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  1. Well then this one's for you, then, lads. And this one's for me. Nicking stuff is great: anytime, anyplace, anywhere, pal. A lifelong hobby of mine. Bookstores are about the easiest type of store from which to shoplift. I haven't bought a book for years. You'd have to be daft to waste your money on books when you can pinch them so easily. Here's how. If your pockets are small or you're a bit bervous of stuffing stuff down your trousers or inside your shirt, go in carrying a stack of 2 or 3 books or A4 folders/magazines under your arm and looking like a 'bookish' type. Select the book you want to nick, stand and flick through it while you make sure no c*nt's watching you (* see below, soft lad) and you're not in the direct line of a security camera (up on the ceiling, usually near the wall or in a corner: if one's trained on you, carry the book somewhere else where a camera isn't snooping or a shop assistant loitering), then, once all's clear, swiftly and blithely — naturally — add the new book to the pile under your arm (slip it between two other books), browse a bit more (again to make sure no store detective c*nt or assistant is on your tail) then pretend your keitai's gone off. Get it out of your pocket, flip it open and start speaking loudly into it: stroll out of the shop pointedly while talking on the blower like you own the f*cking place. If any c*nt comes flying out of the shop and stops you (or a security alarm goes off, which it won't), just act stupid or pished, go back into the store and say you had to take that important call and reception was better outside, forgot to go to the cash register (make sure you've enough money to pay for anything you nick in your wallet just in case you get huckled, soft lad: that's commonsense). I picked up the Oxford History of English Literature from a Tokyo bookstore last week, and that's a hefty piece of wood. I nicked the Rough Guide to Thailand, too, a few months ago. Why not? They're asking for it. : If you reside in a country with a mild climate, just get in there with a big coat on, my friend, and you'll be walking out with reading materials for a few months and not a penny poorer. As I say, bookstores are best. Large selections of tempting paperbacks (though not as large a selection as it was before your uncle Jack waltzes out of there with his pockets bulging trivia fans). They've all got security cameras but they're obvious and all pointing away from the decent nicking spots. And the staff are loopy-lou, useless as a chocolate kettle, standing there gassing with one another at the cash tills mostly, the soft c*nts. Game on. *99% of store detectives employed by stores are useless. They are always carrying a carrier bag. They're obvious as snow. If one's on you, ditch your swag and f*ck off. Don't risk it. If you're huckled with expensive goods, they will call the fuzz. Otherwise, you'll get a warning, but you won't be able to nick from that shop again for a long while as the bastards will be all over you like a Star of Light tart on a punter's cock as soon as you set foot inside the store for months after. When I went back to the UK last summer for a fortnight of boozing and blawing, I was amused to note that, in most supermarkets now, batteries and razor blades are no longer displayed on the open shelves. Instead, there's just a wee card thing that you take to the register and the bird exchanges it for the batteries or blades that are now kept in a drawer under the till. The reason for this: ‘if they're on open display, every c*nt just nicks them’, I was told by a bird I asked. They're expensive, and easy to pocket, so no need to pay for them unless you're daft or have more money than sense. Thankfully, a lot of supermarkets haven't cottoned on to that very reaonable line of thinking yet, and I have never, so far as I recall, paid for a razor blade since the mid-1990s. Batteries I pinch from supermarkets too, or the stock cupboard at work. In fact, as must be clear by now, I enjoy nicking stuff. I can sympathise with that bird Winona Ryder. It's a thrill, fills in the dead hours. Things I have shoplifted recently: razor blades, toothpaste, tins of anchovies (f*cking outrageously expensive, and I like an anchovy or two), a pair of nice shoes (just left my old skis on the shelf and walked out with the new ones on :rofl:), a belt and numerous pairs of socks from Uniqlo, a pair of nice expensive cufflinks from a Paul Smith outlet in Tokyo, a swiss army knife, a soccer shirt from a sports shop (just put it on under my shirt in the changing room: it had no electronic tag on it and cost a fortune, so f*ck that ), a leatherbound diary, a silver ring, chewing gum from convenience stores (straight in the pocket with that shit, you just spit it out anyway), designer spectacle frames that I can get lenses put in for tuppence, sunglasses, a leather wallet from some poncey GAP shop, loads of fruit and vegetables from those unmanned roadside stalls in the countryside where they trust you to put money in the wee box. Then there's things I swipe from work: batteries, a coffee maker, blank CDs/video tapes/MDs, arse wipe, pens, trash bags, air freshener things out of the bogs, a nice set of kitchen bowls from the staff canteen, washing up liquid, a DVD-video deck that some c*nt had ordered from Amazon but was waiting boxed-up in the corridor outside his office one weekend, a telephone/fax machine out of the main office, just unplugged the c*nt and took it home after my own blower conked out. I don't think I'm a kleptomaniac because I only nick things when I need them (bog roll, shoes) or, if nicking wasn't an option, if they're things I would definitely buy (the cufflinks, the soccer shirt that I wanted to give to a mate for his birthday). I definitely get a buzz out of it, but I don't pinch things I don't need or wouldn't otherwise buy. I even nicked a bucket from the cleaning closet of a department store bog. That's how I got the bucket that sits under my kitchen sink. Waltzed out of the store — right out of the bog, through the food sections, up the escalator and through the jewellery and perfumes department, past all the puzzled Saturday afternoon shoppers — carrying a f*cking bright blue plastic bucket full of bottles of cleaning fluid and air fresheners and dishcloths. I felt like a f*cking window cleaner. Almost started whistling a tune. Oh, and porn mags (not that you need then nowadays, but I used to...). Actually, I've seldom nicked one of them in Japan. Convenience stores here have loads of security cameras so apart from easily-pocketed items such as chewing gum or fag lighters, I don't chance my arm when I'm in that type of joint. I tend to buy saucy mags only when I'm pished out of my box and rolling home at 3AM feeling rather sorry for myself anyway, which has the ‘two birds with one stone’ effect of simultaneously letting the cute female staff of the conbeni (at least one of whom I will have soberly chatted up and been charming in the presence of in the past) know I'm both a pisshead and a filthy old loser if truth be told. Anyone else got light fingers? It's great fun, like. jack
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