of a nightclub in Earls Court. I was a bouncer, not like the doormen and women of today, I would use any means possible to placate a rowdy punter, sometimes sticking a gun in their face would make them see reason and leave quietly.
This introduced me to more professional criminals and I was on my way to becoming a proper villain.

At age 20 I robbed my first post office it was easy and the money was good. I helped gangs on their jobs and made myself a hefty wad of wonga. I forgot that this sort of thing was illegal and did not ever consider being caught.

Two days after my 22nd birthday I was surrounded by the police outside a jewellery shop in Regent street London.

They were not fucking about. They were big blokes with bigger weapons than mine. No competition. My hands went on top of my head before they even asked. Back at the police station they tried to get me to confess to other jobs. I told them to "Fuck off". They beat the shit out of me.

At the Old Bailey I was told I was charged with armed robbery carrying a firearm and assaulting a police dog.

After both sides had given their evidence and the jury had returned a verdict of guilty the judge began his summing up. During the course of this speech he paused looked at me and said; "Why on earth did you not become a train driver?".

I replied "Because I can't drive a train"

"Ten years take him down!"

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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Topics: Trains
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