Shoplifters Of The World

Me Aged 10.

One of the many things I liked about the film Belfast when I saw it last week is that you could identify with the characters. Although it was about a family living in Belfast during The Troubles, they were an ordinary working-class family living in an extraordinary situation. A lot of the things they did you could recognise from your own memories. I particularly related to young Buddy who reminded me of myself. I think I even looked a bit like him at that age. One scene in the film especially brought back memories. It was where Buddy, Moira, and another friend go into Mr Singh’s corner shop with the intention of stealing sweets. Buddy steals a bar of Turkish delight, much to Moira’s disgust who wanted a Flake or a Crunchie. Mr Singh manages to catch their friend, and when Buddy gets home that evening, he finds a policeman sitting in the living room talking to Ma. 

I can relate to that incident because that is just the sort of thing me and my friends used to get up to. When I was a kid, I had a short-lived paper round and when I went in the Newsagents shop first thing in the morning, I used to pinch sweets if nobody was looking. In the front of the counter, they had these sweets called Blackjacks and others called Fruit Salads. I think they were eight for a penny. I was always grabbing a handful of them. Nobody ever said anything. I expect half the kids in the neighbourhood were doing the same thing.

This sort of behaviour continued and got worse for a couple of years until I finally got my comeuppance. When I was at Grammar School little gangs of us would go to the shops in town during the lunch break nicking things. We even kept our school uniforms on which was reckless and silly, because if we were caught and had to run for it, the shopkeeper would know which school to go to and track us down. One fateful lunch break I went uptown on my own. I think I was on a mission, maybe one of the other kids had given me an order for something. In one well known department store I pinched a Parker Pen. They were top quality pens, so I was pleased. I would be able to get a few bob for that back at school. 

Next, I went to a stationary shop which had a book department upstairs, and I slipped a Trainspotters book into my pocket. Quite a few kids at school were into trainspotting, so I knew I would be able to fence that as well. I was heading back to school feeling very pleased with my haul when I thought I would pinch some sweets to eat on the way back. I went into Elmo’s Supermarket (It later became Fine Fare) and slid a packet of Opal Fruits up my jacket sleeve. Back on the pavement I was just about to open my sweets when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Oh no, I had been caught!

“I’ll have those sweets”, said the shop manager, “And you come with me”.

He led me back into the shop and up to his office. I know Opal Fruits are made to make your mouth water, but my mouth was suddenly as dry as the Gobi Desert. He made me empty my pockets and incredibly he didn’t realise that the pen and the book were brand new. He must have thought they were school related. He was only interested in seeing if I had stolen anything else from his shop. I don’t think he was very bright.

“Right then, it’s your choice, the police, or your headmaster, what’s it to be?”

Obviously, I took the school option. I went back to school in his car and waited outside the headmaster’s study while the supermarket man spoke to the head. When he departed, I had to go in and face Holy Joe (That’s the nickname he had at school because he was religious. When he retired from teaching, he became a vicar) I quite liked Joe, he was a kind man at heart, but very strict. He gave me a speech about how disappointed he was, and how I had brought shame on the school. Finally, he reached for his cane and gave me six of the best. I was relieved to get it over with. I think it took all afternoon to recover. It wasn’t the physical pain of being beaten. I didn’t care about that. It was the shock and the fear. I lay low for a couple of weeks after that, dreading that my parents got to hear about it, but nothing was ever said, and things returned to normal. My life of crime was over. It wasn’t that I had learned the error of my ways and had realised that stealing was morally wrong. It was because the element of fear had been introduced. It wasn’t fun anymore, so I stopped, and that was the end of that.

PS, I got the title of this story from a song by The Smiths which you can hear below if you want.