When you catch a burglar!

Have you ever caught a burglar, and if you have, what did you do with him? Oops, it’s all equality today, so I must write, ‘What did you do with him – or her? Or them, just in case they are non-binary. I suppose, if you catch such a villain, you probably need to say, “Excuse me Burglar, but before I perform a citizen’s arrest, or march you off to the nick, or before you bash me over the head and escape, I need to ask you a question. What is your gender, please?” Seriously, you could catch a burglar, call the burglar ‘him’, and then find yourself in the dock on what seems to be becoming a far more grievous charge, namely that of using a wrong pronoun. But I digress.

Again I ask, have you ever caught a burglar? Because if you have, you have to decide what to do with them? Of course, it might be that you planned to catch a burglar, and then, if successful, you will have decided in advance just what you will do with them. You might have pre-warned the nick and have them on standby, or you might have decided just what punishment is appropriate. “You have broken into my home, you villain. Now you’re for it. What’s it to be – litter picking in Frettenham for 3 weekends, or a short drive to blue bottle rooms, where they’ll bang you up for a few hours, and give you a nasty reprimand?” The choice is yours, but – what will you do with them?

I caught a burglar by accident. By chance, I suppose. And we were both scared stiff! Both him (or they or it) and me. He/they/it was totally in black – black closely cropped hair, black top, black jeans, black gloves, black trainers – and me? I was as white as a sheet.

I was returning from a convention I had arranged in Norwich. Having rented the Hewitt School for around 5 days, I was in attendance there every day, 8am till 10pm, supervising a team of ushers, caterers, cleaners, etc, looking after the 600 or so attendees. My friend Don Double, an evangelist, held an Easter convention in Norwich annually, and I was co-ordinator. Maybe I could now add ‘burglar catcher’ to my CV, though the apprehension of the villain was not part of the convention. Just related.

“You got me mate”, said the figure in black, crouching and cringing, and trying to hide by squeezing into a gap around 2 inches wide behind a filing cabinet. I was returning from a day at the convention at around 11.30pm, and happened to pass my city practice on Aylsham Road. I was dreading the pile of paperwork that would inevitably be stacked high and waiting for my return, and decided to take a preview. I parked, unlocked the door, walked through the hall and into the office, and….. Help! A burglar!

“You got me mate”, said the figure in black. Adrenaline was flowing fast as my heart went into overdrive. ‘Try and appear brave’, I told myself. ‘And confident’ (by now, sweating). ‘And in charge’ (knees knocking together).

‘What are you doing here?” I bellowed, like a sergeant-major with a headache.

The creature winced, and almost cried in anguish, then whimpered, “You got me, mate. You got me,” and looked such a pathetic loser. “I’ll show you how I got in if you like. Help you keep me mates out,” or something like that. “It’s yer toilet window. Not locked. It’s little, but so am I”. He shuffled through to the toilet, and pointed to the small gap with the fresh night air blowing through.

But what do you do when you catch a villain like that? “Just stretch your hands out for me, please, if you don’t mind, sir or madam, while I tie them together with our office string”. Or, “Please sit quietly while I phone PC Plod and ask him to come and take you away”. Or “Please write out your full name and address on one of my dental record cards, and then leave quietly. Expect the police to contact you in due time”.

I took the soft option. “I’ll let you go with a warning this time, but don’t you ever let me find you here again”. I led him to the front door, opened it and stood back, and truthfully, he ran so fast he could have won us a gold in the Olympics.

A few weeks later, a policeman patient attended for a filling, and I could not resist telling him of my tremendous feat. His response was, “When will he appear in court?”

I felt silly as I said, “I let him go”.

“YOU DID WHAT!” he roared.

Then, seeing the syringe loaded with local anaesthetic in my hand, calmed down and said quietly, “Well, discretion is the better part of valour”, and with resignation, lay back and opened his mouth.

So, when you catch a burglar….

A similar account appears in my book, A DENTIST’S STORY by Barrie Lawrence, available at all good book shops, and online at Waterstones, Amazon, and others.